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The Matador by Catfish McDaris
Pancho killed the bulls with flair. Spaniard met him in Mexico City, but he was about to perform in Guadalajara. Pancho gave him directions, so Spaniard bought a ticket. Spaniard went to the matador’s...
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TATTOOED EYEBROWS by Richard Godwin.
One of the best pieces of advice that anyone gave me at that time, came from a Moldovan hooker. * London, the underbelly of the city like every metropolitan moral sewer across the over-populated...
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I FEAR THE DAWN by Dr. Mel Waldman
I fear the dawn. The night and its soothing darkness are my cocoon. They protect me from an unknown danger. But when the crepuscular insects and I rise with the savage light of dawn, my fragile heart...
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Winter X Shotgun by BAM
I was cold to the bone from the winter chill, and then there was that woman . . . her shotgun pointed at me throughout the drive. How she could travel along the snowy road just fine and hold her double...
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Paranoid by Sonia Kilvington
They would lay in wait outside of the shops at the mall in the afternoons. I would catch threatening glimpses of their vivid orange robes as they lingered in shady doorways, waiting for an opportunity...
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A Mister and his Destiny by Bobby D. Lux
I parked my car three blocks away on Fern under a street light. My OCD kicked in and I rechecked the glove box and under the center armrest. Both were still empty because I cleared them out two hours...
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Hot Air by William E. Wallace
Nicky Dolman came out of the men’s room at the Blue Door Lounge wiping his hands on his pant legs. “Motherfuckers,” he muttered as he slid into the booth and took a swig of beer. Eli Jones, the boss of...
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Blizzard of Ought-not by Guinotte Wise
This is conjecture, but The crane was there, of that I’m sure. The sand hills. Nebraska. His feathers ruffled as he was facing south and the northwest wind was a little stiffer than yesterday, and it...
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The Perfect Clue by Cecelia Chapman
The Perfect Clue was influenced by the films Les Vampires and Irma Vep, the bandolera La Carambada (http://unlikelystories.org/content/bandit-queen), and other unapologetic female bandits, and ‘The...
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THE CRIMSON ROOM AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS By Dr. Mel Waldman
After dark, I’ll return to the crimson room at the top of the stairs, my tiny home in the seedy part of town, where the junkies and alkies O.D. on a cornucopia of poisons and feast on freaky visions....
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Requiem by Jen Hughes
Christopher Matthews was a dedicated teacher who touched the lives of many children throughout his thirty-five years teaching music. Thoughts are with his family and friends at a small funeral service...
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Chelsea Girls by Paul D. Brazill
Chloe left the money and took the guns. She couldn’t carry everything and she knew that cash would be a hell of a lot easier to come by than a couple of AK47s that was for sure. ‘Fuck you very much,’...
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ALCATRAZ FETISH by Richard Godwin
It was an ugly petit bourgeois house in a suburb of Paris, noteworthy only for its proximity to the dump where Marie Antoinette assumed unreal dignities. Bruno Quelcon was the second son of a tedious...
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The Abyss by Lisa Ciarfella
Father Trevor rolled the rosary beads round in his hand for the twentieth time in the last twelve minutes. He knew exactly how long it had been, since the hands on the old wooden clock hanging just...
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Yesterday’s Wine by Paul D. Brazill
Pauline Williams really hadn’t wanted to talk to her brother. Not for a while, anyway. She’d been giving him the cold shoulder recently. She’d had more than enough of Billy’s shenanigans over the...
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“A seriously dark place”– PMM Interview with Ryan Bracha
Ryan Bracha is a writer known for his transgressive and darkly humourous pieces, where people do nasty things to nasty people. His latest work, Phoebe Jeebies And The Man Who Annoyed Everybody, is a...
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Fish Hook by Hector Duarte, Jr.
My school is small, so everyone knew and wouldn’t shut the fuck up for the longest weeks until I had to practically beg them to stop talking about my dead sister. You ever had to convince someone you...
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Moonlight Gets Served By Vincent Zandri
1. I’m sitting at my desk having a drink and cleaning my gun in the second floor office loft when I hear the footsteps running, not walking, up the wood stairs. “Heels,” I tell myself. “Most definitely...
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Bloody Collage by Graham Wynd
Jeanne Duval tried to stop herself from scratching her arm, a thing she did compulsively whenever she was nervous and there was no way to pace. Sometimes she scratched so much she drew blood, which at...
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Troubled Waters by Tess Makovesky
I peer round the side of the wheelie bin. Blue lights flash ominously in the distance. We’ve run, but not far enough. “Nope. Fuzz are still hanging around.” “Christ. Could be here for hours. And it...
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