Category: short story
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3 More Days!
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by
You have just over 3 days left to enter our first annual short story writing contest. Submissions close at 11:59 p.m. on Aug. 31st. We’re eager to read conservative and apolitical short stories up to 5,000 words. We want fiction, nonfiction, and everything in between. Let your voice shine. Put forth your values and experiences…
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Sliding into Obscurity by Michael E. Theroux
Broken shards of our distant dreams of Peace and Love, and Brotherhood have been claimed by the Overlords to woo us with our own slogans. Those dreams are now their scythes. We don’t even feel the razor’s edge. After all, we lit the Freedom Fuse, which comes back now to burn us. We measure our…
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“California Conquered What the Krauts Couldn’t” by Todd Anderson
Boot camp was a bitch in heat. The young man with interrupted college had matriculated enough units while at Rutgers, and more importantly, had stripped down and reassembled his M1 under immediate duress from his D.I. in impressive enough time so that he entered the war a second lieutenant. Suddenly, he found himself a second-wave…
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Writing Contest Entry Update
We’re less than a month away from the kickoff of our first annual summer writing contests. Writers should NOT SUBMIT their work until the entry dates are open. Each month focuses on a different writing art: June=Poetry July=Nonfiction August=Fiction Entry details and fees for each competition are listed below. Annual Poetry Competition Move us. Make…
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When Fascism Comes to California, It Will Come in the Guise of Anti-Fascism by Todd Anderson
Orange shards of sparks flew upwards over the campus quad. This bonfire, like the many other college campus bonfires across California, raged. It melted media like candles: the books and DVDs, the CD-ROMs and plastic flash-drives, the unbound stacks of printed-paper theses. Cali-Nacht was born: The night when the Great State of California would finally…
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The Duke of Six Thirteen by J. Rawley
(This is a true story. It happened in a large hospital in the capital city of a state on the east coast and the events transpired so many years (decades) ago, that I feel confident nearly everyone involved is dead. I changed a few details (the actual room was, I think, on the 4th floor,…
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Coming Home by Paul Clayton
Jack sat at the kitchen table, sipping his morning coffee. For months he’d been struggling. A week earlier he had called his brother, Dan. Dan was married, really married. He couldn’t decide what cut of beef to buy without consulting Marge. Jack hadn’t complained about his aloneness, merely mentioned it in passing, like talk of…
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