editorial by Camille Gooderham Campbell From the Editors As we move from pumpkins to poppies, we’ve got moving on our minds. Yes, it’s time for Every Day Fiction to change web hosts once again. We’ve been talking about this with… Continue Reading
A firm rap on the door, the dog barks but he’s locked up in the bedroom so he won’t frighten the spooks and goblins; irony. I struggle around the couch to keep up with Maggie and her big bowl of… Continue Reading
Luke sorts the Halloween candy I bought into piles, a mountain range stretching across my kitchen table. He smirks. “You need more candy, Mrs. C.” I sweep the piles into my big plastic bowl. “Halloween candy’s like a treasure hunt.… Continue Reading
Shimmering like a mirage, a man strode down the backwoods highway towards Tim. The stranger was dressed in black, not comfortable attire for August in North Carolina. Tim slouched against his mud-splattered pickup as cars whizzed by. His brother had… Continue Reading
Once there was a witch who lived in a small house on a wide prairie and executed her natural apportionment of mischief far from home. After a long day of hellfire and curses, she appreciated the enduring peace of the… Continue Reading
Listen to “The Mixture” by K.C. Ball, read by Folly Blaine: [display_podcast] K.C. Ball lives in Seattle, Washington. Her short stories have appeared here at Every Day Fiction, as well as various online and print publications, including Analog, Lightspeed, Beneath… Continue Reading
Lynn and I decided to spend Halloween at her family’s cabin in the Sierras. It was located in a little hamlet on the Yuba River, and like many of these old settlements, had once been a mining town. Late October… Continue Reading
The breeze ruffled my hair like the teasing fingers of a seductress as the ship cut the smooth waters of the Atlantic. Even at 3 a.m., the air felt warm. “Oh Tom,” said my wife Helen, already at the boat… Continue Reading
Even when it’s sunny in Brooklyn, there’s a leaden feeling to the light, particularly in the historic district, where we live. The houses are uniformly three stories high, carved in the way, nowadays, only tombstones are. In the daytime, when… Continue Reading
Commander James Prieto woke once every fourteen months, and had done so for five hundred years. He would check that the Hidden Greatness was on-course, and that its 100,000 souls were safe in cryogenic suspension. Then he would go back… Continue Reading