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Ding-Fiction by JD Baker
The Boy With the Straw Hat-Fiction by Steve Carr
Vickie's Revenge-Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
The Confession-Fiction by Joan Leotta
My Affair-Fiction by Elena Smith
Sulfur-Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
The Treehouse-Fiction by Andrew Davie
The Biggest Fans-Fiction by John J. Dillon
Guarding the Koi Pond-Fiction by Cecilia Kennedy
The Only Way to Fly-Fiction by Tom Andes
Written by Slade Stevens-Fiction by Chris Alleyne
Slaying the Siren-Fiction by Dionisio Traverso, Jr.
An Education-Flash Fiction by Jon Park
Don't Move-Flash Fiction by Pam Ebel
Fashion Statement-Flash Fiction by Bill Baber
No Pepsi, Coke-Flash Fiction by Paul Beckman
Sasha Takes Another Shot-Flash Fiction by Hillary Lyon
Bloody Daydream-Poem by Wayne Jermin
9173, 1803, 0094-Poem by John Doyle
Postfontaine-Poem by John Doyle
The Bullet of the Assassin-Poem by John Tustin
The Monster-Poem by John Tustin
Rely on the Moon-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
Trembling Shadows-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
Caught, hooked-Poem by Gregory E. Lucas
I'm Swimming and It's Late Autumn-Poem by Gregory E. Lucas
Don't...!-Poem by Harris Coverly
Helios Grimm-Poem by Harris Coverly
Hunter-Poem by Harris Coverly
immobile death mask-poem by ayaz daryl nielsen
moonless night-poem by ayaz daryl nielsen
moonlit breeze through a forest-poem by ayaz daryl nielsen
shadowu-poem by ayaz daryl nielsen
A New Life-Poem by John Grey
Matilda-Poem by John Grey
Moira Walks Home Late at Night-Poem by John Grey
The Head-Poem by John Grey
Cartoons by Cartwright
Hail, Tiger!
Angel of Manslaughter
Strange Gardens
Gutter Balls
Calpurnia's Window
No Place Like Home
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

Art by Steve Cartwright 2021

No Pepsi, Coke.


by Paul Beckman


The bus picked me up after waiting four hours outside the prison, and two hours later pulled into The Junction Rest Stop, where I carried my prison-issued backpack of clothes and personal effects to the gas pump, where I hung around asking for a ride.

“Where you going?” the gas pumper asked and I told him anywhere he was going was good enough for me, so he told me to hop in and asked if I just got out of prison and I told him I did, but that I wasn’t looking for trouble.

“Can you kick in a couple bucks for gas?” he asked, and I told him I had less than twenty on me but if he insisted, I could come up with a deuce.

I gave him a crumpled single and a dollar’s worth of change.

He pulled around to the side of the diner and asked me what type of sandwich I’d like, and I told him I was hungry, and any kind was good, so he came out and handed me a bag with tuna on rye, a bag of chips, and a can of Pepsi.

“Didn’t they have Coke?” I asked, and he said they did, but he was a Pepsi guy.

“Do you mind if I go in and change for a Coke?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’d mind very much.”

“Are you always this sensitive?”

“Do you always look a gift horse in his mouth?”

I reached over, yanked the car keys from the ignition and said, “I’ll be right back after I get my Coke.”

I got back to the car with my Coke, opened the door, tossed him the car keys, and said, “Drive.”

He pulled out of the station, and we rode in quiet until I turned to get something from my backpack, which I didn’t see. “Where’s my backpack?” I demanded.

“With your Pepsi.”

“Well, turn around and get it,” I ordered.

“Can’t. I’m on a tight schedule.”

We were stopped in line at the turnpike toll, so I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to me. “You don’t know who you’re messing with,” I said, and then heard the click of a switchblade and felt it in my groin.

I let go of his collar and got out of his car.

The driver floored the car, and then I heard him jam on his breaks and watched the trunk pop and saw him run out of the car, reach into the trunk, and grab the backpack. I watched him watching me and then I started running towards the car as he tossed the backpack into the woods and drove off, flipping me the bird as he went.

I caught a ride with an eighteen-wheeler and told him my version of the story where I got picked up, robbed, and had my backpack gone through and all my money stolen.

We spotted Mr. Pepsi filling up at the turnpike rest stop some three hours later, and my driver pulled a pistol from the glove compartment and told me to wait while he went to get my money.

As he reached the car I slid over to the driver’s seat and took off for parts unknown, blowing the airhorn as I went by him and the Pepsi guy, laying on the ground in a puddle of gas or blood.



Paul Beckman’s latest flash collection, Kiss Kiss (Truth Serum Press), was a finalist for the 2019 Indie Book Awards. Some of his stories have appeared in Spelk, Anti-Heroin Chic, Necessary Fiction, Bending Genres, Fictive Dream, Pank, Playboy, WINK, and The Lost Balloon. He had a story selected for the 2020 National Flash Fiction Day Anthology and was short-listed in the Strands International Flash Fiction Competition. Paul curates the monthly KGB FBomb NY flash fiction reading series (currently virtual).

It's well known that an artist becomes more popular by dying, so our pal Steve Cartwright is typing his bio with one hand while pummeling his head with a frozen mackerel with the other. Stop, Steve! Death by mackerel is no way to go! He (Steve, not the mackerel) has a collection of spooky toons, Suddenly Halloween!, available at Amazon.com.    He's done art for several magazines, newspapers, websites, commercial and governmental clients, books, and scribbling - but mostly drooling - on tavern napkins. He also creates art pro bono for several animal rescue groups. He was awarded the 2004 James Award for his cover art for Champagne Shivers. He recently illustrated the Cimarron Review, Stories for Children, and Still Crazy magazine covers. Take a gander ( or a goose ) at his online gallery: www.angelfire.com/sc2/cartoonsbycartwright . And please hurry with your response - that mackerel's killin' your pal, Steve Cartwright.

In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications 2021