Dusk. I can hear them in the walls. The chitter of their legs rattles plaster.
She had finally done it. She had become a cantankerous old lady.
She lay on the bed crying, the tears wouldn’t cease. The world was so god-damn unfair. She...
“We think the chance of change is good but so far we haven't recorded anything concrete.”
Sophia immerses the podgy quail into a pot of hot water and then starts plucking them. Tufts...
He could hear it. Slowly, cautiously advancing .Building up pressure slowly increasing ever slightly. And then all...
I was home on break. Freezing rain came and went. The cold, however, crossed its arms and...
Driving down the hill I see the same bend in the road the school bus took me...
“A boy--good job, Mom!”
My doctor’s baritone penetrates the delivery room’s soundscape: sighing vacuum pumps, a chorus of...
Paul Finnigan is a short story writer from Ottawa, Canada. He has a collection of short fiction...
I need to know if Di Fara has the best pizza in New York.
That day when we first kissed was a rainy Tuesday. We met for an innocent coffee while...
The mourners dispersed from the graveside in groups of twos and threes. They paused to pay their...
It is louder than a train passing only inches from our faces. It splashes in our ears,...
Danny fixated his eyes upon a bursting star of grandiose fireworks, sparkling with eye-catching colors outside the...
