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Guidelines About the Magazine Editor-in-Chief: Managing Editor: Associate Editor: |
"Rose-Coloured Glasses " Read it Curiosities was the shop's name.
"Seduction by Pickle " Read it I picked up the receiver on the fourth ring. I waited until the fourth ring not to sound desperate or alone. The caller might think I'd just
"Anu, Setia Haas, Bastet Ptah " Read it To say it was a sparse room was an understatement. For furnishings, there was just a single old battered wooden chair just a step away from the dump. The walls were bare with only peeling wallpaper of an undecipherable pattern that barely kept the plaster from falling to the floor. The lone source of light in this room was a westward facing window that showed the last gasps of light from the ebbing day.
"Unnatural Acts " Read it Now was the time.
"Crust" Read it The reason that the six-star resort on the northwest side of the Indonesian Ocean was so popular was the weather. Rain, shine or monsoon, it was perfect: sun during the long, lazy hours of the day, punctuated by intermittent breezes drawn in from the salty ocean winds; light drizzle during the night (to keep things green) and again, gently, in the morning for just a few minutes. There were never any complaints, which was why the weather tax for the region was so high.
"The Masseuse" Read it ¡§Cross the Fremont Bridge. Turn right. Then left on Stone Way. You'll see a gray house, a pink neon sign. `Helen's Beauty Boutique.' First right passed the sign. You'll be on Lucas Place. Halfway down the block is 117. Buzz 9. I'll be expecting you.¡¨ Those were the directions she'd given him over the phone. He was certain he had them straight.
"Fawn Eyes"
Read it As I settle on
"Suicide"
Read it He wouldn’t stop trying to kill himself. Every time I looked away, he buried another nail into his head.
"Zefonith's Key"
Read it “William … cheerio and drat! I’ve forgotten the time difference across the Atlantic. I do apologize for this rather impromptu message, but I simply had to share some extraordinary news. My theory on the ancient worship of Zefonith in the Americas is on the verge of being proven! Thanks to the generosity of the University staff here at Arkham, I have discovered a very intriguing pictograph image belonging to the Lenape indians: it is identical to images I have obtained of a Persian incantation bowl of the sixth century CE bearing the image of Zefonith! I am astounded by this discovery . It only raises more questions than it answers, and I plan to investigate at once. The images were photographed some years ago in a place called Milmay in the State of New Jersey. I shall contact you as soon as I arrive. Prepare the Oxford blokes … I’m going to make them eat their words.” Click.
"The Ride"
Read it Dean had been thumbing for almost six hours when the guy in the Cadillac picked him up. He had a moment of suspicion—average Joes didn’t pull over in the middle of the night to pick up hitchers—but only a moment. It was cold and the thought of spending the night in some rundown barn wasn’t appealing. Besides, he thought, I can handle whatever comes up.
"Woah"
Read it I was standing on this street corner, and this guy was breaking all the shop windows. I tried to reason with him. “Whoa, whoa!” I said.
The Babel Frequency
Read it The woman woke from fitful sleep, her hair drenched with sweat, the visions of the dream world still fresh in her consciousness. This was the most important time. Only in sleep could she remember the past. Only in the dream world did she truly know who she was and what things were. But there was a danger; in the dream world, dead men walked.
Food For Thought
Read it Benny looked at the chocolate cake and then
pushed the plate away. He had had enough, and now it was time to say so. Benny
looked up, smiling at his Aunt Ruth, took the toothpick from the table’s center
piece, and stuck it between his lips.
It was a cool Sunday evening, one of the warmest days in February. Despite the positive weather change of this bitter month, I was shivering like a dying leaf, ready to fall from a branch's grasp. While walking on the quiet streets of Amsterdam Avenue, I looked at each building number attentively, hoping to find number 209. Lizzy was expecting my visit and truthfully, I wanted to get this over with. 201, 203, 205, 207…209. My breath became short and my heart was beating like drums being played at Columbus Circle subway station. Sweat beads slowly dripped from my freshly shaven armpits, down to my fingertips. I turned the next page of the notebook I was holding, avoiding to smudge previous writings. There was no turning back, especially when the subway station was 8 blocks away on a hill. Besides, what would my cousin Lizzy think of me for not coming over as I previously stated? The Climber
Read it Sea waves lifted and lowered him kindly and playfully like a cork. Kicking with his legs in tepid water, he enjoyed the comfort of weightlessness. Just when he decided to turn toward the coast, a vivacious polka blasted him out of his bed. He slammed the button of the radio alarm clock and yawned widely.
The Affair
Read it I’d heard stories about him before. Something having to do with a Perkins Restaurant in Florida, when Christine and her siblings were kids. He’d flown into a rage and slammed the ketchup bottle onto the glass table top, sending a crack straight down the middle.
The Cuda
Read it Robert’s hands were on the wheel, and he looked around the car panicked. He could only see well in front of him where the headlights shined, but he could see a few feet behind him in the taillights’ red glow. And he could see about twenty feet at either side of the car into the woods on both sides. But he didn’t see the kid.
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