Short Stories

Finding a Refugee a Home   Fuzzy wasn’t my cat although I fed him every morning at four o'clock for 10 years.   He was my wife’s cat, loved to sit on her lap, be petted, jump down and rub his head against her feet.   He was ...

The Plane Home          By Douglas Robbins I’m on my way this time. I’m tired of being lonely, a nobody, living in the shadows of my life. I’ve been on my way before and always got stuck. I’m heading home ...

sKiN by, Melissa R. Mendelson Are you hungry? Are you thirsty? Are you cold? Are you warm? Are you awake? Are you aware? These questions ran on a loop. It seemed like with every hour, they greeted me as an ...

Please, Stay and Guard Me by, Melissa R. Mendelson The room was a soft white.  Lit candles decorated the furniture.  Their flames bowed and swayed.  Their warmth struggled to chase the coldness away.  They failed.  Still, they fought. I pulled ...

The Camp By, Melissa R. Mendelson White snow clung to metal, begging for escape.  Its watery fingers traced the barb wire.  Cold tears fell, circling and plummeting to the ground, eaten by oblivion.  A glimpse of sunlight tried to catch ...

MORNING RUN by Norbert Kovacs (Originally published in FIVE:2:ONE's #thesideshow, May 12, 2018. The author has revised the text.) For three weeks, Phil's veins ran with anticipation. He woke with a tingling in his arms and a warmth suffusing his ...

I have many fond memories of my childhood summers spent at the local swimming pool. To me, the pool was a magical place where I would spend countless hours in play, splashing the day away with my friends. I can still ...

Plight The house of Saman and Shayan was located on a three-part street; the houses with yard were in the first part, corporate houses were in the middle and in the end there were the garrison and a military training ...

The Haunting of Piedras BlancasBy DC Diamondopolous There is no end to my love for Jemjasee. I pace the ragged cliffs, searching the sea for her ship. My longing will not cease until I am entwined in her marble wash ...

Conversations over drinks on the Psychology of Isolation By David Portyanskiy I was sitting alone underneath the dark lights drinking a cocktail I couldn’t remember the name of. The days go by leaving me more and more time to drink ...