Independent Small Press Publisher

The morning was cold. I had barely opened my eyes and he was already downstairs, coughing. Every day I convinced myself – I'm done… I...

“You can’t leave,” Mrs. Gannett pleaded from behind him as he tested the screen door. He nodded with satisfaction at the silent closure....

“A man was here looking for you, Mark,” Pam Weeks remarked without looking away from her computer screen. “After you left last night.”...

It was a short life but a good one. Before he died, William Bidden had made peace with his god after a rough patch that saw him plummet...

"Hey," sounded a rough and labored voice from behind. The hand had left my shoulder the moment it made contact. I spun around and found...

He remembered it clearly. In grade 8 English class, the teacher had asked them to fill in the blank at the end of the sentence and write...

Mother often said never to take a ride from a stranger, among the many other wise and foreseeing things mothers say, or should say, to...

It was summer 1986, Adelaide. Mike moved to the lush groove of Parliament’s Flashlight booming out of his Holden HR’s cassette deck....

“Morning,” he said. “You’re gorgeous when you’re awake and gorgeous when you’re asleep.” Ruby beamed. “We have the house all to ourselves...

This story has previously appeared online in Syndic. Chapter One: Kid Hermes “How does it feel to wake up each morning knowing you’re a...