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Tag Archives: Short Stories

THE MAN FROM GOLDMAN SACHS by Preston Lang

  At Cambridge Brothers Capital Markets Financial Group Incorporated, we had cock fights. In the stairwell after hours we’d strap razors to the birds and let them go at it. Dane, who specialized in emerging markets, was the organizer. Guys would come from all over the Street, and we’d generally …

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DEATH COMES TO UNCLE BOB by David Rachels

  In the woods next to the 17thfairway, I found my father standing over Uncle Bob with a bloody wedge in his hands. My father said, “This isn’t what it looks like.” I said, “You mean Uncle Bob isn’t dead?” The 17th hole had begun normally: Uncle Bob had driven …

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I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU by Michael Bracken

  Carl held his wife’s hand and listened until her last breath escaped from between her lips and the machine monitoring her heartbeat registered nothing. She had signed a Do Not Resuscitate order, and he knew no one would be coming. “Why?” he demanded of the universe. Amy had been …

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BOTTOM’S UP by Gabriel Hart

  In pursuit of excitement, not all nights out on the town are going hit that fever pitch you’re looking for. In fact, some end just like they begin, depending on your company. Some people just live on a loop until the circle finally cracks for them. “Bottom’s up!” hollered …

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TRUCE by Ara Hone

  I stared at the yellowed photo, a before shot. In it, we were coordinated. Us boys wore blue shirts, and the gals wore green. Ma held me against her belly, and the rest of our clan, including Pa, tangled around her like puppies. I supposed one objective of the …

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RECALIBRATION by Tom Leins

  2051 Harlan found us in an abandoned foodbank. My sallow reflection looked distorted in his cracked visor. My eyeballs looked piss-yellow, my beard resembled long-dead roadkill. “Are you going to kill us, Mister?” I asked. He crouched in front of me, his ventilator groaning, his expression inscrutable. “No, son.” …

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MEMORIES OF FIRE by C.W. Blackwell

  Gina expected a corpse, but the man she found in the trailer was only half-dead. Fresh blood on the mattress. Hair matted to the sweat-damp pillow. Three days ago, Marco sat at death’s door. Now it looked like death had chewed him up and spit him out again. “I …

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