e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
by Jonathan Ferrini “Speedy Gas” was a small, two-pump, single-bay gas station tucked into a forgotten corner of San Francisco. It was not the kind of station visited by those chasing the lowest price per gallon or making a hurried dash into a minimart, but to its old customers and to those who still valued […]
by Kenneth M. Kapp There were torrential rains for several days. Flood warnings periodically flashed across the bottom of my PC when I was online. But eventually there was a break in the thunderstorm warnings and since I needed to clear my head – I was getting frustrated and could no longer think straight – […]
Journeys Individual beginnings are often small and seemingly insignificant –
Personal Hell The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress [Philip Roth] As a child Sisyphus once pushed pebbles up an ant hill and watched them roll down again.
by Kenneth M. Kapp ~ 1~ A Rose The pillowcase, once white, was now as gray as the old man’s stubble. Indeed, Carl’s motionless head looked like an adolescent’s art project abandoned years ago, parked as it was between large lumps of the pillow. Blankets were pulled up to his chin from under a beaten […]
de Ștefan Bolea Can we ever finish crossing it? We’re climbing out of a self-inflicted pit Soldiers with no armies, horses without a knight
by Oindrila Ghosal The automatic doors of the train parted. Ranveer, clutching his harmonium in the canvas bag, stepped in. At this time of the evening, there were not many people on the platform. Not many people disembarked either. And so, without much hassle, he found himself a seat by the window. He first […]
by Kenneth M. Kapp Sam was doing his best to exercise more. If he went shopping, he’d go in the morning and park the car at the far end of the store’s lot. If he had only a couple of bags of groceries, he’d leave the car on the street instead of pulling into his […]
wine remember we drank together tasteless wine from a cardboard box now I’m even poorer and I drink only your silence
by Jonathan Ferrini Victor grew up inside a trailer park with dilapidated trailers packed together like tuna in a rusty old can. His grandmother’s trailer smelled of cleaning supplies; the scent she brought home from cleaning offices overnight. She raised Victor alone after his mother abandoned him for a life as a hippie drifting from […]