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Short Stories

Lost In Space...Beagle 2 by Harvey Kennett The true story of Beagle 2 ? Apologies to Yanks in general... [1,105 words]
The Happy Housewife by April Griffin A short but powerfull tale of a battered woman. [980 words]
Mind's Shadow by J Shartzer A teenager is engrossed in the search for the reason of his girlfriend's sudden suicide. [8,115 words]
Melancholy Polly by J Shartzer A young woman with a bizzare history is deeply affected by her mother's death. [1,579 words]
Your Little God Is Pooh And Creepy Too by Xoggoth Only the innocent find salvation. In the run up to the revelation the ki... [1,442 words]
The Three Rotten Sisters by Christopher W Sorenson A funny short story about three snoody women who marry three fine gentlemen. In the e... [789 words]
The Markings Of An Angle by Narinder Bhambra A short story. [1,398 words]
The Fly And... by Xoggoth That Geoff Goldblum had it easy! One fly?? I should have been so lucky! [483 words]
The Difference-1 by Sukesh Srivastava An emotional story of sacrifices made for each other in the family. [4,595 words]
The Diary Of Mystery by Hazli Ghazali Collection of Hazli's short stories under the topic of mystery, a lot to think and discove... [3,982 words]
The Come Back by Bryan Meckley About a successful overdose. [2,157 words]
Ripple Effect by E Rocco Caldwell A scientist has discovered time travel or maybe his own descent into insanity. [838 words]
Providing For Sarah by Xoggoth A desolate man finds comfort in an imaginary (?) companion. But who will care for her when ... [883 words]
Pakistani Feast by Jerry Pat Bolton A man, alone in the jungles of Pakistani, become surrounded by a pride of tigers. [1,681 words]
Night Ride by P J Lawton A tired young man accepts a ride from a mysterious stranger. [1,463 words]
My Eternal Triangle by Erasmus Flynt - [710 words]
Monica's Pie by Paul B Kramer Reklon Harponip, a Turkish lad on his own in America, identifies with Monica Lewinsky's plight as ... [3,062 words]
Man Skin by Harvey Kennett When you sleep, what happens to your dreams ? [776 words]
Hell Is A Personal Place by Erasmus Flynt Each of us has a personal idea of Hell! [1,043 words]
Goodnight Sweet Kevin by Harvey Kennett It concerns me that we, as a species, follow trends and "buzzwords", and anyone who dares... [603 words]
God's Trainees by Xoggoth Him upstairs is thinking of retiring, all he needs to do is train up some suitable replacements.... [1,570 words]
Fury Of Steele by Robert E Tadlock The drug lords of Hong Kong are trying to take over L.A. But Hong Kong itself will feel the fury... [2,686 words]
Free Road by Deon Coetzee The possibility that life may be ended with a happy parting of one's shadow, ie. suicide, that is not... [194 words]
Food For Thought by P J Lawton Ever wonder where the food of the future will come from? [973 words]
Do You Remember Now? by E Daugherty - [703 words]
Did You Hear The One About The Three Icelandic Bishops by Gypsey Teague When you invite a guest into your home, be prepared for ... [493 words]
Death Walk by P J Lawton A space ship crashes on a lonely planet leaving the crew a long walk to safety. [1,147 words]
Changing To Go Out by Xoggoth In the aftermath of the genetic bomb, a simple night at the pictures with the missus is no e... [444 words]
Business Card by E Rocco Caldwell Madness can be in a simple telephone call. [723 words]
Back To The Garden by Xoggoth Depressing the extent to which everything is being dumbed down these days. Poor state educat... [527 words]
A Conversation With God by Kevin Myrick Basically, its a short story with sort of a twisted view on the whole walking with god ... [1,230 words]
The Music I Held by E Daugherty - [802 words]
Licorice Tea by Shelley J Alongi This is a story I havent' worked into my novel yet; it's how Rachel makes a decision to fall in lo... [3,590 words]
Victim by Gypsey Teague By the full of the moon, and the cloak of the night. There are some things that are better Kept in the l... [1,372 words]
