Macabre Magazine

  • Farewell Francis by Eryne Thibeau

    “True! -nervous -very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why                                will you say that I am mad?” – Edgar Allen Poe The plastic accordion curtain slid back, and he could see into the bathroom. Would it have…

  • Tether by Lee Beaudrot

    Pat had recently gotten really into staring at ceiling fans, primarily the one in his bedroom, but he wasn’t particular. The one in his bedroom was good. Well not good, but interesting. Sort of. What he meant was that he could look at it for a long time without feeling like he wanted to stop…

  • Plucking the Moon from the Bottom of the Ocean by Jon Gluckman

    No one lives in my house now. You can tell because, at night, there are no lights. People should have lights on at night. Not too late at night, people have to sleep, but around dinnertime or just after, when people go to the den to watch Get Smart or something else with a laugh…

  • Pied Piper’s Infernal Circus by M.O. Stewart

    Miranda couldn’t recall the last time a circus came through town. The flier listed the city basketball court as its venue. Miranda squinted through the bright sun at the banner hanging in the stadium window. It looked vintage, like an advert for Barnum and Bailey’s on display in a museum exhibit. Miranda cast her eyes…

  • Bob’s Machine by Steven Patchett

    So, you’re thinking about working for Mr. Bob Hensham, huh? Think he’s the cat’s pajamas or something? Think his business is going places, but you’re wondering, why am I going around town telling people that he’s the Devil? I’m really glad you asked me that. Settle down, thanks for the beer, and open them big…

  • Imaginary Friends by Steven French

    Whenever he and his wife Rawia had friends over, or would go to theirs for dinner, Brian liked to imagine beforehand how the conversation would go. He’d rehearse in his head the opening gambits, the witty responses and the insightful aperçus that he imagined he would deliver, accompanied by the acknowledging nods or perhaps a…

  • There’s Nothing in the Closet by Richard K. Gonzales

    “Mom!” Kayla knew right when she yelled it, trouble would soon follow. Trouble always did, especially when her mother had started her liquid dinner around lunchtime. Kayla, 7-years-old, was in bed, covers pulled up tightly up to her nose. Her blue eyes peeked out widely, searching for the noise that caused her to utter that…

  • Off-Cuts by Miriam Killdeer

    Sarah Whitechapel was currently struggling to imagine life without her ring finger. The knuckles of her left hand ached as she drew her fingers into her palm for the thousandth time that morning. She’d been told it helped to visualize, but it was difficult to picture nothing where there’d once been something. It was difficult…

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