The Pirate's Daughter
There was a man who loved his daughter, and as such loving fathers do, wanted her to be most happy. The problem was a simple one, she wished to marry; and she being very beautiful would surely have no difficulty in finding a husband—no difficulty were it not for the fact that this loving father was a pirate, the captain of a black-flagged ship that
YOUNG BOY LEANING OVER BAKERY COUNTER   Maybe it would have helped if I had raised my hand some decades ago and told my story. “My name is Jeremy and I’m a sugar addict. I’ve come tonight seeking help.” But I didn’t. Nor did I look to psychoanalysis to help me. My father had raised us to distrust “those meddling brainpickers.” In fact, even before
For Mothers' Day
  “Hank.”  What’s wrong now? “Yeah.”  “Your sister.”              “Elena? What about her?” “She’s on the phone.”  “What does she want?”  "Ask her yourself.” Yeah, she’s angry.             Hank picked up the phone. “Hi.” “Did you call Mom?” Elena wasn’t one for small talk. Hank could imagine her in one of those gray business suits she seemed to alwa
Flashes From the Bye-way
They walk the shady paths of the park. He pushes the carriage, which holds their sleeping child. “Have you told your secretary we’re going on vacation?” “Don’t worry about it. Just let me run the office.” He remembers a phone call that must be made. Two weeks later, now alone, she understands. Certainly the secretary had known his plans.
THE MAN IN THE JAR by Salvatore Buttaci
How did the man become trapped inside a jar? Don't let the megaphone fool you. He can scream all he wants, but he will remain trapped, splashing in the briny depths. Something horrid this way comes...   My pet you say? From the door where you stand, perhaps you thought, Old Mr. Svenson has an odd-looking fish or a reptile splashing in that jar.  Th
An Antisocial Mind
Her hair is long—part down the middle, just passing her breasts. She looks back at me intensely, curious as to what I think of her. Her eyes are brown—beautiful and almond shaped. But there’s age beyond her years behind those eyes. Nose crooked. I remember she fell off of the tire swing in front of the lake house. Or was it the X amount of times sh
This ain’t gonna sit right with most of you out there, but I’m swearin’ it’s the truth. Every word of it. And I’m puttin’ the lingo down here ‘xactly like it happened.  First off, I’m about as simple as God breathed life inta. Growed up in a little Texan town in Bandera County. Hill Country. Little town called Pipe Creek, population less ’n two hun
For Your Holiday
Damn, how could I forget it? Zip is going to be furious. Everything she’s taken care of, and I forget the matzoth. And it’s almost sundown. Well, I’ll grab a box and hopefully they’ll have the express checkout working. Moses Cohen’s mind was racing, but that was nothing new. “Occupational hazard,” he always rationalized. “Lawyers do a lot of thinki
THE TELL-TALE HEART: Poe’s Other Scenario by Salvatore Buttaci
When I had finalized a thorough lavation, I withdrew a murderer’s hands from the rose-tinted water. The hideous deed was done, and now the chimes struck 4:00 A.M.  In haste I swaddled trembling fingers with the old man’s blue monogrammed bath towel. “V.E.,” it read, “Vincent Exeter,” who now in death could only signal to my wracked brain the appell