Twisted Figures by Rae Just wrote it down as it came to mind.. no sense or anything :) [294 words]
Things To Do Before I Die by Gypsey Teague Everyone makes lists. Some mean more than others. [1,045 words]
The Waitress Fom Hell by Richard Koss The story of a patron's ongoing feud with an over-the-hill waitress. [750 words]
The Soldier by Solo A darkly lyrical tale of an old soldier seperated from his men behind enemy lines who takes on a mi... [8,019 words]
The Siege Of Tar Ebon by Dayne Edmondson This is a story of human kind's greatest hour of need. [2,501 words]
The Man I Call My Dad by Justin M Chapman A story about my dad that I wrote for a class. It tells about him. [979 words]
The Gatekeeper Of The Heaven by Partha Pratim Majumder Theme : Hypothetically, the concept of God,heaven etc. are all created by and pr... [2,419 words]
The Divine Inside Of Thoughts by Elroy Jamoke Lloyd Auto-bio piece... [4,442 words]
The Clearing by E Rocco Caldwell A simple ghost story that happens to be true. [783 words]
Spirits Revolt by Jack Roland Butter When Donna moves to her new Californian house she can't believe her luck. Soon she discovers tha... [1,079 words]
Simon Says: The Case Of The Singing Lady Blues by P J Lawton A hard-boiled private detective makes a fatal mistake. He can't ... [3,757 words]
Simon Says: Case Of Vengeance By The Letter by P J Lawton A hard-boiled private detective's past comes back to haunt him. [3,972 words]
Simon Says: Case Of The Deadly Diamond Dupe by P J Lawton A hard-boiled private detective reluctantly gets involved in a terr... [3,813 words]
Shadow Cat by John Caruso On a cold winter day a feral kitten wandered out of the wooded paradise surrounding our home in west... [22,470 words]
Roundabout Love by Kevin Myrick The story of two people who shouldn't be able to fall in love, but came together. [1,187 words]
Pyscho Librarian by Sarah Beresh About a librarian who was a Physco killer and told all her lil library kids about her past the... [1,849 words]
Not Much Like Christmas by Stephanie A Erickson A short story based on the song "Christmas By The Phone" by Good Charlotte. Also based ... [2,616 words]
Neighbors by Shelley J Alongi Aviation story. This story takes place before Andrew meets Anne in his spactacular early morning lan... [1,523 words]
Mom's Color Code by Partha Pratim Majumder Relationship between mother and son. The very intricate relationship that needs no description... [1,287 words]
Managing by Shelley J Alongi Twenty years after marriage, and despite life, Anne and Andrew still manage to hold everything togethe... [2,329 words]
Last Day by Shelley J Alongi Aviation Story 18. Anne and Andrew, a sinus headache, troublesome passengers, a frantic boss, and the ... [2,335 words]
Landing Part Two by Shelley J Alongi Aviation story. Relationship conflict. Melanie talks to Laura about Jeff. [1,765 words]
Landing Part Three by Shelley J Alongi Origins of the accident. Pleasant flight. [1,176 words]
Landing Part One by Shelley J Alongi Anaviation story. A pilot is caught between a rock and a hard place, literally, leading to a ... [1,637 words]
Landing Part Four by Shelley J Alongi Melanie is afraid. [1,480 words]
Landing Part Five by Shelley J Alongi Jeff's dream. [1,033 words]
Jolly John's Last Laugh by Partha Pratim Majumder In 1963 , A young Englishman bought an old Bunglow at the foothills of Himalayas near ... [2,437 words]
Is It Real Or Is It Memorex? by D G Williford You tell me... [82 words]
Billy And Jason by Ashley A Selsing Jason meets a new kid, Billy, who steals his things. At first they are enemies, but they then ... [1,382 words]
Back Page News by E Rocco Caldwell The thoughts of a dying US soldier on the road to baghdad. [805 words]
Attack Of The Sans by Randy Johnson A Space Warrior named Fland travels to a planet called Narburg and battles intelligent Slug ... [3,022 words]
An Encounter With Evil by P J Lawton A young man's search for the bizarre gets him a little more than he bargined for. [1,761 words]
A Season For Figs by Geraldine Winters A short story. [3,255 words]
A Hike by Jennifer Winter A short story. [875 words]
A Friend

