|ioioioioioi by Thanos Kalamidas|
20 July 2006
“Dear mother and father,” no, that not correct. “My dear mother and father,” Enter. He remembered when he used to write a letter, how many centuries was that before? He would write t
|Neurotic Narcissus by Ted|
20 July 2006
It was nice sharing the experience of talking to you. Although sometimes it did feel awkward, I'll admit, like the rhythm was not in line, like out-of-wacked pistons, or like the divesting oneself of l
|And I screamed…. by Thanos Kalamidas|
20 July 2006
When I first saw the room I was shocked. It was a small dark room without any window, just some kind of a plastic curtain over the sink which, when I pulled, showed me a brick wall. I turned the lights off
|Missing by Mark Hayton|
03 September 2006
“Aaaaarrggghhh!!” a war cry, quickly followed by the thump of hand on plastic. The alarm clock silences. This is the Dawn of Man. I lift up my head open my bleary eyes and cough deeply. My ears stop ringing and I’m left wit
|Pins and Needles by Andrew Farley|
22 October 2006
Even before I opened my eyes, I could the feel the warm midday sun splashed across my face. As the room came into focus and my eyes adjusted to the light, a familiar sense of disappointment washed over me. I don’t dream very often you see, due to my cond
|Victims by Bohdan Yuri|
01 January 2007
Joe gave the cabby, Boris, a fifty. Keep the change, he motioned with his hand, then got out and stared at the space he\'d occupied.
|Missing by Juliette Roques|
18 February 2007
Yes, I remember her. Hayley her name was. Like the comet that brought bad luck. I always thought it sounded like a cruel joke but she liked it because it was the only time her father had noticed her.
|Fishing Now by Jan Sand|
18 February 2007
There is an old story about a well-to-do executive who was extremely successful. He had attained his position and his very adequate income by thinking very hard and working very hard and being very lucky.
|Thoughts on a Victorian-themed postcard by Juliette Roques|
20 March 2007
She wondered if that was how White people lived. All she had to go by was a picture of two little white girls. They wore dresses of colours but still there was white, as if they wanted to compress the colour, keep it all in.
|The Missed Season by Lei Sorvisto|
03 April 2007
Perhaps I am being sentimental or, then again, maybe I am just plain old-fashioned. Still, I rarely use email. I have always felt that emailing is \'quickly come, quickly go\'. Within a span of a few minutes, and totally unprepared for, \"You have three n
|The Refrigerator Caper by Jan Sand|
21 May 2007
Like many men living alone I am somewhat neglectful in the matter of housework. I have a hunch that the male mind tends more towards easy generalities and wanders away from the precise and intense disciplines required for dusting...
|Folsom Prison Blues, Caught Like Sapphires Out of Season by Linda Lane|
04 June 2007
The educated batman with his creamy hedgerow and certain inconsistent flocks of apple Jews circumvented the elephants bathroom corridor from time to time with a ceaseless tableau of statuary gold, like angel-hair heartaches and bellbottomed weather, one l
|The Garden, the gardener and me by Matt Williamson|
13 August 2007
I followed the path along the twisting way. Grasses and moss grew up between the loose pebbles on the path, people do not use this path anymore and slowly nature was recapturing lost ground. I was looking for the gardener, the caretaker of the garden.
|Twilight by Matt Williamson|
19 August 2007
We live within the Twilight. We have been here longer than you, but you gave us form, shaped us with your fantasies and wishes, with your pleas and desires and fears. We are as old as the wind and rain, as old as the mountains and trees.
|Mosaic by Matt Williamson|
27 August 2007
The winds were eating away at the remaining moisture in the earth. Sunshine was brilliant and made the days seem to sparkle. The People would need to dance soon to ask for more rain, to offer more tobacco and sing throughout the night for the Cloud People
|From Gettysburg to Baghdad by Artie Knapp|
18 September 2007
\"From Gettysburg to Baghdad\" is the first script format fiction that has been contributed to Ovi and it is certainly an impressive first.
|Take a Shot by Artie Knapp|
12 September 2007
Jim Stebbins has received a sign, a sign that he hears tell him he\'s the luckiest man on Casino Street. When the fates tell you to take a shot, you have to be willing to wager it all...
|Two Crows for an Empty Feeling by Artie Knapp|
30 September 2007
Losing someone you love is never easy. It is especially tough to visit the gravesite of a loved one for the first time. It\'s hard to believe the living breathing person you loved, and still love, is lying under the ground.
|Mama Letwina by Cosmas Mairosi|
18 October 2007
She had a frown on her face. Perhaps it was the burden she carried, but in her heart she carried the heaviest of all burdens. Her face was tired with age, that one could clearly discern the cruel marks of time...
