Anywhere But Here

Today: A story that you can get your chattering teeth into, NPL’ers. Rey Harris brings you an eerie tale of an Eden which isn’t– check out Anywhere But Here!

Snow – always falling upon this wasteland of things that once were, but would never be again. The sky stays a consistent gray throughout the day until the pitch black nightfall swallows it whole. Sometimes one can spot the sky in a swirl of hues – red and orange mixed with the gray, or silver and white mixed with the black, giving hope that somewhere out there a sun and a moon still exist. In reality, these colors just blend together to make the color of hopelessness and the presence of this nuclear winter never fails to disappoint.

The city of New Haven now lies in ruins…

Mrs. Harris

Third-Way Fiction

Good morning, readers! Our treat for this week will tickle your ‘awkward bone’. Check out this delightful little gem by author Alex Bernstein, titled Mrs. Harris.

Mrs. Harris? It’s Albert Levy again. Are you there? Okay. Okay. I’m trying to be polite and civil and responsible, here, but I’ve sort-of had it with this. As you know – and as I’ve mentioned several times – we appear to have very similar phone numbers; like just a digit off or something. And you’ve given out my phone number instead of yours to all of your clients or case files or whatever you call them.

Horror House

Third-Way Fiction

BOO! It’s time for Halloween Fun at NPL!

Today we’ve channeled a spirit from the realms beyond… Ghost Writer! Catch his wacky tale of horror in our Featured Stories section: Horror House.

“You want us to set up a haunted house?” Simon asked his live-in girlfriend, Darla.

“Sure. Why not?” she asked.

Darla affected a late-model goth look. Dyed-black hair. Black t-shirt with cut-off sleeves showing her voluminous tattoos. Black jeans and boots.

The tattoos were of striking colors. Purple and red.

Donnie Darko

Third-Way Fiction

Happy Weekend, NPL’ers!

Today’s feature is Donnie Darko… a story for cat-loving students of life by Kathleen Crane. ‘Donnie Darko’ is part of Kathleen’s upcoming short story collection titled Aloha From Detroit… more detail on that to come. In the meantime, enjoy Donnie!

If he could only find a comfortable position, then he might get some sleep. But he couldn’t even turn over, there simply wasn’t any room. If he moved to the right, he’d knock over his water, if he moved to the left, he’d spill what was left of his food. The blanket under him felt stiff and dirty and smelled like urine. He shifted irritably. And that ungodly howling and yowling, it never stopped. He felt as if he were going mad.

What had he done to deserve this?

Brian Moves Back

Third-Way Fiction

October is getting on, New Pop Lit fans, which makes it a perfect time to bring you something from the dark side…

Wred Fright gives us a flash-fiction tale today, filled with scary dead-ends and the remnants of dreams. Feast upon Brian Moves Back!

After college, Brian moved back to his shitty hometown.
Slept in his shitty old bed in his parents’ shitty old house.
His parents got upset every time Brian called their town “shitty”.

Foreign Language

Third-Way Fiction

We’ve something a little different for you today, New Pop Lit fans. With Foreign Language, our writer Franz Pantaleon brings you a glimpse of unrequited love; a glimpse that suggests a larger story around it. Franz writes from the Philippines.

You’ve never really experienced heartbreak until you’re forced to watch a foreign romantic-drama alone.

I remember the seat beside me being empty, and all I had in my hand was an unused ticket for the same screening. She didn’t show up at the place we had agreed to meet and I decided against making contact with her to ask if she was still coming. So I went into the cinema alone thinking it would have been a waste of perfectly good tickets.

Kindergarten (1962)

Third-Way Fiction

Good morning, Pop Fans!

Today’s story is a bittersweet look at growing up by our author Dan Nielsen, who writes from the shores of the great Lake Michigan: Kindergarten (1962).

It was the first day of school. As the final bell neared, Mrs. Sawyer divided the class into those with rides and those walking home. On the chalkboard, she’d drawn a map of the neighborhood with street names and familiar landmarks.

Each walking child used a pointer to show their route home, and at each intersection recited the rules for safely crossing a street. Those living closest to each other were put into buddy groups. Billy and Dave and Sharon made up one such group.

Catch Dan’s work, as well as previously featured stories, on our Featured Stories page! Enjoy!

** ALSO check out Karl’s take on the weirdness behind The Guardian’s and The New York Times Book Review’s simultaneous plugs for esteemed establishment writer Hilary Mantel @ NewPopLitInteractive!**

Continue reading →

The Janitor

Third-Way Fiction

Happy Sunday, New Pop Lit’ers!

We’ve got a deliciously wicked story for you today by our featured author Ian Lahey: The Janitor.

Who hasn’t heard about superheroes with wacky, theatrical powers? Powers that by their very eccentricity save the good guys from impossible situations. What if the world was smothered in superheroes, but your only superpower was smarts…

Ever heard of the proverbial ‘last straw’? The one that broke the camel’s back? Well, it’s bullshit. A straw can’t break a camel’s back; all the straws break it. They’re equally responsible. All of them.

Check out Ian’s previous story, Matt Murphy Private Eye, or his interview.

The Unshakable Kayfabe of Tommy Rage

Third-Way Fiction

Karl and I are pleased to give New Pop Lit readers a special story today: The Unshakable Kayfabe of Tommy Rage, by Alaska-based writer Andrea Gregovich.

Ms Gregovich’s sharp story about amateur-wrestling fandom will brighten your Post-Labor-Day week and inject a healthy dose of pop lit into your Wednesday. Enjoy!

That was the night the heat war between Danny and Sergeant Smackdown culminated in a knockout barb from Smackdown. As Danny stood at the base of the ring, barking wicked old school chants through his hands in the form of a megaphone, Smackdown issued his knockout barb: “I should buy you a saddle for Christmas so you can ride my dick.” The poetics of the thing rendered us all speechless, blinking and mouths agape for a moment on the white plastic patio chairs as Smackdown stood in the ring in his tattered camo pants, basking in the yellowish glow of the crappy spotlights they had rigged up in there and the brilliance of the thing he’d said against the background of his death metal entrance music.