I wondered if I was the first monk to sneak out to strip clubs. I mean, no one was perfect. Every monk had their thing. Harry always took two desserts instead of one. Miles slept through his pancake shift on the weekend. Phil took like eight paper towels when he dried his hands in the bathroom. But the first monk to sneak off to strip clubs?… more
Tag Archives: flash fiction
Trauma Bonds
FICTION by Sara NovicMy family had been killed; yours had lived. But there was pressure in that, that grateful weight.… more
Two Flash Fictions
FICTION by Steve GergleyThe CEO of our company is a serial killer. All my coworkers adore him.… more
Wilson Koewing
BULL Interview by The DrevlowI didn’t sit down with the intention of writing a dark book. My goal with this book was pretty simple, stark realism. These are the people that I know and that I meet, and these are the problems that I see or that I hear about or that I’ve had or that I’ve witnessed. And while yeah, it’s fucking dark, I feel like life is pretty dark.… more
Both Nasty and Biblical
FICTION by Jared PovandaIt was what they had both wanted. Pulsing club music. Alan’s hands on the man’s hips. A bright smile with a wicked hook. When they kissed, it had been more like crashing. Collision.… more
THE HAT BOX
FICTION by Samuel J AdamsThe warden stood at the barbed guardrails of the south tower, looked upon the yard, and removed his cap. The December air chilled his nose, pinched his cheeks, and iced along his thinning scalp. And yet even as he shivered, he knew it was insufficient: this cold was not enough to make the prisoners wear the hats.… more
Young God in Gym Class
FICTION by Joe SackstederYoung God pulls his Dream Team from a roadside culvert, spins Lucifer from cornsilk—because not having a favorite is beyond even God’s young powers.… more
Three Stories
FICTION by Luke RolfesI can tell by the elliptical pupils—its cat eyes. The single mother is right. This snake is a viper. … more
Look What You Made Me Do
FICTION by Megan PillowIn the kitchen, Leta puts on dishwashing gloves, pulls a plastic bag from under the sink. In the backyard twilight, she scoops the cat carcass up, dumps it in the bag. The intestines coil at the bottom like a glistening snake. Behind her, Jack shifts in his pen, catching the scent of blood again, and she hisses at him, a warning. She ties the bag tight, shivers, holds it to her chest. Where to put it now? … more
