Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
For Real--The Interview
Resume’ in hand, I walked into the building fifteen minutes ahead of my interview time. I noticed the foyer is empty. It is a grand space with a coffee stand located on the left and a reception counter on the right. An enormous fireplace from the ground floor to the top of the second floor towered over me. A railing above revealed a lounge on the second floor. No one is around. No one is behind the counter either. I see a sign in book. It has large shaky signatures. I look to the top to see this is for “The Residents”. To think, I had almost signed in the wrong book. Glad no one was looking. I gazed around and found a closed book to the far right lying flat on top of the gleaming black marble. I almost missed it because the book was also black. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it was labeled “Visitors”. I opened the book, and with pen in hand, found the last page so that I could sign in. There were no available slots left to sign in. I felt the odd presence of eyes. I felt as though someone was watching me. I looked around, still no sign of a human in sight. I couldn’t shake that feeling. Perplexed, I decided to add a line to the bottom of the page and neatly followed the pattern of the line above to sign in. I closed the book and placed the pen down. I saw a chair by a fireplace in the center of the grand foyer. That seemed like a good place to sit while I waited the next 12 minutes. It would certainly be within earshot. So, I sat down. I placed the resume’ in my lap and neatly folded my hands together. I felt a little conspicuous. I shifted in my seat to make sure I had good posture and crossed my ankles, slightly adjusting both knees to the left and ankles to the right. I could hear and see no one. Yet, I had the unmistakable sense of someone nearby. I looked around. I sniffed the air. I listened so that I could hear a pin drop. Nothing. I gazed at my arms extending beyond the suit sleeves. The hairs stood up. It wasn’t particularly cold in the room, but it was clear that my senses were on overdrive. Time ticked on, slowly, ever so slowly. Agonizing—time ticked on.
By Mary Catherine Watsonabout 5 hours ago in Fiction
Anthony
Sun split the cloudless sky like the eye of a great giant, peering down on Lena as she made her way, slowly but surely, from the car to the front door. The cute sandstone cottage glowed in the late spring afternoon, the flowers were riotous, and the air had that soft edge that said warmer days were coming, but it felt like a picture. This day could not exist, not like this. Not here.
By S. A. Crawfordabout 5 hours ago in Fiction
Hoodoo You Think You Are?
Victor Janssen was a man to be reckoned with. He was tall and commanding in his presentation. He was wealthy. He was a natural leader, the head of a company that employed so many employees he wouldn’t even recognize one were he to bump into any of them. He was childless and single, devoting all of his time to his vocation.
By Gerard DiLeoabout 5 hours ago in Fiction
Silken Chains
Silhouettes of the female form were given flesh and bone. Silken skin glistened under the spotlight. Dry ice rose around our Icons as they danced atop their podiums in the Square. Heralded for their beauty, their movements were slight, powerful, and sensual.
By Paul Stewartabout 5 hours ago in Fiction
Humans Disrespect the Creator
May was a devoted mother, a community advocate, and someone who held her faith close to her heart. One crisp autumn evening, May was participating in another weekly church meeting with some of her friends and other members. Her friends were Elena, a feminist activist, Marcus, a retired teacher, and young Lila, a college student questioning the world around her.
By Jyoti DiClementeabout 6 hours ago in Fiction
