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Enjoy reading this short Erotica story by masterful, award-winning writer Deva Shore.
I open my eyes to find him staring at me.
Remembrance of our lovemaking causes a flush to stain my cheeks.
Gently he tugs at the sheet, his eyes never leaving mine.
The whirring of the fan caresses my breast, hardening the nipple.
His eyes flash mischievously before lowering his head,
the lightness of his tongue dances along my throat,
inching its way closer, my skin tingling with anticipation.
Instead, he throws back the sheet, exposing me completely.
I gasp, try to pull back but he throws it to the floor.
I’m not the medicine that you long for;
I’m not a lifeline, I’m not the boat,
I’m just the salt that’ll keep you afloat.
I stare at the noise, drawn to the void,
Conversations that I’ll craftily avoid;
I’ll walk off the earth, dying since my birth,
Keep running till my bones hit the dirt.
Under the shower, let the hotness devour,
And the water sink into my eyes like a rotten flower;
I’ve got the deadest face, I’m just a waste of space,
I’ll let my heart run free as my soul loses grace.
peanuts all night long and drives me
out of my mind when she gets
herself a selfie with swinging medallions.
She asks for forgiveness from Mrs. Magician and
her dear one, the sunbather at Finnegan’s wake.
During the cruel war, the idol with the golden
head felt a little bit lied to
on the dirt road by Susan Surftone,
so it went away and brought plague to a place
where a pounding boogie put
candlelight under its thumb
Stirred up chaos in my chest
Cared for me like no one before
Became addicted to you
Needed more and more
You were the first
To love me
To make me feel high
To see me as more than “hot”
To touch me in that spot
We are excited to publish today a short fiction story by the talented, award-winning Australian writer Deva Shore. We hope you enjoy reading this story as much as we did!
How far will a distempered husband go to get rid of his loathsome wife?
“Deva once more unleashes her creative writing skills, luring us into a dark, psychological mini-thriller featuring an unlikable, murderous husband with despicable intentions. Odious as our protagonist is, we’re bound to feel a little compassionate toward him when we read the vivid descriptions of his devoted, yet off-putting, wife.
With short, hard-hitting descriptions, Deva masterfully brings to life the characters, enhancing their obnoxious traits and bringing out all their ugliest sides.
Just when we think we know which way this story is headed, Ms. Shore spins the plot around, bringing us to a surprising (yet satisfying) end.” – Editorial Review by Sandra Reynolds, Editor at the NY Literary Magazine.
Submit Your Short Story to the NY Literary Magazine
Have you written an exceptional short story? The NY Literary Magazine is now accepting unsolicited flash fiction, fiction, and non-fiction short story submissions. We invite both new, emerging writers and established international writers of all ages to submit their short stories to our literary magazine.
The NY Literary Magazine is searching for creative writers with a fresh, distinctive voice and a unique, captivating writing style. We seek remarkable stories that stand out from the rest and are enjoyable to read and memorable. Whether your short story is sad, touching, funny, or aimed at children, it must have a strong hook and a good story line.
Each writer may submit up to 5 short stories for free.
We are accepting short stories in the following genres:
As I sit in a boat afloat, I admit, through the sea of life
I saw myself without spiritual wealth,
Shipwrecked, turned and tossed, I yearned
from truth-aloof in my youth, I was lost,
On a voyage under nights-roof darkest, aloof-alone,
only stars atone with a glowing harkness,
Would, by knowing which one I should follow,
be an escape from the agape of sea and dark to swallow?
Be showing a way as I drift astray?
May the chosen star in my nightmare dream – gleam a light – beam as I pray for day,
Beaming aglow, it would brighten my dream’s darkly plight of a woeful night,
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was I to think you have to be
My life’s blood
My protector
My air
My life’s lovebeaten from your hallowed translucent shield
The pain from this will fade
Yet the bruises will remain forever and a day
