We should all be so lucky to have a friend like Andy. Bravo Mandy White. Bravo.
Short Story Sunday: The Last Time
The Last Time
by Richard Turton
I have no recollection of anything specific we spoke of that day. I’m sure the weather was involved because we always spoke of the weather in Georgia. He gave me words of advice, I’m sure, because that’s what he always did when he was going somewhere longer than overnight. His words soft, sweet, gentle.
More than once in the last few days, I’d seen him looking at the triangular walnut case on the mantle. There was a picture beside the flag, a man he’d never met; a picture of his father, my husband, in his Army dress uniform, strong, proud. A smaller picture, stuck in the corner of the frame, corners curling, fading. My husband, seated on a row of sandbags at some nameless firebase in Viet Nam.
Conversation quietly came to a comfortable close; neither of us wanting to talk of the…
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Social Distance
A sweet and bitter sweet story. A must read for everyone these days.
Gabrielle dressed meticulously. Each piece went on in a specific order: After the undergarments came the stockings, then two petticoats, the first with wide hoops sewn into the fabric, and the second made from a light, flowing fabric, slipped over top of the first. Her blouse buttoned high, up to her chin, and the sleeves fit snugly from wrist to elbow to accommodate the long gloves she would slip on over top after lacing her calf-length boots. A skirt of royal blue silk finished the ensemble, paired with a matching bodice laced over the blouse. She pinned her hair in an elegant yet casual updo and topped it with a wide-brimmed bonnet.
She slipped down the staircase quietly, hoping to avoid unnecessary questions from her mother. She didn’t want to have to explain where she was going. Her mother would…
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Short Story Sunday: Goji and the Angel
A short story to savor and love
Diana Garcia
Goji and the Angel
By Diana Garcia
Angel Rodriguez did not like it one bit. She was stuck. She heard a click as she turned the key and pumped the gas pedal, but nothing happened. So, here she was in the middle of the desert, in the middle of the night.
She sure as hell was not going out there in the dark to look for help. Her cell phone was dead so she would not go out until morning to look for other hikers.
Just go to sleep,she thought.
The the cacophony of night noises made it hard. It was the usual desert sounds she heard late at night but in the comfort of her own bed. Out here, it was different. Packs of passing and yipping howling coyotes, things slithering in the dirt right outside the car, and black shadows flying low and shrieking past…
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Last Call by R James Turley
Today I’m honored to share a story from my friend, and one of my favorite WordPress bloggers R James Turley.
Last Call
by R James Turley
When Suzy Night was introduced on stage, Ron’s mouth dropped open. She had a walk made for a run-way, and a body that just wouldn’t quit. Ron knew Kathy was going to hire a new singer, but didn’t know who. He did now. Those legs, that long dark hair stretched down her back. Ron stared at her, wondering what it’d be like to kiss those lushes lips.
“What do you think of our new singer?” Kathy sat down beside him at the table, two rows from the stage.
“She’s gorgeous,” he poured wine in both of their glasses. “Where did you find her?”
“She came in on open MIC night, and just started singing,” Kathy lifted her glass toward the stage.
Why couldn’t Ron…
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Noz
A fantastically good story from Mike Cooley.
Noz
By Mike Cooley
The thump woke me up. Noz looked at me, blood dripping from his fangs. The body was on the floor in the kitchen; she looked young. The cigarette between my stained fingers was still lit and my hair was matted against the side of my face. I was lying on the ratty couch and an empty bottle of something cheap was on the carpet between me and the dark glass table. The cabin smelled ashes, spilled red wine, and fate.
“Noz. What have I told you about bringing home strangers?” I nodded toward the young lady, who was lying on her back, motionless and pale. Her hair was sandy blonde, and she was wearing a jade necklace, a turquoise blouse, and black shorts. The smell of her perfume wafted toward me, floral and ephemeral.
Nozfuratu’s satisfied grin morphed into a look of apology. He licked his…
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Free Quarantine Reads:
Horror! Good stuff. Thanks Mandy for the free deal! You’re the best.
Most of us are stuck at home right now, trying to prevent the end of the world. I’m quite content to be at home; this is my usual routine. But I know this is new for some people and a lot of you are battling boredom.
To help entertain you, I’m offering a bunch of my books for free. Of course, if you have Amazon Prime, you can get them for free anytime and needn’t rush.
If you’ve already read these, do me a favor and share the link with your friends. We’re all in this together. Stay safe!
