A place where
great stories are born

Learn more Take me there!

What is it all about?

Hello and welcome to the Inky Cave, a fancy place for both, readers and writers, to join each other and seek for inspiration. It is where the great fiction stories are born and get published bianually as a digital magazine.


Carefully selected short fiction stories in various genres and styles. Each issue with its own feel and atmosphere. And full of surprises!


Authors from various places across the globe, different backgrounds and experiences makes the magazine even more interesting.

Fresh minds

The Inky Cave is aspiring writers-friendly. You may never know what you are going to discover here. Your new favorite author, maybe?

Sneak peak into newest issue

Though the night was cool and bathed in muted light, Ga’chunk was burning like fire. The hunger was worse now, far worse than it had ever felt. Ga’chunk was ravenous, pulsing with anger as it wandered a narrow street. It turned and bubbled and boiled in on itself, suffusing the area with the smell of burning meat. Ga’chunk could not stand it. Would not stand it any longer. The last of its will had vanished and now the Hunt was real. profile-photoSeth Solmes
“Come into the light.”
He did as he was told, nudging his horse forward with his knees. He hoped this was where he could stop running. Running from his past and running from his thoughts. That he’d be accepted into this gathering. He would know within the next few minutes. profile-photoCathy Skendrovich
The cricket didn’t move. Out of pure malice, Will raised his foot, steadied and brought it down hard on the cement. So hard it stung his big toe through the thick sole of his sneaker. When he lifted to see the horror of it all, there was nothing.
Impossible. profile-photoJeffrey M. Thompson Jr.
The sounds mingled together in his brain, multiplied many-fold, and grew to a deafening, painful crescendo inside of his head. He could hear his heart beating, to the point of bursting, just above the cacophony. Unable to silence the din, Ben dropped the book he was trying to read, jammed his palms against his ears, jumped bolt upright from his recliner, and shouted, “Nooooooooo!” profile-photoMike Murphy
I am perfectly balanced. Plump in all the right places, curved to the proper dimensions, just tall enough to be cradled comfortably in her small cold hands, and the perfect weight. My handle bulges out with a sense of belonging, a natural extension of my bellowed shape, covered with a vine of red and yellow flowers that winds its way effortlessly and elegantly down the handle. profile-photoDiane Hall
Legend says York used to be a magnificent city once upon a time ago, but the sight that greeted him now was little more than a garbage dump politely disguising itself as society. Dozens of people passed him by with their heads down, scurrying to home before curfew struck. profile-photoTabitha Witherspoon
"Scalpel", he extended his hand to the assisting nurse. The nurse had to give the right equipment at the right time. They could not accommodate any mistakes. Surgery was a matter of life and death. At once, the nurse gave the doctor the requested scalpel and he went ahead with the transplant operation that at times made his hands clammy and face sweaty. The nurse had to keep mopping his face. profile-photoJames Nduati Charagu
Death comes to us all sooner or later. The world is full of people with an intent to keep on living. They trade half their selves away, becoming lesser versions of themselves with each transaction. They live longer while they have less of a life. No wonder they can’t imagine why someone would take their own life. profile-photoLian Dousel
A horn blared, pulling my attention back to the road and the car back to its own lane. My purse spilled open with the sudden swerve, but I ignored the impulse to reach for it on the opposite floorboard. The driver sped by, extended his arm out the window and flipped me off. profile-photoVicki Roberts
It was one of the easier places to fly to in downtown Chicago, since it was high enough to avoid traffic from teleporters and from people who used weather disturbances like tornados and ice flows to get around. Downtown traffic had been awful back when people used cars. But now that almost everyone had superpowers, it was ridiculous. profile-photoJim O'Loughlin

Get the magazine!

Inky Cave cover