short fiction

The Monkey’s Paw

October 8, 2018 By W.W. Jacobs in Old Stories Tags: short fiction, horror, scary stories, W.W. Jacobs, fate, wishes

I Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlour of Laburnam Villa the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly. Father and son were at chess, the former, who possessed ideas about the game involving radical changes, putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary perils that it even provoked comment from the white-haired old lady knitting placidly by the fire. This is perhaps W.W. Jacobs most famous scary story — but can you remember how it works out? The English civil servant wrote plenty of short stories and a couple of novels, too, many [Read More]

The Occupant of the Room

October 5, 2018 By Algernon Blackwood in Old Stories Tags: scary stories, fiction, short fiction, Algernon Blackwood, weird stories, old story, horror

He arrived late at night by the yellow diligence, stiff and cramped after the toilsome ascent of three slow hours. The village, a single mass of shadow, was already asleep. Only in front of the little hotel was there noise and light and bustle—for a moment. The horses, with tired, slouching gait, crossed the road and disappeared into the stable of their own accord, their harness trailing in the dust; and the lumbering diligence stood for the night where they had dragged it—the body of a great yellow-sided beetle with broken legs. Algernon Blackwood was an English novelist and a prolific [Read More]

She Used To!

June 26, 2018 By Lars Peterson in New Short Fiction Tags: bridgeport, gas station, roadster, tom joad, short fiction

I was the night shift cashier at a gas station/mini-mart in Bridgeport, California one summer. Ours may have been the only gas station or store open all night on that stretch of 395 between Mammoth and Topaz. Not too many people pulled in, but we got enough to make it worthwhile to the station’s owner. One night in late August, just before four a.m. when the chill was really beginning to set in, an old MG roadster bounced up to the pumps. It was top down and stacked with suitcases, crushed u-haul boxes, picture frames, a bit of old carpet [Read More]

The Death of Sears

May 8, 2018 By Lars Peterson in 150 Words Tags: short fiction, 150 words, sears, refrigerator

Years ago my dad bought a refrigerator for like $800 and paid for it with a check and then a couple months later I overheard him complaining to my stepmother that that goddamned check hadn’t cleared yet and it was screwing up his checkbook. This went on for months until he finally called the bank who told him to call the Sears and they told him they didn’t have any record of that transaction whatsoever. “Well now what am I supposed to do?” he said. “Enjoy your free refrigerator.” Which he did, but only because he kept that $800 on [Read More]

Of Dogs and Donuts

October 7, 2014 By Pete Galvan in New Short Fiction Tags: donuts, fences, pigs, dogs, fiction, short fiction

I utter to myself, “Your soul is Rome but your hopes are Pompei.” Time has done to my face what the Internet has done to human decency. I descend the stairs noting that 100 years has made them the deepest conceivable brown. “It smells like an old trumpet case in here.” My reluctance has become the issue. No longer is the issue the powdered donuts I venture out to buy. Rather it is my reluctance. My reluctance to step out into the harsh, sallow light unique to this geography. Dust steeps in the humid air and the nearby highway moans [Read More]

Old Man’s Day at the Park

August 26, 2014 By Lars Peterson in 150 Words Tags: short fiction, 150 words, hundred-fifty, Apa

My wife’s grandfather was a Bracero from Mexico in the ’50s. He’s a tough and charming man, 94, lives alone with some paid help afternoons. Last month he got one of his grandkids’ kids a job at McDonalds. He told them they should hire the kid, he bought a McMuffin, and they hired Albert. Saturday he told us, in Spanish because English hasn’t pierced his skull in 60 years, about an afternoon he’d had at the park. He met a younger woman (60s), and soon she asked how old he was. “How old do you think?” “Maybe in your 80s?” “My 80s? Hah. If I were still in my [Read More]

Adventures in Litter Bay: Coheed Is Awakened Early

August 19, 2014 By Lars Peterson in Serials Tags: lemons, coheed, short fiction, park, lemonade

This entry is part 3 of 3 in the series Adventures in Litter Bay

Coheed was awakened by the sound of children’s voices rising up from the park below his one bedroom apartment. “Lemonade Lemonade Lemonade!” they yelled. “Lemonade Lemonayyde Lemonade,” came their little boys’ and girls’ voices, some breaking into scratchy urgent little girl and boy screams, “Lemonaaaade! Lemonaaade! Lemon-aay-aay-ade!” He looked over at the clock; nine-seventeen. Ten minutes later it had not abated. “Lemonade Lemonade Lemon-aay-aay-ade.” He pushed the covers aside and reached for last night’s blue jeans and t-shirt that lay carefully folded on the chair at the foot of the bed. Coheed was habitually tidy, no matter the hour or his condition. He took [Read More]

The Sandwich

August 9, 2014 By Lars Peterson in New Short Fiction Tags: short fiction, publishing, sandwich, chat, email

From: jmacallan@gmail.com To: jawalma@gmail.com Subject: RE: Sandwich That’s better. Don’t forget again! Your assistant? Must be nice. When do I get an assistant? I think if you’re the only competent one then worldfarer is in a world of hurt! (j/k) ILY -J From: jawalma@gmail.com To: jmacallan@gmail.com Subject: RE: Sandwich Oh, opps – ILY. Also: Yes, of course. East Africa was only part of the celebration, sweetie. Yeah, far. Gonna send EBeth on her first ever solo press check. The price for this honor is picking up my sandwich on the way back. I’ll probably have to buy her one, [Read More]

Not the Dog!

May 31, 2013 By Lars Peterson in New Short Fiction Tags: dogs, fiction, short fiction, doughty

One afternoon I told my friend John Scane I was maybe planning on watching I Am Legend later that evening on streaming, and I said, “Hey have you seen it?” and he said, “Yeah, sure a while ago. It’s pretty good,” and I said, “It’s got zombies, though, right? You know I can’t take too much of the gore and stuff,” and he said, “Yeah, there’s zombies. It’s scary, but no real gore. You should be OK,” and I said, “OK.” So the movie started and there was that beautiful dog, and I texted John and texted, “the dog? do [Read More]

Good Dog Bad Heart

May 24, 2013 By Lars Peterson in 150 Words Tags: 150 words, terrier, heart, syncope, fiction, short fiction

I have a good terrier with a weak heart. She’ll die early. She’s still young, just four, and her condition isn’t apparent unless she’s playing hard at fetch or chase the hose water. When it gets her, she stops, lies down, rolls over, breathes, and waits. It’s syncope — the light headedness you feel when you stand too fast. Her heart can’t keep pace with her legs and her lungs and eventually there isn’t enough blood to her brain. When she was a pup it would sneak up on her while she romped — Boom, and over she went. She’s [Read More]

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