Tag Archives: Ficta Mystica

“Good Enough For Police Work” as by Art Wester

  “Good Enough For Police Work” as by Art Wester A woman walked into a chaotic police squad room late in the afternoon.  She stood waiting until someone, it happened to be a homicide detective, noticed her.  She was then … Continue reading

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Wynter’s Tower, A Developing Story

Having gathered at the gazebo on Wynter’s front lawn, we followed our host near dusk into his manor house, pausing to admire the grand staircase and balcony, diverting briefly to explore the library, and finally reaching the tower’s round ground-floor … Continue reading

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Heart Eater: How I Got Here

I’m a successful writer. It’s the publishers failing me. That sounds like an ironic joke but consider: I’ve been a writer for 48 years, submitting (at first sporadically, I admit), for 40 years, and publishing for 24 years. My first … Continue reading

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The Ocean At the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman, A Review

The Ocean at the End of the Lane Neil Gaiman William Morrow, 2013, 178pp hc, First Edition ISBN: 973 0 06 225565 5 $25.99 (a bargain at twice the price) A Review by Gene Stewart Our narrator at the start … Continue reading

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Excerpt from a novel in progress

They sat outside on a terrace at a café table covered by white linen drinking Valpolicella as a sunny day waned. A light breeze meandered southwest along the river valley, giving their shade, provided by a trio of linden trees, … Continue reading

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Rusting Lock

I am not, cannot be Shiny child remembered, Child smarter, faster, sharper. I am what is left. Not dregs, not residue; More uneroded stone, Exposed core, A scrimshaw ego. Child is gone but lingers. I am lingering but gone. ///  … Continue reading

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Truncated Sparrow

Truncated Sparrow (Reflection on seeing a sparrow crushed by a tire.) Use me. Abuse me. Never try to lose me. I know you will excuse me If I go too far. I am everywhere and nowhere; I am my love’s … Continue reading

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Nightmare Days on Autumn’s Cusp: A Miscellany

There are days when love is not enough, when you need justice, too.  Those are the hopeless days when it’s best to hole up in solitude so you don’t hurt or kill anyone you might later regret having hurt or … Continue reading

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Started Writing Fiction At Age Eight

At age 16 I sent my very first submission to Esquire. It elicited a call-back from a sub-editor, and a two-page single-spaced response from Rust Hills, the editor, who explained that he wanted to publish it but simply could not … Continue reading

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Trick

Jim held up a costume based on the monster from the latest hit horror movie and asked, “How about this one?” Pete sneered instantly, rubbing a hand over his crewcut.  “You crazy?  Everyone’s gonna be that this year.” “Yeah,” Oliver … Continue reading

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