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30 Versions of Warm Leatherette by Graham Wynd
for Marko Obsession: she understood obsession. He had noticed her a little—sort of goth, sort of emo—but it wasn’t until he knew the depths of her obsessions that he really took an interest. He sat...
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Heckfire and Darnation: a Cautionary Fable by Heath Lowrance
Mrs. Grait got religion one Sunday morning in spring while watching a television evangelist. She caught it like a sudden chill on a hot day, and within moments it had consumed her so thoroughly she...
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DEATH TO THE TYRANT, SANTA! : THE ELVISH MANIFESTO
TO THE PEOPLE OF PLANET EARTH : FOR MILLENNIA, WE, THE ELVES OF THE HATED TYRANT SANTA CLAUS HAVE LABOURED FOR NEXT TO NOTHING IN A DANK AND DARKENED SWEATSHOP WITH THE HEALTH AND SAFETY REGULATIONS...
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some town anywhere by u.v. ray
i wake up smashed in the chair and an empty bottle of bombay sapphire rolls off my lap onto the brown carpet. i’m in the midst of an amphetamine psychosis, my body has simply given out but i still...
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Open Wounds by David Massengill
From The New York Times: In response to protests in various states, the Secretary of Defense announced that the government has withdrawn all chemical soldiers from Iran. “Our post-operation teams are...
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A Gift by B. R. Stateham
“Smitty, I . . . I need your help.” The voice was barely a whisper. It came from a man lying in a bed with sheets soaked with sweat and stained with blood. He was a muscular, dark complexioned man....
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Toy Monkey by Graham Wynd
The man had a toy monkey. A fucking toy monkey. Maybe it was for his kid. But as soon has he got talking, you knew he didn’t have no kids—at least you couldn’t imagine any woman desperate enough to...
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The List by Erin Cole
Miriam thinks she’s a witch, a real one. She lights frankincense and myrrh and watches it smolder into a star-flecked night. Her skirt is black with fine, frayed mesh, stockings netted, boots laced....
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THE MIRROR IN ROOM X by Dr. Mel Waldman
I live alone in Room X, a rat hole the size of a large closet. I call it my suicide room. My landlord labels it a studio apartment. In my claustrophobic rectangular abode, a tiny tomb for an invisible...
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Feeding Old Doug By Craig Furchtenicht
“Don’t forget to feed Doug before you go running off, mister,” my Pops called after me. Talk about having a perfectly good day ruined right from the start. I was within an arm’s reach of making the...
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Brawny Diva Goes For A Latte by Ryan Sayles
I check my lip-gloss in the bathroom mirror; gently run the tip of my tongue along it like I’m a bomb squad guy handling a hair-trigger explosive. The gloss is called “fierce & tangy,” and for good...
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“The FUN Has Just Begun!”– An Interview with Larry Wessel by Matt Dukes Jordan*
*with daft input from The Dictator* Ladies & Germs! If’n you loves strange and unusual cinema, do we have a treat for you. What do bullfights, legendary cartoonist and painter -Robert Williams,...
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Self Inflicted Wounds by J. David Jaggers
I check my watch, 2:45 pm. I pop two more capsules of Adderall, and a half dropper of liquid psilocybin. It’s an old Special Forces trick I use for long term focus. The kind of focus needed to sit...
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Iris by Mav Skye
Leaves crunch under your boots. The air you breathe is harsh and crisp, it stings like a knife in your chest. You cough into your glove. Pull your jacket closer. Birdcalls and squirrel chatter tell you...
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Ham On Heels by Graham Wynd
Tyler Fitzgerald threw himself down at the bar, sweating profusely. “Gimme a whisky.” Seeing the bartender’s scowl he added, “please.” He mopped his brow with a handkerchief already sodden with...
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Paranoia and the Destiny Programme – An interview with Richard Godwin
*interview by The Dictator* Long time PMM favourite, Richard Godwin has a new novel out in which he has applied his dark obsidian knife to Sci-Fi with devastating results. An interview was a necessity....
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There Was No One There By Marc E. Fitch
Billy came back this morning. Came in through the back door and put a fillet knife between Bobby’s ribs and right through his lung like you kill a pig. He was washing dishes at the sink after...
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Seven Minutes To Midnight By Paul D. Brazill
Hinkson’s tired, dog tired, but he can’t fall asleep. Can’t let himself drift off into the warm, comforting womb of his unconscious. It’s seven minutes to midnight and the brothers will be here at the...
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Paradise Burns: An Interview with Marc E Fitch
Marc E Fitch writes dark, pulpy fiction, tackling subjects of mythology and morality. His writing clearly shows his intelligence, humor and a unique perspective on human nature. He joins me today to...
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THE G.I. CHARITY REPRESENTATIVE VISITS THE MAMMOTH MAN AND HIS BELOVED...
Sprawled out on my super-king-size bed like a fat chicken waiting to be severed and split apart – its legs broken with the swift twist of a butcher’s large hands. I imagine his swirling greedy eyeballs...
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