Read Runner-Up Ian Wolff Short Story on The NUB App!

How Could You not Do Well in the Bahamas? by Ian Wolff


There is a man living under my house. He moved in a week ago. At first I thought it was a raccoon making a nest for itself with the leaves from the big maple out back. The leaves had all fallen from the tree, and I had raked them into piles in the yard. I’m not much of a yard-work man, but I had needed the diversion. I’ll go ahead and tell you, my girlfriend left me.

Melissa left me not long after I quit my job at Danza’s where I was a line cook. I shouldn’t have quit.  It was a good job. I made decent enough money. Enough to buy this lousy clapboard shotgun shack. And I had full benefits. But the GM had it in for me and constantly rode my ass until, finally, I came out of the kitchen and punched him in the face in the middle of service. Melissa made it through most of my drunk that followed. But she finally gave up after day eight, and ran off with Danza’s brother, the sommelier….


Read the rest on the NUB app, its free!

Read Runner-Up Curtis LeBlanc’s Short Story on the NUB App!

Water Break by Curtis LeBlanc

We got a call from his neighbour a couple days back, said there’s a sinkhole the size of his Ford Ranger forming in the backyard next door, said he’s worried there might be some kind of water leak. Apparently, the guy who owns the house wasn’t overly concerned about his sinking lawn, considering he wasn’t the one who called. In fact, he looks like he’s more worried about the fact that we showed up to check things out.
After I see this guy squirming, talking to me with the front door open just a crack and the chain lock pulled tight, I radio public works to find out if he’s been skipping on his payments. Turns out, he hasn’t. Never missed a payment in his thirteen years of tenancy. So I get off the radio and ask him, “Mind if I take a look?”
He says, “Be my guest.”

There isn’t much around the back—a twelve-by-twelve deck and an empty plot of grass. At one end of the yard, I can see the sinkhole forming around where the valve is supposed to be. It looks like fresh sod on top. At the other end is another fairly large spot of crisp green grass that I’m guessing he used to replace a dead patch. I poke around with the metal detector over the spongy ground that’s sloping in, and off it goes, wailing. I dig a couple inches down and hit the valve cap—ting—right on the head. No problem. It’s pretty clear to me what’s happened here….


Read the rest on the NUB App, its free!


Read Runner-Up Jodi Stone’s Short Story On The NUB App!

Vicious Lovers By Jodi Stone
I have brought the chickens. Two of them, siblings. The smaller one’s named Nancy because he’s a bit of a wuss, the other called Beak on account of his being the largest of the flock. They don’t race unless I prod them which is something I don’t like to do but I need the money. Who doesn’t. I was told to come at sunset and it’s just about that time judging by the rose-blue sky. Nancy and Beak sit still in their cage, the wire corner poking into my ribs as I walk toward the dark mouth of the sewer pipe. It’s lit inwards with fire or flashlights; I can’t see for sure out here under the bridge. I step inside where the water drips and pools, where voices come at me from the end. I wait, and listen, and consider turning back.
‘There they are.’ A slap on my back and a familiar voice: Ron. ‘The chickens!’ he says. ‘The headliners. Hey!’ and pokes two thumbs at his chest like Fonzie in his leather vest. Ron leans down making wet kissing sounds at the chickens now clucking. Beak struts in a tight circle kicking up seed behind him. Ron smacks my back again. ‘Right this way,’ he says. I commit and follow….


Read the rest on The NUB App, its free!

Read Runner-Up Sarah Segal’s Short Story on The NUB App!

It’s Nothing by Sarah Segal

I was taking the baby for a walk to the park when the rockets started falling from the sky. Perhaps the sounds should have alerted me to the troublesome situation developing on the border with Lebanon, but I’d become used to explosions and didn’t even raise an eyebrow. We lived near the firing range and the military practiced often. My baby and I lounged at the park, enjoying the shade of the trees. I pushed my baby on the swing. Afterwards, we walked down the quiet, dusty streets to our home, and I put my baby down for a nap. All to the soundtrack of explosions and machine gun fire.

I washed the dishes and made myself lemonade. The ringing phone brought nap time to an early end, and with the baby on my hip I listened to my father-in-law shouting down the line. Where have you been, I’ve been calling! Dont you hear the bombs, dont you know Hezbollah are firing on us? Another explosion, much louder this time, startled the baby. I hung up the phone to comfort her, and turned on the news. A scuffle on the border, soldiers from our side killed, all border communities ordered into the shelters.I sat back in my chair. I was so habituated to the sounds of war that I didn’t even notice one when it started! I called my husband at work.

“It’s nothing, I’ll be home later,” he said.  “I invited some friends over for a barbecue. Make a salad; I’ll pick up some chicken on my way home.”….


Read the rest on The NUB App, its free!

Deathmatch 2015: A Look Back at “Eraser”

andrea wrobel


This week we’re going to take a look back at some of our previous Indie Writer’s Deathmatch finalists, winners and commenters. Today we take a look at Andrea Wrobel, a finalist in last year’s Deathmatch with her story, “Eraser.” Andrea also made some killer #deathmemes to drum up voter support (see above.) Be inspired by her efforts! ENTER DEATHMATCH 2015 NOW!



Pause for a second. My name is Samantha Able and I am currently choking on the little pink bit of eraser that used to be attached to my HB number 2 pencil. I liked the way the little pink prince squeaked against the edges of my teeth. Like it was shining my canines up real nice. In the precise moment the little jerk came loose I was fantasizing about scrubbing the two so white that people would think I was a vamp at first glance, just because they’d stand out more than the others. I could hear the squeaking in my head and wondered if it was as loud to anybody else. No one seemed interested. I was almost invisible. But I guess I got a little too into it. Squeak, squeak, squeak. It’s good to have goals. Squeak, squeak, I did, trying to see if anyone would turn around. Is the lecture that boring? Maybe they’re all asleep. Squeak, squeak. Like a symphony of a dollar store quartet. That’s probably where Aunt Nancy got these HBs from. Are they even real? I checked. They’re real. Aunt Nancy only ever shops at Value Plus (damn those discounts) and No Dollar Taller (and damn this little pink prince now wedged in my throat so stubbornly I might actually die).

I might actually die.

Let me paint the rest of the picture for you.

Indie Events Round Up: December 15 – 21


Gein Wong reads at the Plasticine Poetry Series this Sunday [image via]

Tuesday, December 16


12th Annual Dead Poets Night at the Art Bar, 8pm, Black Swan Tavern, 154 Danforth, free

15 readers come together for the end of Art Bar’s year, which features readings exclusively from the catalog of deceased writers.

Wednesday, December 17


Fight Back: Sex Workers Respond to C36, 6:30pm, queen West Community Health Centre, 168 Bathurst St, free

On December 6, Harper’s Bill C-36 became law. This year, on the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers, a coalition of sex workers and sex worker organizations come together to share information and support each other with a panel and gathering. /

Season’s Crafting, 8pm, Shoppe and Tailor, 428 Ossington Avenue, $20 (includes snacks, supplies)

Crafting, music, drinks, and food at a new shop and studio space. BYO booze.