Before you hit the Halloween parties this year, Louis Raymond has a little advice for you, should you happen to meet an attractive zombie.
As in your pre-apocalyptic relationships, be a little cheesy. Take your undead lover on a walk by the ocean, among the dimming dusk, hours after the zombie-tourists have retreated to their second-homes and seaside wine bars. Share a bottle of Cab on the jetty. Read her Byron and Keats.
Maybe a little Poe.
Ambika Thompson's brilliant superhero short story, "Middle-Age, Love, and Spandex".
I checked the internet, and self-diagnosed, against my better judgement. Nonetheless it became clear, that I had become a superhero. Like Spider-Man with a radioactive spider bite, the Fantastic Four with their cosmic rays, or the Hulk with, well I don't remember what happened to him. A finger in a light socket or something like that.
A flash fiction piece from Christina Dalcher, "Me and Ol' Blue".
She don't answer, but Blue swaggers onto the porch and sets himself next to my rocker, pantin' like a pup. Two white canines shine in the light, and a drop of red hits the floorboard next to my shoe. There's sparkle in Blue's eyes, all the tiredness of sixteen dog-years gone away.
Sarah Frances Moran with the post-apocalyptic flash fiction piece "2026 Bradley Place".
We’ve been walking for days without shelter and the load of our belongings is beginning to wear on us. His panting has become ragged and his paw pads are blistered. He doesn’t complain though, just keeps pace with me. My mouth and throat are so dry and I can only imagine how he feels, tongue dangling in this stagnant air.
Toy Story meets the janitor's closet in Shawn Berman's hilarious short story "The Island of Misfit Janitorial Items".
Friends always say to me: Oh, Mop, you are very hard worker! It must suck to be mistreated and clean human urine on daily basis. And I tell my friends: it do suck. It suck so much. And I wonder: why can’t humans reach toilet? Why must humans miss all time? Don’t they know I have to clean their mess?
Come dance along with new flash fiction from Clare Hagan, "Balance and Swing".
“Come on, man.” Salem grabbed Josh’s skinny arm. “All of our friends decided to go Contra dancing tonight and everyone is having a fantastic time except for you. Just give it a try. I promise. I don’t know a single person who hasn’t enjoyed it.”
An Emergency Room visit with a fiendish twist in Margi Desmond's short story, "E.R. Madness".
“I hope one day you’re really sick and nobody gives a damn about you,” Pearl spat. “And as you suffer, think of me and how little compassion you showed a decent woman in dire need. Karma’s a bitch, lady.”
Jeffrey Miller tells the tale of one woman's desperate journey in his harrowing short story "The Roads We Must Travel".
“You need to be more careful, Comrade Kim,” the soldier said, reaching down and grabbing the packet. “As I said, this road can be very dangerous.”
Suffering through groomsman duty in Alex Schumacher's "Rock the Cash Bar".
"Weddings.
Huh!
What are they good for?
Absolutely nothing."
Our Writer of the Month for October 2015, Erin Parker, shares a story of a most unlikely hero, "Small Creatures".
That’s how it all started. Nobody knows who I am except for the animals. I don’t have a catchy name, a mask or a cape, and that’s the way I like it.
