e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
by Douglas Young Keaton’s excitement grew the closer he got to his friend Zita’s place. She and her roommates were throwing a house-warming party that Friday night, and Keaton hoped to see many buddies from high school and college, including several not seen in years. Lost in an unfamiliar neighborhood, the twenty-six-year-old tried an […]
by Carmen Grad We have never felt safe in the silence. Not the silence of a still room, nor the deeper, more deafening silence of the universe. So we filled it—with words, with rituals, with imagined voices that sounded like mercy but often spoke like judgment. Faced with the vast, unanswerable mystery of existence, we […]
by Jonathan Ferrini I left the Army exchanging my camos for a uniform consisting of a white vest, black slacks, and a clip-on black bow tie. I got the job from my commanding officer whose family owned a home on the shore of Lake Tahoe. He made an introduction to the GM of a five-star […]
by Douglas Young Though slightly nervous, Radford McGinniss caught himself smiling en route to a fifteenth annual high school reunion thrown at a classmate’s home Saturday evening. Despite his four years at Theophilus Holmes High being his most miserable, littered with the usual adolescent angst and aggravated by a severe strain of shyness, Radford still […]
[Five Poems from Corpses in the Void] translated from Romanian by Ștefan Bolea Prophetic Anatomy There isn’t any poison left only some pale fluids the sunburnt tongue cries in agony
Moonlight During the faint hours of night the moon beckons to me.
by Jonathan Ferrini I checked in to the venerable hotel sitting atop Nob Hill in San Francisco greeting the cable car riders ascending California Street. It appeared in many well-known movies and afforded fantastic views of the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco.
by Kenneth M. Kapp “Honestly!” Little Bonny J waived her hands in the air. “Honestly, Mom, I didn’t eat those cookies. A girl has to be careful to keep her figure youthful. Even when you’re eight that’s important. You’ve told me that umpteen times. See, I do listen!”
by Zygmunt Nowak Solinski Invited round. Small, wild garden with children. Stupid kids. Look at them, playing football. How can you talk with them kicking that bloody ball around? It’s going to hit …
by Kenneth M. Kapp Avrum couldn’t remember his own name. In truth, he’d forced himself to forget his name a long time ago: months, years, centuries ago. He laughed once, recalling that one year in a dog’s life is like seven of ours. “Ha, then I’m living one dog’s life for my mother,” and […]