A California Magazine with Local Focus and Global Appeal:
Community - Entertainment - Human Interest

Weekly issues every Saturday morning and other special articles throughout the week — there's something for everyone. Check out our sister site KRL News & Reviews for even more articles every week.

Terrific Tales

by Guy Belleranti

Sally Peale flattened herself in the back corner of Maureen Mitchell’s bedroom closet, hiding behind the longest evening gown.
“This makes no sense, Sally,” Maureen’s nephew, Brian, shouted from somewhere near at hand. “I know you’re upstairs. You can’t escape.”


by Dallas Dalyce

Yeah, I know I’m beautiful. At least I was until about a year ago, when the cancer reached my face. I don’t take any credit for my beauty. I was created this way. I didn’t have any choice or input. I don’t really pay it any mind; I just accept it, like we all accept that we have two eyes, two ears, one nose, and one mouth.

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by Debra H. Goldstein

When it comes to jumping into the ocean, two things always hold me back: my fear of sharks and how I look in a wet bathing suit. Pete must have plied me with a lot of drinks last night for me to stand shivering, waiting to plunge into the Gulf of Mexico at high noon on Valentine’s Day.


by Gail Farrelly

Once upon a time…
There was a pudgy sheriff shivering in the cold as he looked out over a frozen lake. He pulled his black wool cap further down on his head and was thinking that he should have been home in bed. It was, after all, three o’clock in the morning—the morning of Valentine’s Day.


by Ilene Schneider

“Is…is he dead?”
“I don’t know. He’s not moving. And look at the color of his face.”
“Maybe we should take the duct tape off his mouth, see if he’s breathing.”


by Guy Belleranti

Detective Macy paced beside my aunt’s bedside. “Did you see your assailant? His face…Anything?”
“No.” Aunt Grace shakily wiped several tears from her pale wrinkled cheeks. “I was asleep. It wasn’t until I felt my pillow being pressed over my face that I knew someone else was in the room.”


by Michael Guillebeau

My first dead body and it’s not. I mean it’s not him. I am so screwed.
I can’t believe I ditched school for this. But when the substitute history teacher died, and I had never seen a dead guy, I thought I could get to the funeral home and back before anybody noticed.


by Ilene Schneider

The man standing in the middle of the sidewalk blocking other pedestrians would have been handsome had his dark face not been contorted by rage as he screamed at the young boy. The man’s well-trimmed beard with its scattering of grey, his black hair curling around the edges of his lavishly jeweled turban, his beautifully tailored clothing told of his aristocratic lineage.


by Angie Sherwood

Lorraine’s head pounded to the beat of the blaring music. What a way to end this horrible year. How had Patsy Duggar convinced her to come to the New Year’s Eve party at Izzie’s? She felt as out of place in the local bar as she would on Mars. Now, she was hiding in the dirty bathroom—how embarrassing! The champagne she drank earlier made the tile floor swirl; the motion, coupled with the wine, made her queasy.

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by Rene Vera Jr.

It was a cold, December night as I snuggled myself between two warm and cushiony gifts below the Christmas tree. The scent of pine was in the air, and a slight glimmer shone from the hallway nightlight, which the Martins would leave on for the comfort of the children. There weren’t many gifts below the old tree this year, but the love for each other in this household was unmatched, and I was proud to be a part of it.

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by Gary Hoffman

Sarah was so engrossed in her own problems, she didn’t hear the three men ride up to the front of her farm house. When one of the men called out, “Hello,” she jumped, and her hand went to her mouth. After smoothing her apron and running her fingers through her hair, she went out on the front porch.


by Elaine Faber

Anthony crouched next to the telephone booth behind the Rescue Mission. He pushed back a strand of dirty hair and wiped a ragged sleeve across his nose. He was sick of hot dogs and beans at the Rescue Mission and their phony Christmas spirit. He hated the sight of plastic Christmas trees, fake Santas, and the city’s hollow Christmas cheer.


Snowdog: A Christmas Short Story

IN THE December 5 ISSUE

FROM THE 2018 Articles,
andMysteryrat's Maze,
andTerrific Tales

by Maryetta Ackenbom

Big Jim Chambers shuffled along the sidewalk, saving energy and shoe leather, making time to pull together his emotions before he greeted his son again. He had nothing to offer the boy.

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by Lorie Lewis Ham

As a perfect way to start off the month of December, Gretchen Archer and Kings River Life are giving away this Christmas mystery short story!


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