Nick Romeo

Initiated A beautiful woman greets me with her hand open and extended, “Hello my name is Whun de Menshunelle. You can follow me.” I accept the handshake then proceed to follow her as suggested. From viewing straight on, she looks amazing, but as the angle changes I can barely see her. She appears as a vertical line – a sharp edge cutting through space. She quivers and bends with each step. “Have a seat.” I sit in her office of leopard print and pink velvet. Her walls are decorated with various pictures. One photo shows her executing a keg stand … Continue reading Nick Romeo

Anne Walsh Donnelly

RARE RIB-EYE   If I hadn’t turned the key in the ignition like you ordered me to, before we married I wouldn’t be where I am now and you wouldn’t be where you are either. I’d never have learned to drive never have sat outside the bank, engine running, waiting   for you to finish work. I’d never have seen you get into her yellow Toyota Yaris. I’d have been at home, reading your text, have to stay late don’t wait up, while watching Corrie.   I’d never have seen her yellow shoe box bounce up and down in the … Continue reading Anne Walsh Donnelly

Jennifer Fytelson O’Brien

Tased and Amused                “I swear honey, if I had known you existed, I would have raised you myself.”                 I seemed to be getting a lot of sentiments like that since I arrived here. Here being the back woods of Virginia.  It all seemed just a little too weird for me. I think Uncle Ray could see the uneasiness in my face because he invited me out to his favorite hangout spot- the garage! As we exited the kitchen and into the man cave, the atmosphere changed! The garage was decorated with walls of tools and Benjamin Moore paint … Continue reading Jennifer Fytelson O’Brien

Polly Richardson – fiction

Fredrick was RIP 1800    Creak the floors drenched in screams, groaning cracks. What secrets do you weep?  He hunched, eyeing threads. Perfection, despite squalor. His sanctuary, near two years since his death.  Wicks reluctantly flicked light, spluttered glow. He remembers this one’s squeals. Almost climaxed, as he recalled the ether wafting, tangoing its way up her flared nostrils. Nasal hair recoiled, defenceless. Her eyes screeched till bulge. Burst vessels branched out, spread like skin-forest. He strokes. Inhaled that image deeply so it rests on inner fibres for nights ingestion. Soft flesh, rippling, his vice-like grip. The old machine quivered protest … Continue reading Polly Richardson – fiction