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Sibling Rivalry in a Zombie Apocalypse: Fiction by Jon Park
Dead is Dead: Fiction by Roy Dorman
Rooms: Fiction by Harris Coverley
Do You Know the Pizza Man?: Fiction by Beverle Graves Myers
Testing the Waters: Fiction by Rick McQuiston
Unclaimed Property!: Fiction by Pamela Ebel
The Causeway: Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Witchy: Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
An Assembly of Assassins: Flash Fiction by Hillary Lyon
The White Nothing: Flash Fiction by Phil Temples
Carmelita: Flash Fiction by Zvi A. Sesling
The Horror of Hidden Pond: Flash Fiction by M. L. Fortier
Kim Philby: Flash Fiction by Henry Simpson
Fear: Flash Fiction by Cheryl Snell
Homecoming: Flash Fiction by Kurt Hohmann
Castle: Flash Fiction by Ron Capshaw
Head: Flash Fiction by Ron Capshaw
Something Wicked This Way Thumbs: Flash Fiction by K. A. Williams
The Charcoal Man: Flash Fiction by Fred Zackel
Tarot Tara: Flash Fiction by Steve Cartwright
Mr. Bunny and $88.01: Flash Fiction by William Kitcher
Don't Think Twice: Flash Fiction by Elizabeth Zelvin
Teasing in the Light: Flash Fiction by Bradford Middleton
Spider: Flash Fiction by Mark Jabaut
Infirmities: Poem by David Galef
Dreaming a Little: Poem by Juan Mobili
The Dead Mingle with the Living: Poem by John Tustin
The Flower in Your Lapel: Poem by John Tustin
May Day: Poem by Partha Sarkar
Procession: Poem by Partha Sarkar
At the Funeral Lunch: Poem by Joan Leotta
Dreaming My Way Home: Poem by Joan Leotta
The Silence: Poem by John Grey
Pacing: Poem by John Grey
Elementary Classes: Poem by John C. Mannone
Rage: Poem by John C. Mannone
Comfort Zone: Poem by John C. Mannone
Serpentine Line: Poem by Charles Weld
William Calley's Apology: Poem by Charles Weld
Steve J: Poem by Charles Weld
Thief: Poem by Michael Keshigian
Sweet Pleasure: Poem by Michael Keshigian
Courtship: Poem by Michael Keshigian
Again, A Bike Left: Poem by Rp Verlaine
Short Cuts to Madness: Poem by Rp Verlaine
Ingrid Leaves Vegas: Poem by Rp Verlaine
A Necessary Poem: Poem by Rob Plath
Last Gesture: Poem by Rob Plath
Carpe Sanguinem: Poem by Rob Plath
The Antitesis: Poem by Rob Plath
Cartoons by Cartwright
Hail, Tiger!
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Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

Bradford Middleton: Teasing in the Light

Art by Sophia Wiseman-Rose 2023



by Bradford Middleton



That night, oh, boy, what a night, it had all seemed like a dream, a dream made real on a night of worm-induced tequila madness at the Saint Mark’s bar as Melody fell into Jack’s warm embrace for the first time and, at last, Jack had something to live for beyond his crappy little job and his shitty little room as he had her. 

From the very first moment he had said “hi,” it had all moved so quickly. Within a week, he’d practically moved in; that first week, that magical time of never-ending pleasure, went by in a flurry of sexual adventure and they’d barely left her room, their boudoir of delight, and Jack couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt happier. 

She told him everything and he did the same, and when he admitted he loved being teased, she took that as a personal challenge.

The next night, Jack returned from work and there she was, stood in front of their floor lamp gyrating to some wild ‘60s song wearing a dress almost transparent. She looked astonishing, or at least that’s what he thought, as he began salivating before moving in tight and taking her in his arms. 

They went to bed and made love like they’d never done before, with feeling, with soul, but most of all with love and again Jack fell asleep dreaming of a life that he was currently living. 

Again, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d been happier; hell, not in this lifetime anyway, and the next morning she went off to work and he simply sat around getting high and watching daytime TV.

That afternoon when Melody had returned from work Jack was so high, he barely noticed as she changed into a pair of her darkest jeans and a long baggy jumper that showed off absolutely nothing at all but as the evening came into view she turned to him.

“Jack,” she says, making sure he’s firmly back on terra firma after his intergalactic odyssey, “Jack, I’ve got something I need to do with work tonight. . . .”

“Oh sure,” he responds, not having any idea that this, well, this was to be the end of the happy life, at least his. 

She started going out and a lot as well and soon Jack is sat in the armchair in their living room, struggling to remember the last time he’d seen her until, at last, he hears the shuffling of a key in the lock.

“Oh, Jack,” she says, as she stumbles into the living room with a new friend in tow, “Oh, Jack . . .” she says unwilling, or possibly unable due to drink, to complete her sentence.

“Look,” the other woman suddenly says, “we’re in love, me and Mel is where it’s at now, you get it? Good,” she says before he even has a chance to respond, “well, you know what to do then, don’t you?”

“But . . .”

“No buts, fucker, just get the hell out of here . . . understand me?”

“Mel???” he drawls, wishing he could sit and roll another big fat joint as tears begin to pour from his eyes.

“Ah, now, come on man, get with it,” she says, as she begins throwing some of his clothes into a bag. 

Melody simply ignores what is going on and disappears into the bedroom and before her head even hits the pillow, Jack is out on the street and that first raindrop sobers him up better than anything had done in years. 




Bradford Middleton lives in Brighton on the UK’s southeast coast.  He was born in London during the long hot summer of 1971 and growing up on a council estate and attending the local school, he learnt two things; if he didn’t kick back he’d never get anywhere in this life, merely becoming another cog in the wheel, and has been kicking against those pricks his entire life. He began writing when he arrived in Brighton in the early years of the new century and began reading his poems to often stunned and confused onlookers until one day Mad Swirl asked to publish one of his poems. He’s had four chapbooks published since then and has hundreds of poems dotted all over the internet.  His work has featured in the Chiron Review, Evening Street Review, New Reader Magazine, Paper & Ink Lit Zine, Horror Sleaze Trash, and Razur Cuts, amongst other places including, of course, Yellow Mama.  Follow him on Twitter @BradfordMiddle5. 

Sophia Wiseman-Rose is a Paramedic and an Episcopalian nun. Both careers have provided a great deal of exposure to the extremes in life and have provided great inspiration for her.  

 She is currently spending time with her four lovely grown children and making plans to move back to her home in the UK in the Autumn.  

 In addition, Sophia had a few poems in the last edition of Black Petals Horror/Science Fiction Magazine



In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications 2023