Linguistic Erosion is a fiction journal and part of Thunderune Publishing's free fiction lineup. Though this magazine is currently closed to submissions, you can still read some great stories in the archives by picking an author name from the drop down menu on the right or by picking a date from the menu (also on the right.) - -...

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Contributor: Chris Sharp - - Melanie was the sixth woman Tony took seriously enough to introduce to Mother.  Tony reminded himself that these select maternal meetings never came close to representing his active social life. He would date dozens of women in a year before a “mother meeting” came up. Tony reminded himself that Melanie differed from the other demure women he introduced to Mother.  Melanie was playful.  Mother extended her serious greeting hand, and Melanie prance-stepped toward it.  There had also been the feeling of a bounce in Melanie’s step earlier that afternoon, when Tony had taken her to Yankee Stadium to watch the Yankees.  She wanted to twice go to the Stadium canteen for more Pepsi and hot dogs so Tony could watch her bubbling up the steps.  When the fans leaving the stadium crowded...

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Author: Chris Sharp

Contributor: Rebecca Welch - - Rain tapped on the windshield, provoking the wipers to come alive. The persistent swoosh of the blades, combined with the beads of water falling in rhythm, created a song. I allowed nature's music to enter my thoughts and let it attempt to soothe the confusion I felt inside. Why was that car in front of our house? Why do we have to stay somewhere else tonight? From the back seat, I looked up into the rearview mirror at my mother's face. She smiled but lines of worry and fear were etched along her eyes. I knew something was wrong. I just couldn’t figure out what it could possibly be or who. “Mom, where are we going?” I asked. “Honey, don’t be afraid, ok? We’re just going to stay with Uncle Mike tonight, that’s all,” she replied. Uncle Mike lived just outside of town in a rundown two-bedroom house. He...

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Author: Rebecca Welch

Contributor: Christopher W. Trotter - - I lived above all, illuminating the darkness. I provided the gift of sight, but sight alone. I held off the shadows that pushed people down the stairs, saving them from pain and embarrassment. For a year I worked in secret. I guided each stranger that passed under me in the small stairwell. I served from morning to dusk. I would get so hot that I’d burn you on touch, but I would labor on. Only at dusk would I be given the right to sleep, a short time to cool off before starting the cycle again. No one asked if I wanted that job. I was simply born for the job, cursed from the beginning to work for others. No one told me what the job was. I just got screwed into the ceiling and was left there. Who would have chosen this? I was never thanked for my work. Most never knew I existed. One year a slave...

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Author: Christopher W. Trotter

Contributor: Blake Hulsey - - Lucifer stepped into Yahweh's court escorted by an angel. As he reached the throne room, Lucifer eyed his associate. "I have a proposal for you, Yahweh." Yahweh shifted on his throne. "Go on, Lucifer. What possible proposal do you have to give me?" Lucifer gave a ghoulish smile. "Been checking out your follower, Job. Pretty cool guy. He sticks close to your commandments and never falters in prayer." Yahweh bowed his head. "He is the best servant I have in my name. Why do you keep such watch on him?" "You ever wonder if he only worships you because he has it so good? You have him spoiled, dear Father. You really think he would worship you if tragedy had befallen him?" Yahweh pondered for a moment. "I suppose he would. I don't think he would turn from my grace." "Wanna make a bet?" "What are your terms,...

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Author: Blake Hulsey

Contributor: John Laneri - - Luigi’s is a small, romantic restaurant, featuring candlelight and good food. I live only a few blocks away in North Beach. And tonight, I’m meeting Maria. While waiting, I order a bottle of wine, and soon, I see her step inside the door. She hurries to me. We embrace warmly, her body pressing mine. It's her way of saying that she's already feeling romantic. Once seated, we catch up on the previous weeks, glad to be together. I tell her about my work collecting money for the family. She talks about her job at the bank. And soon, she begins to relate happy stories about her nieces and nephews, their schools and activities. But then for no reason, I see her start fidgeting like a schoolgirl, her fingers rearranging the silverware – put the fork here, move the knife there. So, I begin to think that maybe...

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Author: John Laneri

Contributor: Amanda Cuevas Arrubarena - - A week ago, Sylvia called to tell me Frank Heisenberg passed away. “I knew you were friends,” she said, “so I thought you should know.” I didn’t tell her that I already knew, that I waved goodbye to him that very morning. Instead, I asked, “How did it happen?” “Heart attack. The police say he didn’t even feel it,” Sylvia said. “Surprisingly, nothing happened to the car.” “Yeah, nothing ever happens to that car,” I said, walking toward the bedroom window. I pushed the plastic blinds away and peeked outside, where that old Cadillac waited in front of Frank’s house. That’s where I saw him this morning, standing as proud as always beside his car. He waved goodbye before getting in the Cadillac, but the engines never roared and the car remained empty inside. “He left it to you, you know?” Sylvia...

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Author: Amanda Cuevas Arrubarena