Watch it all go fiery, pieces dropping out of the sky. Ten seconds ago, it was a jet. Nine seconds ago, I happened. Now the jet’s all explodey and shit raining down all over the countryside. Fuck ‘em. They’ve been bombing us for years, decades. Who gives a shit if I just took $300 million out of play? They’ll have two more flying overhead in an hour. I’ll be ready. Fiery is my job.
Tag Archives: crime fiction
Crime Tip by Bruce Harris
The only thing worse than a thug is a copycat thug.
The Emperor’s Old Clothes by Paul D. Brazill
‘It is a truth universally acknowledged,’ said Philly Bailey, crushing his lager can, ‘That all Jane Austen needed was a bloody good shag.’
Continue reading The Emperor’s Old Clothes by Paul D. Brazill
Killer Heels by Michael A. Gonzales
Other people’s success always made M. drink way too much. Weaving slightly as he walked across the hard wood floor, he felt each of the three dirty martinis he’d gulped within the hour of arriving at his friend David’s book party. The restaurant was already crowded, and a few folks stood outside in the spring coolness smoking cigarettes and chatting. Years ago, the rowdy bar where he unsteadily stood was he and David’s former hangout spot the Saloon, a place where once the crew of beauty queen waitresses who worked there were required to wear roller skates. M. often journeyed to the restaurant on 64th and Broadway from his Harlem hood to meet dates for Sunday brunch. Continue reading Killer Heels by Michael A. Gonzales
Burnt Film by Justin Hawthorne
“For Ethan”
I sat in the back of that bus, chained to the seat like an animal. 25 years to life. I remember the way the words fell out of his lips. He seemed so angry about it. His voice was powerful and biblical and his Continue reading Burnt Film by Justin Hawthorne
WHITE GULL by Richard Godwin
*Reader’s discretion advised! – This tale of caddish skullduggery and murder contains scenes of a particularly violent nature. A strong stomach shall be necessary. You have been warned – your beloved Editor*
I have written this journal for posterity and with the strict intention of disclosing to future historians the identity of the man who became known as Jack the Ripper. The common press, both fallible and corrupt, painted a picture that I will not let remain the final word on the identity of the killer. And while what I am writing here is both a confessional and a narrative account of sorts, it is ultimately a challenge to those who believe they can determine events whose nature lies outside their sphere of experience. Continue reading WHITE GULL by Richard Godwin
Best Buddies, Worst Friends by Bill Tucker
When you’re standing on the edge of a twenty story rooftop, the world below is beautiful.
Every Move You Make by Sonia Kilvington
“It’s difficult,” she muttered nervously.
“In your own good time,” replied Declan as graciously as he could on a very dull Monday morning, to an equally dull looking client, who was already testing his patience.
Seven Minutes To Midnight By Paul D. Brazill
Hinkson’s tired, dog tired, but he can’t fall asleep. Can’t let himself drift off into the warm, comforting womb of his unconscious. It’s seven minutes to midnight and the brothers will be here at the witching hour, for sure. Same as last night and the previous night.
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Ham On Heels by Graham Wynd
Tyler Fitzgerald threw himself down at the bar, sweating profusely. “Gimme a whisky.” Seeing the bartender’s scowl he added, “please.”
PULP METAL MAGAZINE 