The NY Literary Magazine

A Distinguished Selection of the Finest Modern Literature


Stories About Life and Death

Divorce Would Have Been Easier – Short Fiction Story by Deva Shore

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.
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God, I Couldn’t Blame You by Spencer Ratcliff

Dear God, I know I’ve never been to church and never read your book
I know I never stop to pray;
never know just what to say
and really don’t deserve a second look

I frankly couldn’t blame you if you turned your ears away
But while you know of all my doubt,
I ask you please to hear me out;
give me the time of day

You see, there’s been an accident, as if you didn’t know
My little girl is almost dead;
she’s in a coma and they’ve said
they’ll tie a tag around her toe

They brought her in by chopper just after half past nine
They chalked her out upon the tar,
gave her lots of CPR
to try and keep her hanging on the line

The vicar’s been; he held my hand and quietly had a word
He told me that I must be strong,
to talk to you, admit I’m wrong
and hope my voice is heard

He placed a cross upon her brow and whispered in her ear
He spoke in Latin, shut his eyes,
talked of how a body dies,
uttered words I didn’t want to hear

She’s lying there with tubes plugged into heart and chest and head
Golden hair surrounds her face,
her favourite doll stands by in case
she stays alive instead

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