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No Filter
Paul Beckman

     Sari called me out. It wasn't the first time but it was the first time in front of others. She called me a "Herpes Fucker" and maybe it made me look bad but it sure didn't help her future social life any. Sometimes saying, "Just kidding" is not nearly enough.

Paul Beckman has had over two hundred stories published in print and online in the following magazines amongst others: Connecticut Review, Raleigh Review, Litro, Playboy, Pank, Literary Orphans, Blue Fifth Review, Flash Frontier, Metazen, Boston Literary Magazine and The Brooklyner. He's had a novella and three collections published; the newest, "Peek" by Big Table Publishing in Feb. of this year. His published story website is paulbeckmanstories.com.




Fishing
Paul Germano

     She settles on the barstool, acting completely unaware when she crosses her legs and her leather skirt slightly hikes. A flash of pink catches the attention of a wide-eyed college guy with a five-o’clock shadow and a joyous smile. He’s hooked! She casually adjusts her skirt and reels him in.

Paul Germano lives in Syracuse, NY; with his dog April, a strong, muscular and lovable Pit Bull mix. Germano’s fiction has been published in roughly 30 print and online magazines including The Aroostook Review, Hobart, Journal of Microliterature, Marco Polo Arts Magazine, Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette, Ray’s Road Review, Vestal Review and VIA: Voices in Italian Americana. In his non-fiction adventures, he has worked as an editor and writer for Syracuse University, Le Moyne College, Stars Magazine, The Catholic Sun and the Syracuse New Times.




Active Service
John Osborn

     She knows it’s mostly humanitarian stuff— but there’s combat too. That worries her. Nobody’s invincible. Even him. Nights like these she paces restlessly around the apartment, waiting for him to get back. Anxious for his safety in those far-off lands.
     Then she sees him hovering outside the window, cape fluttering.

There's a Man Who Walks
John Osborn

     Fella wears a big ol cowboy hat and snakeskin boots that click-clack against the tarmac of whatever road he’s hitchhikin on. Been here, been there, been everywhere. Guy ain't too nice if you get in his way. Broke my cousins arm. Don't say his name. Makes him show up supposly.

John Osborn is an aspiring writer based in west London. When he hasn't got his nose in a book, he's probably hunched over his laptop, staring at a blank screen, sweating blood.







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