MARTYR • by David E. Oprava
Perplexed, yet oddly aroused by the seminal t-shirt in the grungy shop, I stood staring at “Smoking for Jesus.” I had to buy it. Once I got home, tried it on over the beer gut and the moderate moobs, I… Continue Reading
Perplexed, yet oddly aroused by the seminal t-shirt in the grungy shop, I stood staring at “Smoking for Jesus.” I had to buy it. Once I got home, tried it on over the beer gut and the moderate moobs, I… Continue Reading
From the Editors Welcome to another month of Every Day Fiction. March’s issue is shaping up to be one of our strongest ever. We have stories from writers who are new to EDF, like K. Bond and Kathleen Powers-Vermaelen, and… Continue Reading
Fog creeps over the railing from the river below, up my legs and through the gaps in my jacket. Shivering, I scurry across the bridge, toking a joint, wearing my bass guitar like an anchor. I’ve heard about this pea-soup… Continue Reading
Once there was a storyteller who came every day like the ice cream man. He pedaled a little cart with tinkling bells and kids would come leaping out of their houses and crowd around and he would tell them stories.… Continue Reading
I’d just returned from the Himalayas and was brewing tea. The kettle whistled. The doorbell rang. I poured water into my mug, on top of a bag of Hairy Guy in the Tea Bush tea. The bell rang again. I… Continue Reading
She hated it when he did that. It was a put-down, but a subtle one, so that she couldn’t call him on it without sounding shrill and petty. But there was no chance he didn’t know what he was doing… Continue Reading
“Look at that crowd waiting on the corner,” Bobby said, leaning against the sill of the one and only window in our cramped, messy office. “What is it?” I asked, not looking up from my PC monitor. “A really odd… Continue Reading
It was a damn mess, really, with no one but himself to blame. But he’d done what he’d done and there was no erasing it. He dreaded the coming clean, had thought it over in his head for weeks. No,… Continue Reading
It was getting cold outside, cold and windy; the sort of night that encouraged very few people to go out near the water. Figuring that she had seen the last customer of the day, Carina went into the back room… Continue Reading
The thumping bass jarred me out of a deep, post-coital sleep. Squinting at the alarm clock, I saw it glow 2:45 AM. I clicked on the lamp and Cindy turned towards me. “It’s those damn kids,” I said. I expected… Continue Reading