Short Fiction

Short Fiction from issues of Apex Magazine


by on Jan 18, 2016 in Short Fiction | 1 comment

1,900 Words Today, I remembered soursops for 46 seconds. Well, I say ‘remembered,’ but it was more like I bought myself a few seconds of pain-filled pleasure, plugging into some dead guy’s memory file. Timed it just right, too. At the precise moment the Kitchen Butterfly show started,...

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The Open-Hearted

by on Jan 11, 2016 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

5,300 Words Palmer was standing at the counter in Chichen Itza Coffee at nine in the morning when he spotted the next big thing. He’d pushed open the blue-papered doors minutes ago to find himself the only customer in the place, which was unusual for Chichen even though it was tucked...

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Riding Atlas

by on Jan 8, 2016 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

5,000 Words They were naked, now, on a dirty mattress. “Neither of you have eaten or drunk anything for twenty-four hours?” Ryan asked, hauling equipment into the room: sloshing plastic buckets, packs of hypodermic needles, coils of tubing, straps. “And no drugs in your system? This is a...

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That Lucky Old Sun

by on Jan 6, 2016 in Short Fiction | 2 comments

5,200 Words “No school today,” Melanie’s mother said. “No playing outside. If you have to go into another room, you tell me so I can go with you. Can you do that?” Melanie nodded. “Does Christopher know?” “No, and you can’t tell him. This is a secret.” “Do the police know?” “Melanie, no...

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The Tomato Thief

by on Jan 5, 2016 in Short Fiction | 11 comments

14,000 Words Grandma Harken lived on the edge of town, in a house with its back to the desert. Some people said that she lived out there because she liked her privacy, and some said that it was because she did black magic in secret. Some said that she just didn’t care for other people,...

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by on Dec 28, 2015 in Short Fiction | 1 comment

5,300 Words Poe died of rabies, didn’t he? Died raving, at any rate. Here we are at end in a cheap motel along the lost highway. You’ve been walking for a long time and the time has come to rest. Your sandals are worn through to the bone. Your beard could host sparrows. Your eyes have...

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