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A Friend
I was like clay, so soft and yellow. I listened and followed because I didn't know that I could talk and lead. This is one of those times.
[917 words]
Peter Izdebski
I'd love to describe myself however nothing comes to mind. Actaully, as a matter of fact, too much comes to mind. Have you ever had a box of puzzle pieces and spilled them on the table only to begin with the corners? I am that which is in the center. The only problem is that I haven't even assembled my corners yet.
[October 2002]
The Thinker (Poetry) - [118 words]
The Way I Am (Non-Fiction) The title of my story is The Way I Am. It's something I sat down and wrote over a few days. I took it out of my dreams. The scenarios and situations are all dreams. It's a glimpse into what makes ... [4,592 words]
They Stole It From Me (Short Stories) A moment stolen; one which could have answered all that I needed to know; a moment which having could have changed the way I am now. A regret which never will be settled until the moment comes agai... [960 words] [Mind]
A Friend
Peter Izdebski

I don't remember what time I woke but the air was still crisp and cold when I made my way to school. My rout was routine and safe. I walked on sidewalks and crosswalks and was stared down by neighbours out having their first mind-calming cigarettes of the day. Their tired eyes set in greasy and red faces moved like a compass set on a ships deck, seeking the way but unable to go unless allowed, unless taken. I suppose the morning brought with itself troubles one could have smoked away but I am sure their thoughts were wrestling with more than the beginning of a new day. I have absolutely no recolection of what I could have been thinking that morning. Could it have been something about the war games I used to play? Games where we would launch small crab-apples from long sharpened sticks trying to kill each other or when we'd burn plasting and admire how it dripped and buzzed through the air? The mind I see now in the head of the boy then is empty. I would trully not be surprised if someone were to tell me now that children don't have thoughts. I essence that is all I was, a boy walking to school as an egg shell making its way to a pan, empty.

 School was a small red building oposite a big green park. Heavy metal gates barred the windows from rocks which miracilously took flight with intent to disturb peace in the classroom. But the design flaw was serious as most windows were broken from the inside by lost tempers and passionate outburst of sorrow which skewed our view of the outside, inserting long cracks in our line of sight of the big green park and the safe sidewalks and crosswalks. But there was Bartek.
I do not propose this fact as a 'however' or a 'yet' but as a 'but'. What ever happened or whatever did not there was always him and I trusted he would always be there.

I don't remember how we came to talk and I suppose I don't remember what we talked about, but that has no significance. Except Iza. When reces came I was out there by his side walking through the halls of Num.18. An unatural arch in my back and my chin superbly high mirrored my elation. If I was one man among all animals, I'd walk the same.

"Peter, come here and see."
"What is it?" I asked, feeling the curiosity hasten my steps.
"Iza. That's the girl I told you I kissed." he said with an air of nobility.
"Let me see... She is beautifull." Said I, nodding my head and my eyes too. Short pings of thought ran through my mind posing questions, not in words but in pictures. What is beauty? Who is she? "Can I kiss her too?" I asked, surely if Bartek kissed her first he'd have some property rights. "Sure, of course you can" was what I heard, and I was happy. "Come to the library," he called, "I need to show you something."

I followed him to the library, a brown room sachurated with the smell of glue and old book bindings. It greated us with the artifically warm feel of low wattage bulbs and a thick taste of stale air. The librarian was an older woman with a hooked nose and long brown hair tied back so tight you could almost see it hanging on to her scalp for dear life. Her desk was located under a solitary window through which the sun came and pierced a long, almost tangible bar of light through the dust suspended in the room. I saw the air was still despite the people who moved in the library. They were empty people; carcasses void of emotion for which the air had no need to stir. High above the ground on the wall oposite the window in the room hung a painting. Its brown frame caught people's eyes first before they conscieously moved their eyes to the portrait within its strong hold.

It was a portrait of a young girl with brown hair and grey eyes. She was painted sad, sitting on a chair with her hands crossed on her lap, dressed in a fancy white lace dress embroidered with beads of red and green. Her eyes were too oval and her lips too wide. A green broach was pinned to her breast and her lips were obviously done up like a woman's are, without the delicate nuanse of sexual intent. Either the artist's technique was flawed or suberb, I couldn't decide if the discolorations on her face were intentional or not. She was a hideous thing to look at.

"Isn't she beautiful?" asked Bartek not taking his eyes off her. "She looks just like Iza." And he was right. There was no mistaking the similarity between the two girls although the one in the portrait was sad and morphed. I blinked. A split second out of my life and much less out of the history of the universe but what happened in that shred of time was frightful. The girl in the picture was now beautiful to me. Her unproportioned head was complimented by her eyes, and her lips were like those of Iza; lips I wanted to kiss. I turned to Bartek then placed my gaze on the portrait and uttered in a soft, yellow voice, "It is a great painting." And I believed it.



"Fix your spelling and grammatical errors and your story will be stronger. I'm glad to see more Polish writers publishing on the web. It's great that you used the original Polish names like Bartek and Iza in your story, without "Americanizing" them. I liked the story, and I agree with you that the way you view people and things depends on your emotions. " -- Randy Cebulski, Chicago, IL, USA.


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© 2004 Peter Izdebski
January 2004

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