First there was sound; after sound, light.
And it hadn’t realized it could not hear until it did; that as the machine continued to dig it came to know what the sound of digging was. Breathing too, as well as grunts from hefting. Words—mention of a septic tank and new irrigation flows; that this was the spot; this, no other.
Sitting in the darkness of the car parallel parked beside a row of sleazy porno shops. The interior of the car occasionally lit up by the flashing monstrosity of a neon sign advertising Nina’s Peek-a-Boobs strip club. Two men. Both draped in heavy over coats and wearing thin leather gloves. Both staring into the night. Each looking in a different direction down an empty street and an empty sidewalk.
It wasn’t love and I knew it all along. I bought a lie and it lay like a faded scar in my dreams. I used to see its silhouette in her veiled cyanic eyes. Faith. You know the kind of dark shadow that falls across your semi-waking mind in the night as you push consciousness away.
“Gannon, where have you been? Last I knew you and Leary were in the bakery business. I expected that the two of you would hang out a sign. Ya know, something like “Crooked Cookies” or “Burglarized Brownies” with menu items like “Do a Short Stretch with Our Strudel” or “Get Busted on Our Bagels”. Rumor had it that you guys had some pretty intense brownies and Continue reading Brownie by Charlie Coleman
“FREE SAMPLE! FREE SAMPLE!” the Japanese woman yelled while hoisting a plastic fork in the air, spiked with Orange Chicken from the take-out window of Grill X. Faxon was a sucker for their Orange Chicken, but it would have been even better if it were free sushi. Free was free he thought, and who was he to complain? He moved swiftly toward the window. The woman leaned out, smiled warmly, and gave up the fork. As Faxon walked away smacking his lips, she called out “OH! Don’t forget free fortune, today only, here your cookie!” Faxon Continue reading Fateopia by John McNeeley
“Wanna know why I like guns?” Jared shouted. “Because I pull the trigger here, and something happens over there.”
Kevin thumbed fat copper cartridges into the throat of the chubby black magazine. The men both wore large ear protectors that made them resemble ’70s radio DJs.