Blog

Dichotomy

‘Consider the imbalance between a fox and the English hunters who chase it. The one weighs a few kilos and the other has the combined weight of horses, men, and dogs!  You would never think this is a worthy contest, with the fox having any chance to escape. ‘But the fox has one thing going

Read More

Issue 20

Hi there! *waves* This is dedicated to our readers who have done a wonderful job and without whose help, we wouldn’t have been able to keep going. Have a fun read! Cover illustrated by Luke Spooner.

Parting

 We were sitting at the edge of the pool—shin-deep in crisp, moonlit water—when he reached his arm around me and said, “I’m going to hell.” “What do you mean?” I asked.  “Or to someplace, I’m not certain.” I sat up to look at his face, which was starting to blur.  “I don’t understand,” I said, and then he

Read More

The Chariot

Fire and ice roar through my veins. I am a god. I ride upon the chariot of death. On each fist, I wear a black gauntlet of doom, and my face is hidden beneath the mask of fury. Far below me, little creatures flee in fear. Once proud emerald towers fall before my power. A

Read More

Falling

Marcel wrapped his arms over his chest, not making any move to wipe away the tears. He shouldn’t have left. He knew it the second he closed the door to his apartment that he’d made a mistake. But it wasn’t something he could change now. Four minutes. That’s how much time he had until the

Read More

Issue 19

And with this, we close another year. It has been a roller coaster ride and to see us still going strong, fills us with nothing but pride and happiness. We couldn’t have done this without the amazing stories we’ve collected. Thank you and have a good read. If you liked the issue, consider purchasing it

Read More

Abigail

She strokes the talisman beneath her pillow. Outside, the wind howls and thunder rumbles. “Let tonight be different,” she prays. She kisses the rosary and sets it on the nightstand, as she climbs onto the musty, overstuffed mattress. Branches fling themselves against the battered house like pick-up sticks and rain pelts the bolted windows, as she clutches the covers.

Read More