Part One. Now’s when you tell me why you killed me, the man says from his resting place, slumped and halved and bleeding against the wall of the cabin. The walls and floors and roof are cedar, and they smell fragrant in the summertime, but in the winter they smell like the bitter, indifferent coldContinue reading “Broodwood”
Category Archives: Short Fiction
Jack, or was it Jake?
I. Jack. Or Jake. I don’t exactly know for sure, ’cause everybody used to call the cat one or the other. One night old Paul’d be in and see the skinny cat hangin’ out in his usual spot at the end of the counter. He’d holler, “How you been, Jake?” And cat would nod andContinue reading “Jack, or was it Jake?”
Perch
Perch adjusts the 50″ flat screen in his grasp, scared paranoid above anything else of allowing it to touch the sidewalk. The way they make these things now, they’re almost designed to shatter. His mind babbles, groans, mutters.
Bruise
Pretty girl. Nice dress that shows off her legs. Just below her left knee, on the inside, sits a bruise the size of a dollar coin. Looks like a slightly faded ink spot. Like a slightly overripe banana.
Celebrity Feet
The scene ends and the director yells “Cut!” and the cameras cease filming. The star, a tall and distinguished blonde steps down from the podium and straightens her tailored black suit jacket, releasing a deep and cleansing breath the way her yoga instructor taught her.
Kentucky Fried Girlfriend
Dear KFC, My name is Peter Valchek. You don’t know me, but I sure as fuck know you. I have loved your chicken for years. Your chicken is the most beautiful thing I have ever known, and the Colonel does not deserve her. That’s right.
The Magician
The day started off normal enough, I muse to myself falling heavily into the chair pulled up to my kitchen table and gripping the cold bottle of lager freshly procured from my fridge. Thinking back on the events of the day, I find myself scarcely able to accept they actually occurred. Life sure can beContinue reading “The Magician”
The Story of the Wendigo
The boy’s father was a strong, hard but kind man named Joseph, who built the cabin over ten years ago with his father and brothers. The last shingle was nailed to the cabin’s roof shortly before the boy, whose name was Michael, was born, and Michael’s sister Amber was two years old. Joseph built theContinue reading “The Story of the Wendigo”
First Date
The collar of her jacket had been bothering her from the moment she donned the beige tweed fiasco before leaving the flat. Now she was trapped in a date of the “trying to nail down a life-mate before it’s too late” variety, nestled in a forgivingly private leather booth at the neighbourhood bar.
Fred
I’m in a restaurant bar off Broadway seeing the sunlight carried on a thousand specks of dust floating in the still air and listening to popular songs from the nineties. It’s that quiet time which crawls along daily between lunch and dinner, when most of the world is holed up in offices and classrooms. I’mContinue reading “Fred”
bernard barnes . artist . writer 