“Kakure Kirishitan: Our Sacred Oribe” by David Ryan
POETRY: “Hundreds dead outside our garden…Fear marks our quiet burden….”
Read More “Kakure Kirishitan: Our Sacred Oribe” by David RyanRetreats from Oblivion: The Journal of NoirCon
Noir, crime, and mystery short stories, scholarship, and so much more
POETRY: “Hundreds dead outside our garden…Fear marks our quiet burden….”
Read More “Kakure Kirishitan: Our Sacred Oribe” by David RyanThrough our GoFundMe campaign, we seek to raise $5000 to cover costs for a virtual platform for our 2022 conference. Any funds raised beyond that will go towards future NoirCon events. Donations of any size will guarantee access to the 2022 NoirCon (limited to the first 400 contributors).
Read More Help NoirCon Return in 2022FICTION: “I still wear my dog tags. They remind me of who I am, or was…. No one can see the damage but me.”
Read More “Tenderloin” by Steve CarrINTERVIEW: “Thrillers are more complicated because there’s a lot more variation – many more sub-genres…. All the plots have much in common, but they all have distinct features that readers or film viewers demand – the genre conventions or tropes. Many writers don’t realise how important these are….”
Read More Nuts and Bolts to the Eight Steps: Paul Tomlinson on Writing the Crime ThrillerNOVEL EXCERPT: “You like her, huh?”….“Just looking,” he said. “Do you know her?”
Read More “Kitty at the Window” by Barry GiffordPOETRY: “She’ll keep things swift, dialed up…as they want it….”
Read More “She Walks” by Matthew SorrentoPOETRY: “The pit of fire in me was right there with death….”
Read More “Geek” by Matthew SorrentoPOETRY: “And I would kill for him, still would, ever since we met….”
Read More “The Girlfriend Problem” by Matthew SorrentoPulling up carefully on the latch handle, Jack Winslow stepped out of his Chevy Impala onto the lonely tree-lined street. The intense rain and wind would cover most sounds, but he was careful not to allow the low-register thump of his car door to cut through the din. Repossessing a motorcycle in the middle of […]
Read More “The Coming Storm” by D. V. BennettThat summer in Oxnard was hot, humid in the mornings, with dew on the grass, and it smelled of the lima bean harvest and the sugarbeet mill out on Wooley Road. Now it was night, just on nine o’clock under a low, lemon moon, and Chuy Muro, in his ’39 Chevy coupe, was pulling across […]
Read More “Border Feud” by Lance Mason