FREE Download April 4-8:
Dysfictional 2: Shreds of Sanity:
USA
Canada
UK
FREE DownloadApril 7-11:
Dysfictional 3: Down the Psycho Path:
USA
Canada
UK
And for those who want to escape into a different season altogether, WPaD is offering both of…
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Lurking, Squabbling Vampires
This was fun.
Author’s Note: This is my second story for Didi Oviatt’s March WIP Writing Challenge about Lurking Vampires.
“The Wolfman is clearly overrated, as monsters go.” Hildreth readjusted his Bossman 550 on his back.
“Well.” Jeff said. “You can’t pick Dracula. That’s too obvious.”
Hildreth thought it over as they walked down the sidewalk. “Okay. You have a point. Besides, Invisible Man is where it’s at. I mean, come on! The guy can go invisible at will.”
Jeff chuckled. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“So, I have the Invisible Man. Who do you get? And you can’t choose the same monster as me. That’s cheap cheating.”
“Hmm.” Jeff stopped and glanced around.
Hildreth stopped as well. He scanned the crowd just like how Master Initskay had taught them. Some vampires could blend in with regular humans with surprising ease. Others stood out in wrong and obvious ways. “What do…
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Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Last Call
Dear Diary,
When one is a Vampire one is not as fragile as those who walk the Earth with fragile hearts pumping hot blood and thoughts of love.
I attempt to be poetic but even that alludes me today.
My Vampire love Gillian is traveling and will not be home until late tonight. I feel an unease even for a Vampire. It is that odd dread remembered from my childhood. We were not in danger but everyone else was.
I decided to go down to Cassie’s bar. It is not called that. My closest warm blooded human friend Cassie owns the bar. Sitting with her and watching the other patrons would knock me out of my melancholia. I called my friend Randolpho to come join me but he said he was unavailable.
Randolpho quickly stopped talking on the phone which was quite unusual. He gave me no details to where…
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Tic Tac Oh
Short Story Sunday: Old Bones
Mystery solved!
From Dr. Shawna Green
February, 2020
Wales
Many believe Neanderthals believed in a spiritual world. Their graves are found with pollen, which is seen as proof of flowers put in with the buried dead.
In Wales, while on a dig for a 5th Century princess, we found a cave containing an unprecedented burial of five Neanderthal skeletons and three smaller Homo sapiens.
Not only was there pollen, but we also found shells, assorted stones arranged in spiral patterns, and stone tools.
My colleague Dr. Henry Evans carefully pulled out a small bit that looked like metal.
“That is an early Totenkopf skull and bones pin,” said Henry.
“The Nazis weren’t here.” I said. “Or were they?”
“This dirt hasn’t been moved for at least 50,000 years.”
I examined the smaller skulls.
“Henry, two of the skulls have dental work. It looks fairy modern.”
“20th Century. Looks like pre-1950,” said Henry.
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Just One Kiss
Free Kindle download Feb 16-20. Always free for Amazon Prime members.
The day her brother tore his own head off and didn’t die was the day Johanna first suspected that all was not right with the world.
Charlie seemed to be experiencing some sort of inner struggle: muttering to himself and pacing in circles, stopping from time to time to cover his ears and shake his head vigorously. They were in the kitchen, and Johanna had just finished brewing a pot of coffee. Charlie reached toward the cupboard above, like he was going to take out a mug. Instead of opening the cupboard, he placed his hand on the back of his neck, then turned to face Johanna.
“Must feed,” he said. He grabbed his head and pulled, bending his neck forward at an impossible angle. “Must… feeeed!” he grunted, twisting and pulling until Johanna swore his neck had stretched…
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“Children need art and stories and poems and music as much as they need love and food and fresh air and play. “
Yes! THIS. Everything. I hope everyone I know reads this and shares it. Thank you Philip Pullman.
giveaway: an imperfect dozen
Blind Trust
I’m loving these posts. Fun for the horror fans (and everyone else who wants a well written and unexpected story)
What good is a romantic story without secrets and lies? (and death, because that’s how I roll) No marriage is perfect… This story was published in Creepies 3 by WPaD and also in my Dysfictional 3 collection.
This year, Gina’s gift to her husband would be extra special. It had been years in the planning; an interminable wait list, clandestine phone calls, hasty arrangements with the help of her sister when the time finally came.
Keeping the secret from Stuart had been agonizing; usually, they told each other everything. Conveniently, he was away on business when Gina and Maxine boarded a taxi for the airport. She told him her sister was recovering from surgery and needed an extra set of hands around the house for a couple of weeks. It was a half-truth; she did stay with her sister in Boston, but it was…
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West Coast Review 