Short stories, offering glimpses into different realities.

Better than Stealing

A full trashcan sat in the dark just outside my alternate-dimension self's office. Housekeeping came by every morning, so obviously this lucky “me” was still employed here, working during the daylight hours. I was the unlucky me who was stuck prowling dark hallways at 2 am on a Tuesday...

2021-10-15T18:26:09-05:00September 30th, 2021|Fiction, Issue #10, Stories|5 Comments

Play It

Louis walks the barren city street, a near-freezing wind blowing. He looks up at the sky, so late afternoon blue he has to squint, and even then the beauty hurts. He glances sideways and checks the number above the door of an abandoned store. Six-six-nine. Four more blocks to go.

2021-10-15T18:31:15-05:00September 30th, 2021|Fiction, Issue #10, Stories|0 Comments

The Magnificent Threshold

I climb toward the asymptote at the top of the universe, leaving dead centuries in my wake, gaining mass. Clovis says this is like growing in spirit as one approaches God. He says I will experience God soon, but right now I feel alone and terrified...

2021-10-15T18:32:20-05:00September 30th, 2021|Fiction, Issue #10, Stories|0 Comments

Love is a Hack

Day 1: I tell her about my ship, about what it feels like to cut through spacetime with a bridge drive instead of taking a public transfer station. It's a good play, works great on pretty women in expensive, fashionable clothes that lead expensive, fashionable lives they wish they could escape for the night. She averts her eyes. “Does your ship have TruAI?” she asks.

2021-10-15T18:28:31-05:00September 30th, 2021|Fiction, Issue #10, Stories|0 Comments

The Oz Casino

The alley, you would have sworn, is empty. Blank concrete walls and a narrow, colorless door, likely out of use for years. You’re turning your head to say it’s a bust when the light blazes into existence, catching the corner of your eye, flooding the door and the whole lane with blood-red light: a bent-neon sign and the words THE OZ CASINO.

2020-12-29T15:32:58-05:00December 20th, 2020|Fiction, Issue #9, Stories|0 Comments

After He’s Gone

Down at the town hall, everybody decided I should be the one to smash up the Invader’s statue. Folks in town call me Joe-Fix-It. I’m usually around doing odd jobs, helping mend a fence or changing a tire. And I’ve always been handy with a sledgehammer. No sweat, I told them.

2020-12-29T15:35:35-05:00December 20th, 2020|Fiction, Issue #9, Stories|0 Comments