Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Filthy.
The yellow jacket
He’s sitting at a restaurant table by the seaside with his feet up. His brown hair, messy as the shore, is tied up in a bun as cute as his yellow vintage jacket. As untidy as his curls, is his beard, which reminds me of someone I am yet to remember. He stares at the world’s biggest waves for most of the time, while occasionally scrolling through his phone. By his side there’s a book, I can’t see the cover but it looks old, I somehow get the feeling that the book has been read by hands other than his. Oh, his hands.
By Lucia Carretero Sierra4 years ago in Filthy
Penetrating the Solstice
The Solstice neared. The nights had grown longer, colder. Rare was the wanderer caught walking through the night. All had turned indoors, spending time close by family and friends, seeking warmth, shelter, assurance. Seeking affirmation, that life would continue in this time of dying when the world fell into its gray wintry slumber.
By Samantha Willows4 years ago in Filthy
Friday
I was to meet Jack on Friday; having not seen him in a couple of years, I wanted to get a coffee first and chit-chat. The last time I saw him was when I was into the swinging crowd; Jack was part of a couple of threesomes, and the memory of what great a lover he was has stayed with me.
By Shannon Lemire4 years ago in Filthy
Austin's Drop
My house was in a vortex, spiraling downward into something smelly until it would deposit me in a pill relapse, so I decided to get out for the night. On my way out the door, I spilled a red plastic cup filled with cigarette butts and yellow water. It stained my carpet but I disregarded it. I left the house at around 8 pm. It was brisk and damp outside, the air smelling like potential rain. The sky was clear though. I began walking down the street, past several houses, a gas station, grocery store, and a shopping center.
By Ty D Lowman4 years ago in Filthy
The Stranger in Me
I open a door to an apartment I know well, pretending I don’t know it at all. Her petite frame stands in the middle of the lounge, looking unsure, squeezing a glass of sparkling champagne so hard, she’s at risk of crushing it in her palm. You stand next to her. The room is illuminated by many lamps glowing with the dimmed purple light I know you like to have sex to.
By Joanna Borkowska4 years ago in Filthy
Secret Life of a Domestic Housewife
I have a soft spot for military subs, when you get the right one under your thumb it's like magic when you work together. There is something special about unwrapping a present that's dressed in fatigues and has the "can do" attitude of a soldier. Here is one short story of my experience with a military sub.
By Julia Maupin4 years ago in Filthy
The Beasts
The air's, icy breath cascades down the side of the rocky face, biting the edges of my cheeks and tearing at my ears. My hands, even gloved, can barely move, and my legs stiffen under the weight of the frigid atmosphere. The lungs, heaving in my chest, are close to popping under the pressure. I cannot breathe.
By Scott A. Vancil4 years ago in Filthy