|Voice in the Gutters by Cosmas Mairosi|
22 October 2007
It was an eerie dawn, when owls hooted for daybreak and cockcrows crooned for sunshine. Mazvi, alone in an out of the way gutter, wallowed amid mounds of urban waste, the stink from the city\'s garbage harassing her bowels.
|12 - 17 by Robert Spalding|
20 October 2007
His name had been Toby Watson, a nice old man by all accounts. His neighbours told us he was a man of routine, walking down to the village to get a newspaper every morning, watering his garden every other day.
| Bipper and Wick by Artie Knapp|
01 December 2007
24 days to go: On the night before Christmas, a young bear decides to leave his den in search of adventure. Along the way he encounters a little dog who feels forsaken by his family!
|The Trial of Jyoti: Part 1 by Matt Williamson|
11 November 2007
He sat there, watching the judge for what seemed like an eternity. He could feel the minutes slipping away, minutes that would never come back again. The defender sat beside him on her haunches, perfectly still, eyes closed; serene.
|Jangano by Cosmas Mairosi|
13 November 2007
Death waited for him in his path. Death in a mass of a coiled black mamba. The serpent reared its head and struck him, again and again.
|No More Brotherhood by Kenny Adejare|
17 December 2007
\"One who polishes other people\'s shoes at one\'s risk will have oneself to blame.\" The struggle of a man begins at birth.
|The Trauma of a Sinister by Kenny Adejare|
26 December 2007
Many dreams have gone to the world of the silent ones in the hands of a sadist who marred the lives of others. It is quite known that a man who jeopardizes other people\'s dreams will surely face the nemesis before he dies.
|It's better than in the army by Alexander Mikhaylov|
08 February 2008
They brought me to psychiatric clinic around five or six in the evening. It was the middle of February and it was dark and snowy outside. The snow lay in great heaps and its shiny, uneven surface was barely disturbed by footprints.
|The Taciturn Parrot by Adam Graupe|
18 February 2008
I had two older twin brothers named Alan and Midas who were taciturn Swedes and difficult at best to talk to. Alan married a woman named Zelda who was passionate and outspoken.
|The Internet Freedom Protection Agency by Adam Graupe|
24 February 2008
Oren was ecstatic the day his first short story was published by an online magazine called \'Twilight Times\'. The website also published his biography and email address.
|The First Bite by Asa Butcher|
13 March 2008
The studio lights flooded the set with artificial light and bleached out any distinguishing features of the crew or the watching audience... the studio lights were also slowly cooking the dog faeces that awaited me on the plate.
|Bloode's Beastly Beckoning by Matt Williamson|
21 April 2008
The good Mr. Bloode bounded into his bakery, took out a clean apron, and wiped his hands upon a crisp white cloth.
|Dreams and Tears by Matt Williamson|
25 July 2008
Last night I had a dream that shook me...
|Battlefield Demons by Matt Williamson|
16 August 2008
The sounds of the jungle echo out across this tiny cleared valley as three warriors inch their way through the tall grass.
|Alligator Alley by Artie Knapp|
05 September 2008
Alligator Alley - On a summer evening in 1973, a mysterious alligator drops by to participate in the Annual Belvar Bowling Championship.
|The Silence by Adam Graupe|
11 September 2008
Billy drove his BMW M5 with his knees down rain-slicked Interstate 94. He held his cell phone with his right hand and a Starbucks Venti Latte with his let hand. \"I need your thumbs up on firing Sly,\" he said into the phone.
|Outer Limits Immigrants by Leah Sellers|
12 September 2008
What if they\'re like the Folks from Mexico and Everywhere else on Earth. What if They\'re just lookin\' for a place of better Opportunities like We have here in America? What if They\'re Immigrants? Immigrants from the Outer Limits?
|A night out in Turku by Alexander Mikhaylov|
14 September 2008
Al lit a roll-up and spat fragments of loose tobacco on the palm of his hand.
|A confession by Thanos Kalamidas|
26 September 2008
I, Jeremiah Soul, feeling that my life leads to an end and with the little power remaining in the cells of my brain I decided to write what really happened the afternoon on the 20th of May.
|The Gun or the Rose, which do you choose? by Joseph Ocen|
19 October 2008
\"Doctor, I still can\'t feel my legs. Tell me the truth, will I be able to walk again?\" I asked. The doctor looked me in the eye for a time as though debating whether he should tell the bad news.
|Mother by Alexander Mikhaylov|
26 November 2008
I returned home, switched the player on, fell on a chair and closed my eyes. It turned out to be one Hell of a day and I felt exhausted.
|You must be modern by Alexander Mikhaylov|
01 February 2009
Big Ulle was lingering in front of a cave, shifting from one foot to another, sighing and scratching his large head in such a manner that hinted on natural indecisiveness, which was, actually, the case.
