The Endless Summer

I’m not a good surfer. In my defence, albeit I’ve surfed sporadically every time I was on holiday in a warm country since 7 years ago, it’s only this summer that the surfing bug got into me. This July. Something clicked. I was out bringing my son to the ocean – he’s fifteen now, and […]

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Sympathy for the Devil?, by Ryan Clark

A Belated Critique of “Lucifer,” the Show That Won’t Die  Lucifer is not for everyone.  It’s fraught with clichés, lacks the panache of more refined cop dramas, and is dreadfully – or delightfully – “judgy” towards the more sanctimonious viewers.  It’s also old news at this point, having just been rescued by Netflix for a […]

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Short fiction by Tim Hanson

When You Were Young, by Tim Hanson

            Night came as it always did, with the stench of bad breath and cheap cologne.             Sometimes, they’d delicately whisper her name, giving each syllable a reverent power; more often, their desires grew violent, and they’d leave bruises around her throat. No matter their […]

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Short story with a dark edge by Sal DiFalco

Poisoning Felix, by Salvatore DiFalco

Someone had poisoned Felix Garibaldi’s toothpaste! The toothbrush fell from his hand as this horrible possibility dawned on him. He held his head under the tap and rinsed his throbbing tongue and gums. Compounding the pain and concern, some of the poisonous toothpaste had spattered into his right eye which, in reaction, had swollen shut. […]

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Sore point, by Dasha Zagurskaya

She moved to the big city for college with no expectations, which turned out to be a good thing, for in the end of the day she didn’t have to let go of them in addition to exorbitant sums of money spent on menthol cigarettes. New York geared an inscrutable mechanism inside her. Her sleep […]

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We be queens, by Lee Ellis

kids play in the chain link parking lot, their voices vibrating against car alarms they found a syringe where double dutch girls turn double orange ‘til the bell rings like power lines Haloed housing projects on the 15th we eat like kings, we do not know the ignorance of our own poverty

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The Corpse House, by Tyrel Kessinger

Along with the freelance handyman jobs here and there, Terry always picked up the seasonal hours at The Corpse House. Extra money was extra money, he told people, though he did it simply for the art of it; his love for scaring the shit out of people. He practiced moves in the mirror in the […]

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