Step into the Light by Daniel Jarvis
“Step into the light, I dare you,” Marshall said as he struggled to contain his laughter.
Continue readingShort Stories
“Step into the light, I dare you,” Marshall said as he struggled to contain his laughter.
Continue readingIt was the red that drew my eye as soon as I came through the door. I quickly looked away and walked past to a vacant table.
Continue readingSam’s text read, “Plz come over, its an Emgcy.”
Continue readingAnd that’s why he would have called me, thief.
The Atlantic licked my toes as I stood on the beach, jar in hand. The jar contained a ring along with a photo of us.
Continue readingI stared at the computer screen, the recipe for blueberry cobbler staring back at me as my daughter’s voice, plaintive as a puppy’s whine, pleaded, “Please, Mom, why can’t I go?
Continue readingAmy wondered if she should post it on Facebook. She was about to explode with excitement and needed to tell someone. Anyone. This was BIG. Bigger than anything
Continue reading“Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch,” muttered Vern Kravchuk as he leafed through the Farnham Chronicle. A 1978 VETTEAND IN MINT CONDITION.
Continue readingThrough the open window above the tub, an outcry reaches us from the world. I sink my battleship, but it pops right back up to the surface. More shouts follow.
Continue readingThere is a ridge, almost a small cliff, made where the Atlantic bites into the sand. The waves have created a vertical face, a drop dividing the beach in two.
Continue readingPaul Weidknecht’s stories can be found in the anthology Once Around the Sun: Sweet, Funny, and Strange Tales for All Seasons (Bethlehem Writers Group, LLC). Publications include work in Best New Writing 2015
Continue reading“Seventy hours,” said the man across the table from Peter Crown. Peter had invited him in for tea on an impulse that didn’t feel like his own. He didn’t even remember hearing a knock at the door.
Continue readingPay attention. Listen to what I hear. I took pride in my craft. I slaved all day with no help, no offers of help. I expressed my affection through my work. My loved ones gathered around, and took part in this,
Continue readingYou were nestling atop the bookshelf, between a battered Harold Robbins and a few tomes of Umberto Eco, patiently waiting for someone to take you home. You were picked up endlessly by second-hand book hunters but dismissed,
Continue readingAs a child, my mother used to tell me bedtime stories to help me fall asleep. With a glass of scotch resting on my bedspread, she would recount tales of her childhood in Kamsack, Saskatchewan.
Continue readingIn Mexico there are always sounds to announce one thing or another. I especially like the knife sharpeners whistle…..
A long, low fluting whistle
Continue reading