|Harry Potter & Six Pack Joe by Alexander Mikhaylov|
13 February 2009
Here\'s a free (unabridged) version of the Harry Potter movie (Philosopher\'s Stone), as described by \'Six Pack Joe\' to his neighbour.
|Downsized and Drunk by Adam Graupe|
15 March 2009
Riiiiiiinnnnnnnggggggggg! Joe, a 500-pound Brown Bear, groaned as he reached over and slammed a paw down on his alarm clock.
|A Whore Called the American Dream by Adam Graupe|
07 May 2009
Ernie and Dodge were two Mountain Gorillas sitting in Bukowski\'s Tavern. Ernie said, \"We can provide you with a 20 percent discount over what Fred\'s Sanitation offers you.\"
|Where's Winston? by Artie Knapp|
02 June 2009
The cold wind blew past the geese with the weight of a freight train and the sting of a hundred bumble bees. It was a strong reminder of why they were migrating south for the winter.
|Sprinting Spencer Still Wants to Run by Artie Knapp|
04 July 2009
It was the Fourth of July and most folks were in town gearing up for fireworks, barbecues and the annual holiday parade. But not me! My thoughts laid elsewhere; I was thinking about Sprinting Spencer.
|The Sweet Smelling Skunk by Artie Knapp|
27 August 2009
Mrs. Donnelly pushed the heads of lettuce to the side and was surprised to find a little skunk crying his heart out. It was such a sad sight that Mrs. Donnelly ignored the danger of getting sprayed by the little skunk.
|Bar Fight by Adam Graupe|
06 September 2009
Leroy trotted down the creaking wooden stairs and saddled up to a stool in the bar. His hands and joints ached. He had been driving semi for the past 12 hours and had fantasized about this coming drink.
|The Rooster That Wouldn't Crow by Artie Knapp|
09 September 2009
It was the driest summer on record, and all the crops were wilting away. Every farmer in the region was reeling from their losses. Desperate to change his fortunes, Peter Harpole decided to try his luck with poultry farming.
|Getting to Know Ronnie: A Story About Autism by Artie Knapp|
13 September 2009
The Flickering-lights gleamed by the playground pavement. They fascinated young Ronnie McAllister who headed in their direction. But then the flickering-lights abruptly stopped! So, Ronnie did too. But as quickly as the lights had faded, they reappeared,
|The Wasp and the Canary by Artie Knapp|
06 October 2009
Hello, Dexter here. I\'m just your average ordinary neighborhood wasp. Before you go swatting me though, I think you should know that like everyone else, I too have a story to tell. At least afford me the opportunity to get something off my wings before y
|The Lazy Loppin Goat by Artie Knapp|
01 November 2009
The grass was tall - very, very, tall - but it shouldn\'t have been. Alfred Lambert had the worst luck with lawnmowers, you see, and no matter how many new lawnmowers Alfred bought none ever worked for him. Alfred\'s luck w
|No More Car Wash Blues by Artie Knapp|
21 November 2009
\"Ethan, I don\'t know how much longer I can do this. My feet really hurt.\" \"Yeah, so do mine, Sammy. Maybe we should just live at the zoo like Uncle Carl. He gets fed well and just relaxes all day,\" said Ethan. \"When I said I don\'t know how
|There's a Crocodile in Our Pickle Jar by Artie Knapp|
09 December 2009
\"Alex, your brother ate everything on his plate. Why don\'t you be a good boy too and eat your dinner?\"
\"But I\'m not hungry,\" said Alex.
|The Shell Shocked Turtle by Artie Knapp|
07 January 2010
\"Owen, you\'ve got to come out so we can get a move on!\" Even though Owen knew his sister was right, he was still too scared to come out of his shell.
|The small handprint of a saint by Abigail George|
24 February 2010
A thousand African suns blazing and burning brightly could not wish the first memory I had of you; of us away. The three of us were playing \"doctor\". Even then and now when I think of you, my brother my heart is inspired when I think of you t
|Bessie Head by Abigail George|
02 March 2010
She is a poet and a writer. The English language - words, books, reading poets and other writers and journalists - holds, mesmerizes and transfixes her. She is daily consumed by nighttime terrors that give rise to depression, oftentimes writer\'s bl
|Out of the picture by Abigail George|
26 March 2010
She asked her clients to call her Angel. The truth was that she preferred it that way. It made it easier somehow. It gave her a level of confidence and of discretion. It was important to her. It gave her a deep and innate sense of freedom and a sense of c
|The Spider by Adam Graupe|
26 April 2010
She stood at the bar with lots of leg and by lots of leg I mean she had eight legs. They were long, black, and perfect. She wore a short yellow skirt that showed off all that stocking-covered leg, and she blew a ring of smoke from her cigarette and said
|A German Love Story by Abigail George|
16 May 2010
There is always hope. From the time I was born my mother and I were rivals, friends, best friends, enemies, competing for the attention, the affection of my father. When I was very little I thought I would never be happy or experience any real attention,
|If Epictetus Were Alive Today by Adam Graupe|
28 May 2010
DEAR EPICTETUS: \"Ethan\" and I have been married 36 years. He\'s a good and caring husband, but he has a habit that irritates me no end. He opens our mail -- whether it\'s addressed to him or not.
