It's Complicated By Nikki Prince

Funerals always had a way of making a person think about life, and, sitting in the small church pew next to Ashton on one side, then Royce, Emmie, Áine and Darian respectively, Keiko Jarrett thought about her life. She gripped a tissue tightly in her hand as she wiped away tears that fell for her friend. Ashton held a box of tissue out to her and offered her some more and she took it balling it into her free hand.
It's Complicated
It's Complicated By Nikki Prince

HMS Audax By David O'Neil

The oily waters of the dock glinted in a pattern of colours under the working lights swaying in the fresh breeze off the Solent. The ships were a uniform grey, the outline of their upper-works making stark shapes against the lightening sky.
HMS Audax
HMS Audax By David O'Neil

Shock By David O'Neil

When I awoke the room was semi-dark, no blazing lights. No visible attendants.

I thought too soon. The door opened letting in extra light from the corridor. Through my half-closed eyes I noticed the man who entered. Though he wore a white coat he was not a hospital employee. They do not carry a hunting knife in their hand to bring treatment to a patient. A voice came from the corner of the room behind my head. I realised it was the woman who had been there when I first woke.
Shock
Shock By David O'Neil

Glory By David O'Neil

Given that luck plays such a big part in everyone’s life, it could be said that Jonathon was a lucky lad. It could be even if your name was not Jonathon Hope.

The waterfront at Ajaccio was alive with the normal bustling mass of people selling fish, buying fish, and stealing fish. Crew members from the ships alongside mingled with the troops recently landed from the Spanish ships offshore.
Glory
Glory By David O'Neil

The Missing F_ctor By Daniel Lorti

Jim Factor leaned his tall frame back in the leather desk chair, arms behind his head, absentmindedly running his fingers through his thick brown hair. He was in his favorite attire when home; brown cotton slacks, a short-sleeve faded blue shirt with a button-down collar and brown loafers. He straightened up, glanced down at his stomach and winced at the sight of the paunch.
The Missing F_ctor
The Missing F_ctor By Daniel Lorti

Jack Out of the Box By Timothy Vincent

I knew better. Rule number three of the LongPost’s handbook: never deviate from your designated route….

It was just a blip, a flicker of light on the scanner. It could have been one of a hundred things, even a mistake.
Jack Out of the Box
Jack Out of the Box By Timothy Vincent

The Order By Alan Thompson

FLAMES SURGED into the night, spewing sparks like Catherine wheels. Larger bits of burning debris, shot from the inferno, rose into the sky and vanished. Firemen, desperate to stop it from spreading, trained hoses from all sides and from atop the adjacent building. Smoke and the odor of wet char wafted over High Street.
The Order
The Order By Alan Thompson

Sexy Alien Races By Paul Blake Smith


Come on in and take a load off the floor!” That was my first up-close, face-to-face contact with the baseball fan-tastic, enthusiastic, and bombastic Mr. Kenneth K. Yotch. It was an ironic conversation starter; Ken was the very visibly overindulged and obese owner of the Las Vegas 33's, a sad-sack minor league baseball team perpetually hurting for business. Meanwhile I was the skinny young UCLA grad who had answered Ken's online job ad.
Sexy Alien Races
Sexy Alien Races By Paul Blake Smith

The Treasure Keys to Christ's Return By Paul Blake Smith

Right away I noticed a bright light and an angelic voice that drew everyone's immediate attention. It was my pretty red-haired girlfriend, Faye McMullen, age twenty-six, sitting behind a table under a special fluorescent lamp in the church basement. Faye was sporting a nice ocean blue pantsuit – her “Sunday best” as they used to say – and beaming pleasantly before a group of nearly twenty seated small children.
The Treasure Keys to Christ's Return
The Treasure Keys to Christ's Return By Paul Blake Smith

Washed by a Beach By Lisa Reinhard

My life is mostly made up of stuff other people have owned first. We got our sofa at an auction, our refrigerator at a used appliance store, and our dog at the pound. My mom laughs and says, “About the only things that aren’t used around our house is our food, our underwear” — thank goodness — “and each other.” We’re each other’s first daughter and mother. That’s a good enough place to start over, I think, for both of us.
Washed by a Beach
Washed by a Beach By Lisa Reinhard

