The Weary Gambler
Fiction by Elmore Collins | We were tired. So tired. It’s hard to tell you how tired we were. Things weren’t that bad until our second was born. A little boy with a cleft lip
read moreFiction by Elmore Collins | We were tired. So tired. It’s hard to tell you how tired we were. Things weren’t that bad until our second was born. A little boy with a cleft lip
read moreFiction by Frank Kidd | The bodies were damn near falling out of the back. Blood everywhere. Mangled flesh and bone. Charred uniforms that said the fighting had been up close and personal
read moreFiction by PCM Christ | Boss threw him the keys, and A.R. hoofed the quarter mile, grabbed the rifles and hurried back. When he arrived, the deputies were returning from the now still and quiet woods, dragging Loftis back, his innards trailing slowly behind him, sticking for a moment on a vine of thorns, no one in the state of mind to pick them up and put them back
read moreFiction by PCM Christ | The next morning, they took their breakfast on the back deck. A breeze lilted through, bringing the coolness of the night still nestled around the mountain top in dew and rising mist
read moreFiction by PCM Christ | They all stood there with tears of perspiration pouring down their faces, while the preacher dotted the corners of his mouth and then his forehead like preacher men do and he said that the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away and to everything there is a season, and Ausby was gone but she lived on in memories and legacy and she’d be seen again someday when we meet on that Heavenly shore. Amen
read moreFiction by Michael Long | So much for sweet talk. It was almost midnight when we got aboard a covered motorized trishaw that took us about a mile up Gordon Avenue. Susie paid the driver. She took my hand and led me through a narrow alley between two concrete block buildings to her front door at number ninety-two.
read moreFiction by Ryan W. Morgan | Jay *Boss* Dawson is not a hero. Broke and beaten down, he half-works a shitty government job while drowning himself in whiskey and chasing tail to pass the time. But when a fully-loaded Mexican cartel cargo drone crashes in the backyard of his little blue rental home, everything changes
read moreFiction by Frederick Pace | It was a white house. It had four windows on the front side and four windows on the back side, facing a small garden and in the morning the sun as it rose. It was located in Wyoming
read moreFiction by Ryan W. Morgan | Jay *Boss* Dawson is not a hero. Broke and beaten down, he half-works a shitty government job while drowning himself in whiskey and chasing tail to pass the time. But when a fully-loaded Mexican cartel cargo drone crashes in the backyard of his little blue rental home, everything changes
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