“Police Ko” by Bradford Middleton
Jack had been living the good life for a long while but still hadn’t made it out of the day to day dealings his position demanded of him . . .
Category: Original Fiction
“1998 Niagara” by Pat Mooney Sweet
On Columbus Day weekend my brother and I had gone to a mass dedicated to our father who’d died of a heart attack in the back room of 1998 Niagara Street . . .
“Joint Readiness” by Claire H Brukman
Tal Afar Town is what they call us, but we’re not the real deal. The casting agency had to open it up to “actors of Middle Eastern or Mediterranean descent in good standing with the Union.” Who cares if we’ve got a few Armenians, and even a Steinberg from Scarsdale . . .
“The Guns of Brixham” by Tom Leins
The skinhead wipes the rain out of his eyes and cackles. “I’m glad I’m not the poor bastard that has to try and identify your body.” His pump-action shotgun is wedged against my throat. He is going to make one hell of a mess . . .
“Thanksgiving Mom” by Colin Cohen
It suddenly occurred to Rudi that not only was she alone in a strange and empty city, but it was Thanksgiving . . .
“The Long Shadow of Sing Sing” by Michael Boatman
Once, I lived in Tarrytown, in a six bedroom Tudor set high in the hills. My living room windows looked out across the Hudson to the green expanse of Rockland County on its far side. This was back when I was married; before Floyd Flake bit off my left ear and won the World Heavyweight title by a “knockout.” . . .
“Parenting Math” by Molly Pascal
I thought taking care of one baby was hard, until I had two . . .
“In the Furnace” by Joe Kraus
You have to go down a lot of steps to get to what’s left of the furnaces, so not many people come here. That’s why I use this place, but it got me thinking all the same. This was where it started, where – like the historical marker says – we made the steel that won the Civil War. Now it’s four ruined rock walls. This used to be the heart of the city, or maybe the lungs for the great bellows it had. Now it’s broken and useless. The city’s own black lung . . .