{"id":88,"date":"2020-01-12T23:04:04","date_gmt":"2020-01-12T23:04:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/gabriellecontelmo.wordpress.com\/?page_id=88"},"modified":"2026-06-01T15:10:41","modified_gmt":"2026-06-01T19:10:41","slug":"short-stories-2","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/gabriellecontelmo.com\/?page_id=88","title":{"rendered":"Short Stories"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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First published in The Razor<\/em>
June 1, 2026<\/em> with a very cool audio narration and custom art!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Drive up to the front of this gorgeous lakeside cabin and imagine your future! Admire the weathered cedar shakes, that quintessential New England silver you\u2019ve been dreaming about since your honeymoon on the shores of Lake Winnipesaukee. Lying on the cool, uneven planks of that private dock, you pointed out the thin streak of light that cut across the Milky Way. With a stunning lakeside cabin of your own, your silent wish might finally come true.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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First published in HOPE: The Thing with Feathers Anthology
August 2, 2025<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took the stairs. I didn\u2019t want to risk the elevator in case the grid failed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I jumped down the last three steps to the fifth-floor landing, braids slapping sharply against my upper back, and used my momentum to shove open the heavy fire door. It was probably stupid to stop on every floor. I should have been fleeing like the rest of the city.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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First published in What Lurks: A Cryptid Anthology<\/em>
August 29, 2025<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I don’t think we should stop here, Maddie,” Shirley says, peering into the darkness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What do you want me to do, drive to the next town on a flat?” I snap, shutting the car off. The rushing sound of the corn enters through the open windows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Reprinted in NECKSNAP Magazine<\/em> Issue 0<\/em>
November 2024<\/em>
First Published in Potato Soup Journal<\/em>
August 2022<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

On a muggy spring afternoon, the clouds sense a secret is about to be discovered. They crowd low, peering over a verdant bog. The sound of a pickaxe falls in a rhythmic swish-thump. The axeman\u2019s worry rises like perfume.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another woman was taken yesterday. The clouds hadn\u2019t been in attendance, but they know the axeman\u2019s sister was there, and that she looked away for only a second. All that remained of her friend was the basket spilling red, glistening berries onto the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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(Click to page 11 of the PDF) <\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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First published in 3Elements Literary Review<\/em>
May 1, 2023<\/em>
Nominated for a Puschart Prize<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Poppy pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to squeeze out the final image of the dream (his hands, reaching for her). It repeated a thousand times over as if reflected between two mirrors. Hands, teeth, dark, dark eyes. The same, but different every time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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(Click to page 15 of the PDF)<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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First published in Grim & Gilded<\/em>
February 2023<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I read a story once, where the main character turned into a cockroach. As my classmates argued about allegories and the unbearable weight of banality, I doodled a bug in my notebook. The story made no sense at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the yellow light of the bathroom\u2019s naked bulb, an overturned cockroach wiggled feeble legs. \u201cI feel ya,\u201d I mumbled through toothpaste foam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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No one ever returned. None before. None after. Just him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Until now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A figure exploded from the edge of the forest, scattering twigs and scraps of mist. Donafel let out a sharp breath, a plume of condensation. Ghostly antlers crowned the figure\u2019s head and, for a moment, the familiar terror gripped him. But no\u2014the antlers were merely the crisscross of branches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Cool air slinks between the blankets, startling goosebumps from my skin. Tarek must have opened the window sometime in the night. I reach across the bed, expecting to feel his warm, bare shoulder. My hand meets cooling sheets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the nightstand, my phone buzzes and I jolt. The sound claws away the hush of the apartment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I pick it up, it vibrates again. My gut twists: something isn\u2019t right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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First published in The RazorJune 1, 2026 with a very cool audio narration and custom art! Drive up to the front of this gorgeous lakeside cabin and imagine your future! Admire the weathered cedar shakes, that quintessential New England silver you\u2019ve been dreaming about since your honeymoon on the shores of Lake Winnipesaukee. Lying on […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_themeisle_gutenberg_block_has_review":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-88","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gabriellecontelmo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/88","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gabriellecontelmo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gabriellecontelmo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gabriellecontelmo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gabriellecontelmo.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=88"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/gabriellecontelmo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/88\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1820,"href":"https:\/\/gabriellecontelmo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/88\/revisions\/1820"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gabriellecontelmo.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=88"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}