Short Fiction

Short Fiction from issues of Apex Magazine

Haven, Kansas (Novel Excerpt)

by on Oct 17, 2017 in Short Fiction | 1 comment

Grab your copy today! 1 A found knife is bad luck; never pick it up. ERIN The tingling burn spread out from the center of Erin’s chest like slow lightning, so paralytic at first that she worried her body would forget how to breathe. But her body was breathing. Was moving. It just wasn’t...

Read More

So Sings the Siren

by on Oct 12, 2017 in Short Fiction | 2 comments

1,000 Words You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid. ― Franz Kafka   When the woman moved forward to order, the girl...

Read More

My Struggle

by on Oct 10, 2017 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

7,400 Words From beyond the ghetto walls come the peal of church bells; pure and clear, clear and pure the sound fills the night above the ghetto, and Shomer and the children stop and listen to it, spellbound in their captivity. Beyond the walls, ordinary citizens are on their way to...

Read More

Penelope Waits

by on Oct 3, 2017 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

4,000 Words Listen to the audio version of “Penelope Waits” Penelope waited for Odysseus. A whole house full of suitors, some of whom had to be pretty hot, and she gave none of them the time of day, weaving a shroud of all things, unweaving it at night. Meanwhile, Odysseus is...

Read More

While the Black Stars Burn

by on Sep 28, 2017 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

3,400 words Caroline tucked an unruly strand of coarse brown hair up under her pink knit cap, shrugged the strap of her black violin case back into place over her shoulder, and hurried up the music building stairs. Her skin felt both uncomfortably greasy and itched dryly under her heavy...

Read More

The Lightning Bird

by on Sep 26, 2017 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

4,700 Words Gable began turning into a bird at night two days after her mother died. “Gable is a boy’s name,” one of the grandmothers said and turned her teacup in gnarled hands. A dark wart hung from her left eye, and Gable thought of snatching it between her fingers and dropping it...

Read More