Submitted Short Stories
by H. P. Lovecraft Of such great powers or beings there may be conceivably a survival… a survival of a hugely remote period when… consciousness was manifested, perhaps, in shapes and forms long since withdrawn before the tide of advancing humanity… forms of which poetry and legend alone have caught […]
by Kyle K. Mann Whatever was shining brightly over the night-shrouded freeway up ahead was extremely unusual and bizarre. I raced out of L.A. at midnight on northbound Interstate-5 with my buddy, Ab the Editor, riding shotgun. We were bound for San Francisco and looked to arrive a bit before […]
by Edgar Allan Poe THE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I […]
‘ By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. (Macbeth, 4.1)’ by Saira Viola Selwyn was a simple man. He liked simple things: the colour blue, beer, beef steaks and chopping people up. He was short with a squat rot complexion pitted with scars and bad memories. Selwyn had sand-coloured hair and […]
by Washington Irving In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail and implored the protection of Saint […]
by Marc D. Goldfinger artwork copyright© 2015 joeyfeldman, www.joeyfeldman.com There is no sense of time here. Have I been in the Troll’s basement for thirty days? Or has it been thirty years? The other junkies who dropped in here today tell me that it is raining outside. They say […]
by nikki vixen In 1983 I was 18 years old living on Avenue B between 11th and 12th Streets in NYC’s East Village. A block of 5 story tenements with lines of junkies waiting to cop in front of my door. My place was on the third floor. Apartments […]
by Tony X Stanton I walked along with my son, the sun’s rays beating down on my head, somewhat of a rare occurrence in my home town. It often seemed to me that the little town of Consett not far from Durham in England was quite similar to the […]
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