Stories Archives - Sensitive Skin Magazine

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream

Harlan Ellison

Limp, the body of Gorrister hung from the pink palette; unsupported—hanging high above us in the computer chamber; and it did not shiver in the chill, oily breeze that blew eternally through the main cavern. The body hung ...

Doc’s Clock

Mike DeCapite

Doc’s Clock was a good place to get out of afternoon’s flare-up, when the sun over Mission Street was blazing toward some painful equipoise between day and night, and hung in a shaft through the transom and the open door...

Story

The Dark Side of the North Pole

Darius James

An excerpt from the novel, "Froggy Chocolates" Froggie woke up curled upside down in a fetal-ball; pretzeled in a tangle of arms, legs, feet and elbows with his nose pinched between the split of another child’s bottom....

Zombie Hef

Peter Marti

Zombie Hef from beyond the grave grabs my old junk and yanks Zombie Hef promises me nubile 20-year-old beauties but one touch and they crumble into dust and gore Zombie Hef points his dead pipe at me and leers over the...

The Opportunity of a Lifetime

Mike Hudson

The canyon was broken and hilly, with shallow arroyos cutting north to south and green agave plants and small stands of Joshua trees providing the only color there was against the relentless grey of the desert and the dirty ...

Story

Macy Dreams of Red and Blue

Mac Blauner

There is the whoop of a siren, and suddenly red and blue lights play over the backs of her closed eyelids. She lies in bed. She knows it’s the cops. This is always how she wakes when they come to her father’s house in th...

Pier 39

Julia Kissina

"Give me a blow job!" He bends me quite low to his crotch, and I want to tell him a few words more about how much I love him, but he doesn't leave me any time. He presses his hand on the back of my head and my gaze slide...

Writing

Carmen Miranda on East 5th Street

Coree Spencer

Most of the kitchen staff and busboys at Mary Ann's Mexican restaurant on Fifth Street and Second Avenue in the East Village are from the Dominican Republic, like Luis, a cook in his early twenties. Despite being just a few...

Ghosts

Ryan Leone

Back in the days when relationships weren't digitized and couldn't just be deleted, you had to rip down pictures until there were only taped corners left on the wall that would taunt for a lifetime as torn and tiny ghosts. ...

A Junkie’s Christmas

Vincent Zangrillo

Okay, you’re right. I am sitting by a pool in the sub-tropical Florida sun, not too far from West Palm Beach, and it is the middle of August, so hot that just lifting a drink makes you sweat. But this is, I assure you, a s...

Writing