The brambles? Kept pigs out of the gardens. The story? Got my parents out of a jam. “My gosh,” I said to my aunt, “haven’t they bollocksed it up now!” She gave that ginger-and-lemon laugh of hers. “They can lie… Continue Reading
Red patent leather winks out from the central window of the store. On the left uniformed dummy-girls wear pleated gymslips, bound with fixed girdles of red or green or blue. One is uncomfortably bumfled up in an unseasonable Burberry. On… Continue Reading
Anyone who tells you blood tastes delicious is a liar. In fact, I can almost guarantee that they are telling you that to sound tough. The truth isn’t nearly as glamorous. Blood tastes like dirt and metal. I hate it,… Continue Reading
The bite didn’t look bad. Clarissa touched the skin around the wound — warm, swollen, coagulated blood gathering at the outer edges. She rubbed her fingers against her jeans, fresh blood atop older stains from spilled coffee and dirt from… Continue Reading
Angela sat across from him, beautiful in her weird, skinny, features-all-too-long way. Comedian beautiful. He thought about her hips and spun his coffee cup in a little ring of its own guts. She hadn’t touched her plate of breakfast tacos.… Continue Reading
Listen to “The Old Man and the Safe” by Peter Wood, read by Folly Blaine: [display_podcast] Peter Wood is an attorney in Raleigh, North Carolina. He has had stories published in Ray Gun Revival, Bull Spec, Stupefying Stories and Every… Continue Reading
I found Dad at the train yard when I arrived for work. Dressed in overalls and a flannel shirt, he smelled of sulfur and cigarette ash. “Case,” he said, giving me a nod as if we were old chums. “Dad.” … Continue Reading
“Will you marry me?” Ken whispered, his breath warm against my forehead. “All aboard!” Even if I’d had an answer, I couldn’t give it as we boarded the train. I followed Ken through two train cars until he found our… Continue Reading
“You’re a fraud. Nothing but…” Janet struggled with a list of expletives, anger demanding she say them, years of self-discipline denying her the pleasure. “…a fraud,” she finished. Something inside her sighed; something inside her applauded — but without conviction.… Continue Reading
She smelled pretty. Mike lifted the pink motorbike jacket to his face and breathed in the floral perfume. A single cotton-candy-coloured hair slipped from the collar and floated to the office floor. The air thickened with more of the jacket’s… Continue Reading