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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

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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

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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

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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.

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Issue 18

Phew! The release of this issue was delayed a bit. But it’s out! We had a lot of fun putting it all together and we hope that you have fun reading. Please consider purchasing the issue here. All proceeds will go towards running the site and generating a fund for paying authors.  

Issue 17

You know what this means, right? 17 months and running! We couldn’t be any more happy and honored. Contributors, thanks for making this possible. Readers, thanks for the effort you wonderful people put in. We hope you enjoy this collection of stories.  

Djinn Mustard

Zeinab’s mother covered her daughter’s eyes through most of Aladdin. She hated the eponym’s mystical companion, the shape-shifter with his feet curled like devil horns. “Djinns!” She would exclaim, “Ghouls of smokeless fire!” Zeinab learned to similarly fear these apparitions that slunk invisibly between worlds. She dreaded the thought of a spectral spectator who could

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