I have nothing to hide and I always show or mention what
|If Epictetus Were Alive Today by Adam Graupe|
05 June 2010
DEAR EPICTETUS: I\'m an \"A\" student, but my boyfriend, \"Rory,\" has a difficult time in school, so he often comes over for help. We work at the computer in the room my sister and I share so she listens to everything we discuss. She says we are cheating
|Still in love by Abigail George|
16 August 2010
Kenny George had been dead for nearly a year. I, Molly was still in the grieving process. I was known as \'the widow\' wherever I went. Before his untimely death our neighbours and friends since we had moved in next door to them were a delightful couple c
|My father, the writer by Abigail George|
19 August 2010
Suddenly there is this uncontrollable shift; this mechanism in my brain, invincible and everything that came before, stability, emotional stability, normality and coherency is lost.
|Baby doll by Abigail George|
24 August 2010
The body is always beautiful when it seriously expresses any form of athleticism or touch, the pure body of soul; when it dismisses laziness or the heat with an invincible push of a button from daydream to a glimmering focus that shifts into view. It is m
|The Salvation Army by Abigail George|
04 September 2010
Port Elizabeth compared to Johannesburg was a strange, uninviting place. The memory of the loveliness of growing up in a city by the sea, the sun, the beach, the surf, where you can smell and almost taste the sea salt in the air. In Port Elizabeth the blu
|When bad mothers happen by Abigail George|
08 September 2010
Sometimes we will watch television together. She will sit like a crouched tiger ready to spring like a mousetrap, her frame hidden by a thick blanket, her legs resting on a stool, the dog next to her where she cuddles him and feeds him titbits off her sup
|Sunny's game by Abigail George|
12 September 2010
One day men will buy Sunny drinks, exotic cocktails with fruit on the rim of the glass, a slice of strawberry as red as her lips or a kiwi fruit imported from a far off country finished off, decorated with an umbrella when she reaches a certain age in clu
|Larkin Wyley's paleontology adventure by Artie Knapp|
09 September 2010
BEFORE THE SUN had even broke across the horizon, young Larkin Wyley was anxious to start his day. Larkin was confident he was going to make a paleontology discovery so big and so grand, that it would put his name in the Kid\'s Hall of Fam
|Breakfast at Tiffany's by Abigail George|
18 September 2010
My mother puts henna on her hair and massages potions and lotions into her skin, the fine lines around her mouth and her eyes. She looks young for her age. She\'s not just attractive; she\'s beautiful. Then she takes curlers and rolls her hair in until sh
|Nine by Abigail George|
24 September 2010
So, there\'re you standing once again wearing a painted smile, a cowboy hat standing next to your wagon next to daddy; stroking the dog with the wet eyes velvety ears. It still pains me to try and find you, YOU and somewhere there in every picture taken o
|Yellow hair by Abigail George|
22 October 2010
It feels like winter in September and the sky are just supposed to be pieces of blue sky; instead they\'re slate grey with the beckoning, darkening rain clouds not yet completely rinsed out of them. My sister and I do not have a perfect relationship
|A wish from above by Artie Knapp|
05 December 2010
The little angel felt happy, as a young girl held her in the palm of her hand. But the moment she let go the little angel felt quite sad. \"Please come back,\" pleaded the little angel. But the young girl didn\'t hear her.
|All about my mother by Abigail George|
09 December 2010
Nobody talks about the abuse or the familiar hands that we suffered it from now that we\'re older. When we were going through it, it was like living in a war that left us nowhere to run to when we were growing up. The abuse didn\'t have a voice or give us
|Little Christmas Tree Story by Alexander Mikhaylov|
16 December 2010
It was well after eleven p.m., when I entered the huge apartment building and started ascending its stinking stairs, sweating and breathing laboriously. My wife and I rented a small studio on the sixth floor: it was nice enough place but the hike up to it
|Summer by Abigail George|
16 January 2011
Killed. Killed. Killed. Killed. Killed. They were two families burnt to death with all their worldly possessions. Spoons and bowls in a nomadic kitchen fitted with the utensils that befitted a rural village. Here in a corner is a black, cooking pot for po