Tag Archives: fiction
“It is not easy to remove a heart with a spoon from the chest of a man, nor is it clean. The spoon was purchased 48 hours earlier from the Bed, Bath & Beyond on 9th Street.” New fiction by Allan Shapiro.
“When the sergeant smeared ash across my face I should have resigned, gone home or anywhere else, and never come back.” A Mythic Indy story by Ryan Everett Felton.
“Lieutenant Craig had a job to do, and he was going to get it over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. No one else had wanted to clean out Detective Robinson’s personal effects after he’d been killed in the line of duty…” A Mythic Indy story by R. Wolf Baldassarro.
“The only sign of the king penguin infestation of the 1970s is a trio of brass statues, displayed in what’s left of the old Glendale Mall, roped off like a museum exhibit. Some believe that’s the spot where it all began.” A Mythic Indy story by Dawn Fable.
“She left him at the corner and got into her car. He was only six. She told him she would be right back. He waited all afternoon in the rain for her and then walked to his grandmother’s, because there was nowhere else to go.” New fiction by David Luntz.
“The moment he opened the door at Peppy Grill, Gage knew something was wrong. Everything seemed normal: the grease-stained aprons, the scraping of forks on china, the smells of toast and bacon and burned coffee, the ancient cash register.” A Mythic Indy story by Ken Honeywell.
“But why in this era of same-sex marriage and Stars Coming Out must we continue to ignore the utter, blatant, in-your-face queerness of Jackson’s work?” James Daubs shines a light.
“Padding through the Indiana State Capitol’s lawn, an orphan planned her parents’ funerals. It made no difference that they both were still alive, because they did not love her.” A Mythic Indy story by Zach Roth.
“Danny set up puzzles sometimes, once the AI got running and his machines began to learn. The way they moved, restraint was the easiest form of puzzle to build, so he’d switch them off, fasten a robotic arm to the table with a rope or a chain, then switch them on again.” New fiction by Alex Mattingly.