The white house was spacious, well-adorned, and beautiful, but they made Lily live under the stairs. Her family said it was her fault. She’d been damningly different from her beginning. When she brought in the little bird who’d fallen from… Continue Reading
Shotgun in hand, I inch toward the contorted deer. Behind me, breath reeking of whiskey, Pa hisses, “It’s suffering, boy. Put it out of its misery.” I rest my cheek against the stock and aim the barrel at the buck,… Continue Reading
Abbie rose from the couch when she heard the key rattle in the lock and the thump of Troy’s boots hitting the floor. It was two in the morning. Troy staggered into their apartment, mumbling a slurred story about pub… Continue Reading
Tom saw the smirk approaching. There was no way to avoid it. Worse still, it was spread across the face of Conor. If ever a snigger or sneer needed removing with the back of a hand, it would belong to… Continue Reading
I never understood crimes of opportunity until I was on that bus. It curved through the cheaper part of the city, a rundown place where even the roaches quivered at the footsteps of pedestrians. We passed in and out of… Continue Reading
10 MINUTES Walk in the front door. It hurts more than usual today. Apparently, when they leave the bullet in your leg, the pain comes and goes. Doctor said something about my femoral artery when he told me why they… Continue Reading
Ben Taylor was the sort of man who thought nothing of killing another with an unannounced shot from behind. Further, he knew his reputation as just such a man preceded him. He knew he’d probably meet his fate the same… Continue Reading
Carina, darling, Someday you will want to know why. People will ask you: What was I like? Was I weird? Forgetting that you were only three and cannot be expected to remember your father. I cannot write to you because… Continue Reading
Daphne Mills, the sexton at St. Elijah’s Church, parked her white Ford van in front of the lych-gate. She opened the rear doors of the vehicle and manoeuvred a wheelbarrow out the back. Inside it she placed large swatches of… Continue Reading
Frieda Jacobson drives west on I-80, her ten-year-old son Ron in the back. “Daddy gonna meet us at our new home?” Frieda lowers the visor of her small Chevy coupe against the glare of the setting sun. “Nope, and you… Continue Reading