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

Dust to Dust: Mystery Short Story

IN THE September 11 ISSUE

FROM THE 2021 Articles,
andMysteryrat's Maze,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by V.S. Kemanis



Boots firmly planted, Lucy Pitts gazes east from the summit and declares to the newly risen sun, “There is no better place than this.” Below the hilltop of dry grass, her two-point-five acres abound with California natives: manzanita, thimbleberry, madrone, bay laurel, and live oak. Rooted like another wild native, the century-old redwood structure unashamedly shows off its mossy shingled roof.

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by Jan Christensen




My first impression of Phillip was that he was blessed with ignorance. He knew nothing of world events, nothing of religion. And probably nothing much about sex. It was sort of refreshing—no angry tirades about the current goings on in the White House and Congress, and no heated discussions about religion. I figured he must be happy—ignorance is bliss, right? I wasn’t so sure about being ignorant about sex, but he could learn, couldn’t he?

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by Radine Trees Nehring



The constant “pock-pocka-pock” of the muskets wasn’t so bad. The boom of the cannons—from this distance at least—was endurable, especially for someone who had listened to rock drummers turned up loud. But the wind was sending black powder smoke straight toward them and, in this heat, that was awful. The whole idea was stupid. She was hot, sweaty, and she’d had enough.

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by Margaret S. Hamilton



Lizzie climbed out of her van and called to Claire. “I’ve got a load of special Easter eggs.” Daylight was fading in the park. Clumps of vivid yellow daffodils dotted the wildflower meadow, paired with blooming forsythia.

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Mystery Short Story Body of Evidence

IN THE February 27 ISSUE

FROM THE 2021 Articles,
andMysteryrat's Maze,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by Guy Belleranti


Ross Clark took care to park near Alice Morton’s front door, out of sight of the bedroom window through which he had entered earlier.
Clark’s fiancée, Brittany, pressed the doorbell, but of course, no one came.

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by Margaret Mendel


Time has an interesting way of blending the present with a bit of lingering tastes from the past. Some days when I look back and remember falling in love with my husband, it doesn’t feel like it was all that long ago. But over four decades later my feelings for him are still strong, and though it would be hard to have realized back then, my love for him has only grown stronger.

{ 10 comments }

by Gary Hoffman


Megan stopped on the trail, set her backpack on a stump, and untied her poncho. It wasn’t raining yet, but the sound of thunder and the smell of rain were in the air.

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Stealth: A Mystery Short Story

IN THE January 2 ISSUE

FROM THE 2021 Articles,
andMysteryrat's Maze,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by Merrilee Robson



It was a small sound but enough to wake her. Enid listened, holding her body still, quietening her breath so she could hear.
What was that sound? The door, that was it, the soft snick of the latch. Someone had come in.

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Saul and Mordecai: A Short Story

IN THE December 30 ISSUE

FROM THE 2020 Articles,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by Gary Hoffman


“What are you doing?”
Saul dropped the shirt he had folded into a suitcase on the bed. “Oy. What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”
“Well, maybe a better question would have been, why are you packing? You taking a trip you didn’t tell me about?” Mordecai asked.

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Aunt Tennie: A Short Story

IN THE December 23 ISSUE

FROM THE 2020 Articles,
andTerrific Tales
SECTIONS

by Gary Hoffman


Her name was Tennie Cloer, but I always called her Aunt Tennie. Did from the first day I met her. When she would go downtown, folks called her Mrs. Cloer. One of the first things I noticed about her was how short she was and how when she wasn’t around, people referred to her as the Widow Cloer.

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by Connie Berry


Vivian Bunn frowned at the boxes and tissue paper strewn across the floor of Lady Barbara Finchley-fforde’s sitting room. Decorating Finchley Hall for the holidays used to be more a matter of deciding than actually doing the work. But since Mr. Mugg had…er, resigned, there was no one left to do it. Except Francie Jewell, of course. Francie, Lady Barbara’s cook and maid-of-all-work, would tackle anything except ironing. But if Francie were put in charge of Christmas decorations, they’d probably end up with a fake tree in the Great Hall and inflatable snowmen in the courtyard.

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by Herschel Cozine


Not much happens here in Sheepsvale. It’s a small town, mostly farms and open space that holds little attraction for city folks. This is fine with me. Too many visitors means crime and big city trouble. As sheriff, I am perfectly satisfied to put my feet up on my desk, have a leisurely cup of coffee, and let the rest of the world go by. So when I got the call that there was trouble at the north edge of town I was a little surprised. There are only two farms in that neck of the woods: McGregor’s and Old MacDonald’s.

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by Ang Pompano


Gabby Newman crept through her backyard watching the lantern in the tent turn her brother Steven, and his friend Miles, into shadow puppets. Steven was telling the same old story of the headless ghost.

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by Margaret Mendel


Bev trusted her instincts, always had. So far she figured that’s what had kept her out of harm’s way all these years. Her mother moaned and complained about all the crazy schemes that her daughter had come up with. Though this time her mother said that none of her other ideas sounded half as ridiculous as this one. “You’ll end up a pile of bones,” were her mother’s last words as Bev closed the door behind her and descended the steps of the front porch.

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