The Magazine of Bethlehem Writers Group

Happy Autumn, dear readers! Wishing you a vibrant season with many opportunities for warmth and comfort! Since I returned to Pennsylvania from my summer in Las Vegas, I had been looking forward to …

Lunar Connection The original cover from 1967 I grew up reading science fiction, following in my father’s footsteps, since he was a fan of the genre. As an adult, I have branched out to other genre…

An Interview with . . . author Christopher D. Abbott Christopher D. Abbott is a Reader’s Favorite award-winning author of crime, fantasy, science-fiction, and horror. With over 35 books published, …

The Legend of Four Winds Butte by D. T. Krippene 1905 Two prospectors tied their mules to a bush at the base of a tall butte perched on top of a desert mountain. “Hey, Sammy,” Jack asked, out of br…

(Honorable Mention, 2025 BWR Short Story Award) Paolo Alteri gasped and leaned against the Rialto Bridge’s southern balustrade. He reeled with a sudden dizziness, running a trembling hand through h…

(Honorable Mention, 2025 BWR Short Story Award) Alto was not having a good day, though not many had been since his Master forced him to work for a magic delivery app to get some “perspective.” Alto felt the entire thing was dumb and frankly beneath him. When Alto found out he had magic, he thought he would be working at a high-end Mage Academy, or a major firm, like Merlin’s Mastery. His Master had other ideas. Apparently, Alto was “not ready” and “too immature.” So here he was, doing gig work for tips like a street magician.

(Honorable Mention, 2025 BWR Short Story Award) The Kind Who Soar and The Kind Who Weave weren’t always so different. Before there were legs for climbing and wings for flying, there were just thoughts for thinking. Therein dichotomy commenced. We developed eight tiny eyes, well-suited for scrutiny. The other kind couldn’t resist attempting to take everything in, all at once. Their greed earned them two enormous eyes instead. Just like that, two different thoughts evolved into two opposing worldviews. Over many lifetimes, our differences and animosities grew. But The Kind Who Soar went too far when they claimed the skies on incandescent wings, and we never forgave them.

(Honorable Mention, 2025 BWR Short Story Award)  Milt Wurtzman didn’t think anything of it when he saw Larry Gaines’ boat missing from the dock the day he disappeared. It was just past dawn on a Sunday morning in September, when the trout in Mahoney Creek were revving up to spawn and ready to lunge for anything that looked like food. And this particular morning was perfect for fishing—air crisp but not too cold, a low overhang of clouds threatening rain, and the Steelers didn’t play until four. Plenty of time to get in a few hours on the water and get anything he caught ready to throw on the grill at Donnie Puett’s house when he went over to watch the game.

By Any Other Name Kilmeny MacMichael Irina’s roses should cascade over her garden wall. Only, while she was out, someone came and tore the flowers to pieces. When Irina reached to rescue what remai…

By Any Other Name Kilmeny MacMichael Irina’s roses should cascade over her garden wall. Only, while she was out, someone came and tore the flowers to pieces. When Irina reached to rescue what remained, a hidden thorn pierced her finger. Still, she gathered a bouquet from the savaged vines, took them inside. Her mother claimed to know nothing about their destructive visitors.

The Magazine of Bethlehem Writers Group

by Andrew Rucker Jones In an upscale Chinese restaurant—the kind with two stone lions flanking the entrance, dragons weaving up the columns, and a decorative fish tank bubbling insinuations of wealth—in the private function room before twenty pairs of eyes, the guests of honor called the Hispanic waiter, who called the Chinese owner. The guests of honor, Finlay and Eloise, spoke their wedding vows twenty-five years ago today, and Finlay would not celebrate his wife with beer.

Walk me through your cave show me the petroglyphs the stories you have laboriously pecked on the walls with your hammer stone, carved in the light of a lantern where shadows cast gloom.

What books kicked off your love of reading? Welcome to my Quarter Day's post! If you're a fan of A Slice of Orange, I have to assume you love books and you love reading. How did your romance with books get started? This topic came up in a recent discussion in the Belles Brigade Facebook Group. My first book binge was the…

The painter stares at the canvas waiting for an image to appear. Patiently, he waits until a faint imprint of a landscape or a face emerges. He then grabs a brush and dabs it into the paint on his palette, making haste to reach the canvas with his brush to capture the image.

I can’t think of a better way to welcome Spring and celebrate Earth Day than with a new book, especially one about nature and the earth, and following after Women’s History Month.

I am but dust a grain of sand blowing whichever way the wind blows in the universe

The accountant opened the folder and skimmed the stack of documents it contained. A W-2, 1099s, receipts, investment summaries, it was all there, Annie hoped. Matt always left it up to her to compile the papers needed before they sat down with Tom, their CPA. Her business was laden with supply orders, customer invoices, and back-end pay-outs. Matt worked in analytical statistics for a pharma company: salary, health insurance, 401(K), easy-peasy.

“Why don’t you write about it?” my therapist said. It sounded cliche. Trying to process what had just happened through writing felt like trying to bail out a sinking cruise ship with a thimble.

by Marianne H. Donley I don’t have The Shopping Gene. I hate shopping. Honestly. I would rather iron wrinkled cotton pleated skirts. I would rather have a tooth pulled without drugs. All right. All…

BWG is seeking never-published stories of 2,500 words or fewer on the theme of Speculative Fiction. The contest deadline is April 30, 2025.