Living Where athe Rabbits Dance By J.R. Collins

I was born in 1815 to Thompson and Celia Collins whose folks come from the Mother Land, Ireland. I had a brother, Cain, and a sister named Anne. Cain weren’t scared ‘a nothin’ I ever know’d of. He’d proved that over and over; tough like a boar hog. Anne was special. Had a gift for healin’ she’d learned from an old Cherokee medicine woman.
Living Where athe Rabbits Dance
Living Where athe Rabbits Dance By J.R. Collins

Why People Do What They Do By Emilio Iasiello

I listen to the sound the water makes when she dives beneath its surface. She enters like someone well acquainted with the ocean’s movements, intimate with the shifts of tide that ripple over her skin. She swims by the dock, her body the color of a roasted almond in the moonlight. With a long pull of her arm, she beckons me to jump in.
Why People Do What They Do
Why People Do What They Do By Emilio Iasiello

Screaming Angels By Lazlo Ferran

Beside the Bolshiye road Yulia threw down the bicycle and led Yuri into their field.

“Race me to the haystack!” Yuri yelled, his strong legs beginning to pound his feet through the long grass.

“No!â€
Screaming Angels
Screaming Angels By Lazlo Ferran

Don Quixote and Candide Seek Truth, Justice and El Dorado in the Digital Age By Stefan Soto

It is appropriate my first meeting with the renowned Man of La Mancha, a living oddity if ever there was one, took place in the geographical curiosity known as Llívia, a Spanish city surrounded by French soil. A 1659 treaty ceded villages in the region to France—only Llívia was and is a small city, not a village, and so remained a part of Spain.
Don Quixote and Candide Seek Truth, Justice and El Dorado in the Digital Age
Don Quixote and Candide Seek Truth, Justice and El Dorado in the Digital Age By Stefan Soto

Nine Millimeter Solution By Larry Matthews

The boat was open and the rain soaked the passengers who bobbed in the Gulf of Mexico, some of them retching over the side. The man in charge, a scarred, hard Mexican, smacked a teenage girl who was crying and hysterical. “Shut up,” he said. “I will leave you to the sharks.” His English was rough and he spoke in the cadence of his native Spanish. “We will be there soon and you will be somebody else’s problem.”
Nine Millimeter Solution
Nine Millimeter Solution By Larry Matthews

God's Scarlet Fury By Robert E Hirsch

On January 21st in the Year of Our Lord 1088, a woman gave birth to an infant son in the tiny village of Despina, an isolated Greek community tucked east of Armenia, which was itself east of Sultan Kilij Arslan’s Empire of Rüm. Rüm, at this time, comprised much of that portion of Asia Minor now known as Turkey; the area had previously belonged to the Byzantine Empire until the invasions of the Seljuk Turks nearly two decades earlier.
God's Scarlet Fury
God's Scarlet Fury By Robert E Hirsch

Psalms for the Single Mom By Lisa Reinhard

This is the story

of a journey I embarked on

with God and with my three sons:

Sean, Neil, and Jeff.
 Psalms for the Single Mom
 Psalms for the Single Mom By Lisa Reinhard

Uncommon Bond By John House

Deep underground in a tunnel complex, soil rained from the earthen roof in cadence with exploding ordnance above. A lantern suspended from a bamboo pole swayed like the arms of a conductor directing the booming acoustics. A yellow flame in the artificial light bounced free of the wick before recapturing its home. The clayish floor trembled, sending vibrations into the bloody, near-naked bodies sprawled on thin mats of thatch.
Uncommon Bond
Uncommon Bond By John House

The Deuce By Symm Hawes McCord



After his first day as greeter at the local Bayville, Alabama Walmart, Harve Donovan drove home to his wife, Lucy. “Miss Lucy, I think I’ll hit the bed early tonight.”

“Is that new job too much for you, Harve,” she teased.
The Deuce
The Deuce By Symm Hawes McCord

Private Conclusions By Brian Charleton

The glass shattered into millions of jagged fragments as a bevy load of bullets zinged, zipped and life-shattered their way regardless of the courage or cowardice of the occupants of the hot bar where Noddy Norman – last survivor of the Nelligan gang – was entertaining. The crowd was decent, larger than he ever got in Cork, at least they were until the bullets induced departure from the pub.
Private Conclusions
Private Conclusions By Brian Charleton

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