Fiction
written by David J Schow
Abel Swift bandaged up his hand as best he could, given that there were no dressings or hydrogen peroxide in the apartment. To buy that kind of stuff from a bodega he would have to hump down six floors of stairs, and Abel hated exerting himself to waste money. He mummied up his hand with one of his wife's halter tops tied in a knot, which gifted him with a bonus twinge of revenge. It served her right. More...
written by Thomas Roche
The fog was coming off the river and shrouding the town in winter magic. Vi slipped the 68 Caddy into low gear and came down the hill toward the housing development. Bruno reached out and touched her on the arm, a gesture of reassurance. She looked at him without smiling, but the warmth between them was obvious. They were two soldiers in combat. More...
written by Amelia G
He wasn't the sort of guy I normally saw at The Probe, not the sort who would normally be there on a gay night. Maybe for their Gothic or industrial nights, but not for hip-hop and not for gay. I'd actually checked out the Probe's Gothic night a couple of times because I'd heard some positively supernatural stuff goes on there. Didn't see much of anything. Mostly I just felt as out of place on those nights as this guy looked on my night. Well, my night or not, the DJ was doing that interminable techno remix style which makes every song sound exactly the same as the one before it. As a result, I was developing a splitting headache and I was bored of dancing. Normally I love to dance and I'm pretty athlet ic. I guess maybe I was more upset about the whole thing with Skip than I wanted to be. More...
