Short Stories

V isha screwed the silencer onto her Glock-19 and rested its tip on the SUV’s steering wheel. She aimed past the windshield and fixed her sights on Igor’s forehead. Visha wore all black: her lean jumpsuit, boots, gloves, and a scarf that concealed a shock of blond hair. Everything was black. Igor would never spot […]

I   magine Genesis, order from disorder.         I sat on the sun-warmed tarmac with seventeen other female prisoners waiting to board a transport named Eagle of Peace. Ironic name for a sinister-looking vessel, which reminded me of something cobbled together by a mad scientist using mismatched nuts and bolts. But the

Y ou do this man, we crew, yeah?” I nod, but it’s lost in the shake that has taken hold of me. I try to speak, but the drum and bass beat of the car radio batters my heart into a rhythm. I grip the steering, feeling my knuckles blanch.          “We

O   n my desk, nestled among the chess pieces I use for paperweights, is a To Do list with a single entry.         Plan Life         This should mean that sometime today I’ll be doing whatever such a note is meant to imply. It should mean that, but,

“…Travellers ne’er did lie,  though fools at home condemn them.” (William Shakespeare: The Tempest; Act 3, Scene 3) D aphne and Ari pulled up at the recharging station next to Conway Convenience Store. She said, “While you charge her up, I’ll pop in for an iced peppermint cone. D’ya want one?”        

O ne day after writing a blogpost reviewing a movie, I was sent a cease and desist letter in the mail. It explained that I’d used too many exclamation points in a piece of “published writing” that I hadn’t paid for. They included an address where I could pay for eight out of eleven exclamation

T he first smiting we saw was Trevor Wolfson on the local weather channel. His job was mostly to point at the radar and look polished. Then he was smashed in front of everyone, just like that.            The whole town saw it, too, because that day, a satellite storm spun

G ood morning, it’s nine o’clock. You’re listening to BBC Radio Ulster. The headlines: A soldier has been shot dead in an IRA ambush on the streets of Belfast. Elsewhere in the province, a bomb attack has resulted in significant damage to a telecommunications mast in County Armagh. A man and a woman have been

“Goodnight sweet prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”                     William Shakespeare; ‘Hamlet’ Act 5, scene 2 O nce upon a time, in the ancient land of Erin, there lived a warrior chieftain of gigantic stature. His name was Finn McCool. It is