E
Jul/Aug 2013

e c l e c t i c a   f i c t i o n

Fiction


(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole story!)

 

The Tiny Speck in Amata's Rib
 
After I tell you this story, nothing will be the same again. Are you ready for that?
 
Scott Stambach

 

The Seven-Thousand-Year-Old Spirit
 
This night Nwafanim and two assigned policemen would lie in wait at the pyramid for the spirit when it came to collect the balance of last week's yams. Everybody at the station agreed that the request had the fittings of a scam. Doubtless, the mastermind had run the scheme over several months, years maybe. The D.P.O. and his deputy had shown an amused, intelligent interest in the case.
 
Iheoma Nwachukwu

 

Love is not time's fool
 
An emergency room is a place where you bring a fear: that something new is wrong or something old has won. Fears brought to people you do not know and surely do not know you other than by the name of your disease. You enter their fluorescent world, one that engages her fear of anonymity and the costume the disease forces her to wear.
 
Joel B. Levine

 

Miller
 
Miller is one of the ones a good mother would warn you about—never too far away from women or parties, and nobody ain't have a clue how he getting the money to pay for either one.
 
Cherie Jones

 

Halfaman
 
Halfaman was an asymmetrical figure, one who always looked poised to keel over and fall, except when he would smile. He had a beaming grin that would expand right across his face. A massive smile, one that would have been a remarkable enough thing on its own, even on a man who was whole, but was miraculous here, that he could smile, let alone smile like this, when he was evidence of just how wicked life could be to a person.
 
Ernest Bazanye Sempebwa

 

Minor Fall, Major Lift
 
Nothing would please me more at this moment than to run out into the street and beat my fists against the ground, but I haven't missed a karaoke night at Max Rogan's all year, and above all else, the show must go on.
 
Andrew Valencia

 

Boundaries
 
Scott, she knew, would want a hot shower to wash off the sweat and grime from the long flight. Then he'd want a big meal: a plate-sized Porterhouse, baked potatoes with butter and sour cream, and two or three chilled Heinekens. After that, he'd want to sleep, just sleep, in his own bed. The sex would come later.
 
Pam McGaffin

 

A Perfectly Reasonable Request
 
Where she got her information remained a mystery, but it sure as hell wasn't psychic powers. Most days she had trouble just trying to determine which planet she inhabited. A far more likely explanation was Melman's mob connections.
 
Grant Jarrett

 

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