Short Story
Mistress of the House of Books. V+ Fiction Award Winner.
On the east side of the John Adams Building, facing Third Street, was an entrance. It used to feature three pairs of bronze doors. Sculpted upon these doors were the names and standing forms of heroes and gods. The same six figures for the pairs on either side, with a different half-dozen for the middle pair. Twelve unique figures in all. Hope, perhaps, in an astrological nod?
By Matthew Daniels5 years ago in Fiction
Planning Vengeance excerpt
This is an excerpt from my first novel, Planning Vengeance, published in November, 2019. Feel free to check out my Amazon Author's Page for this and my other titles. If you like this, I'd love for you to check out my Vocal Profile as well.
By L. Lane Bailey5 years ago in Fiction
We Hope to See You Soon
“Hello, Dear. What treasures did you find this time?” Naomi asked as Josef, her husband of 62 years, tottered through the front door struggling with a large, wrapped parcel. Although glad he had a hobby, she always was relieved to see him return safely.
By Curt Newell5 years ago in Fiction
Dormancy
Ice clinked the side of the glass. A brief singe tickled her throat before the refreshing gin bathed her tongue. She sighed. A strong cocktail for a sobering task. She sat on the bare hardwood floor in her apartment, surveying the room stuffed with forgotten parts of her life.
By Meredith Bell5 years ago in Fiction
Buying the Fairyman
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. A man traipsed his way through the brush beneath mauves, magentas, azures, and the ominous failing of the light. Stopping to check his copies of road maps and written directions with a flashlight, he mumbled through his beard: “What’s so bad about white picket fences…?” One side of it was caked in mud from a fall, the other still gleaming with cheap beard oil.
By Matthew Daniels5 years ago in Fiction
Deposits
The first week of chemo, Peter sits by you and rambles about everything and nothing for the sake of distraction. You’ve just learned about the money dumped into your bank account — twenty-thousand pounds that isn’t yours. It’s been there for two weeks, which shows how often you bother to check. The bank app labels it a deposit, but it’s a mistake.
By Owen Schaefer5 years ago in Fiction
The Infinite Vastness
Esteban looks at me and claps his little notebook shut with one hand. He walks over to the garage door and leans forward until his head hits the wall with a faint knock. He’s still standing there with his forehead pressed into the plaster when he begins:
By mark wilkes5 years ago in Fiction
The Perfect Dress
The shop had been there as long as Lily could remember. She thought back to when she was seven years old and her sister took her there for the first time. It was enormous, with frosted glass windows and pointy spires on the roof, like miniature church steeples. She had paid particularly great attention to the door. It was a large wooden door with an oval-shaped, stained-glass picture of a pink and red rose. The glass met the door in perfectly smooth connection. The handle curved outward and then down, like a swan, craning its neck to eat the last crumb of bread thrown at its feet. A small lever above the handle would release the lock and it clicked when you held it down with your thumb. The door made an eerie creaking sound when it opened, almost like the doors in the scary movies, but this door wasn’t scary.
By Amos Glade5 years ago in Fiction
