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Vol. 2, Issue 5 -- ISSN 1939-8514
7.20.08
Doctor Mitchell Ross sliced the skin overlying the left pectoral muscle - first from the left shoulder to the xyphoid process and then with another smooth cut split a deep gash from the right shoulder, connecting the other gash at the xyphoid. He continued the incision down the midline, carving a path around the umbilicus to the pubic bone, ending up with a crude “Y” gouged into the front of Javier Santana’s dead body.
Dead Stuffed Mule by Glenn Gray
When the last wisp of the marijuana in her cigarette was burned up she butted it out on the black knot of his coffee table. She then pinched the stub between thumb and forefinger and placed it carefully on the middle of her tongue, chewing and swallowing the evidence with obvious care. She always put her cigarettes out on the same knot in the lower left corner of the table, but only ate the ones with grass. Marijuana was forbidden, but Mark refused to fight with her over the usual rollies; he was battle hardened and picked his arenas.
Fires by Samuel Cooney
Karen was thirteen when it happened. A man with wavy blonde hair driving a silver blue Camry took her away. Nine days and twelve hours later she was rescued by two police officers, and her mother said it was the best happy ending anyone could wish for. Like a princess in a fairy tale was exposed to terrible danger and snatched away in the nick of time. She felt the dragon’s breath on her creamy white shoulders, but escaped from his lair unharmed. This is how her mother liked to think of it and Karen never said anything to contradict her.
Happy Endings by Adrienne Clarke
Frank poked through the spice rack until he found salt. He shook a pinch into his hand and then dumped it into the water. "My mother always said salt helped the water boil faster. What do I know? I don't suppose it can hurt."
Hardboiled by Stephen D. Rogers
From around a gnarled truck, the shadows pulled away revealing a young man wearing a battered helmet and holding a hatchet like a club. He stood there allowing the huntsman to see him. After a moment, he stepped to the side and an even younger woman wearing an oversized fox-skinned cloak approached the edge of the firelight with an unearthly grace. Under the cloak, she wore a deerskin dress; tattered and dirtied along the hem. Wisps of blond hair shadowed her face.
Intertwining Tales by Timothy P. Remp
“So…what’s the plan?” Crystal asked. She had shed her makeshift cover, and was now hovering between the bathroom and the back door – close enough to hear him whisper, but far enough to run to safety, should the occasion arise.
One Unique Shit by Christopher Allan Death
Driving up to visit his mama, Riley looked like a giant baby sitting in a steaming pile of his own shit. No matter how many times he tried surprising himself in the rearview mirror of his Chevy, his face had that same embarrassed, uncomfortable expression.
The Life of Riley by Brian Beatty
She woke in a heap of garbage, only able to raise her head, barely able to breathe. Her ribs were splintered, puncturing one, maybe both lungs. The heavy darkness wheezed in and out of her. Blood trickled down her throat, choking her into a fit of involuntary spasms. Warmth seeped from between her legs, soaking her torn and filthy skirt. One eye was black and blue, swollen shut, but the other blinked back tears.
The Whistler by Brandi Jenkins
Downhearted and dejected, Harvey walked into the police station. He knew the moment he told them what he’d done, they’d book him. The trial would be swift. The jury would find him guilty. And he’d be executed for his horrible crime. He shuddered. But deep inside he knew it was the right thing to do. No sense trying to hide it.
Woman Without the Red Dress by Michael A. Kechula
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