The True Monster

You’re passing a court house and a screaming man is being pulled from a police car. He pulls his arm free and points at you.
“You did it and I’m coming for you – dead or alive “.

I got out of my car, closing the door and leaning back against the frame. My glasses were a little greasy, so I pulled them off, cleaning them, then set them back on my face to watch a man being dragged into the courtroom. “You did it!” He screamed at me across the street. “You did it and I’m coming for you, dead or alive!”

There’d be peace, now. No more late-night parties. No more band practices. No more listening to the headboard crashing against the wall after he brought some prostitute home. We all complained about him, the entire building, but nobody ever did anything. The landlord didn’t care, as long as the rent was paid on time.

In the end, it was easy. Continue reading “The True Monster”

Serial Saviour

Sixteen years ago you caused an accident that left 12 people dead. At first you weren’t able to live with what you had done but now you’re glad it happened, it helped you find your calling. You have become the most notorious serial killer of all time. 

Intimate Moments

When you make eye contact with someone who’s death is near, their life flashes before your eyes.

Original

I walked into the metal room, and the steel door swung shut behind me. The voice was raw, exhausted, accented, muffled beneath a black bag over his head.

“Who is there?”

In silence, I walked to the single chair as the door locked, and locked, and locked again. My shoes clicked on the floor as I circled him. His shirt was bloodied, torn. The bloodstains were pale pink, evidence that they had tried waterboarding, too.  His teeth and nails were unmarred, but if they’d had time to exhaust every avenue, they wouldn’t have called me. Continue reading “Intimate Moments”

Shooting Stars

You live in a world where you have three names printed on your wrist – your one true friend, one true love, and one true enemy. But only one name is printed on your wrist.

Ripped Off

You are an assassin. A little girl has just come up to you, handed you all her pocket money and asked you to kill her abusive relative.

Original

“Kid . . . how did you find me?”

She looked up at me, eyes wide and intent, never once lowering the fistful of bills. She wore a blue dress and sandals with Miss Piggy printed on them. A seashell hung on a thong around her neck. She had a black eye, and bruises on her neck and arms. On one shoulder I could read the shape of a belt buckle in the bruising. She couldn’t have been more than twelve.

“My dad has a book of names. Your name was circled AND underlined under ‘cleaner.’ ”

“You didn’t locate me with just a name.”

“Welllll . . . there was another name that said ‘finder.’ She was good at finding you.”

I put a hand over my face. Marigold would take an assignment from anybody. This kid would be dog meat when her dad got the bill. Continue reading “Ripped Off”

Grim Garden

How does the grim reaper react to the zombie apocalypse?

Original

I looked over the world with frustration and resignation.

I didn’t really look, of course.  I observed from every eye, heard through every ear.  Every insect and squirrel, even from the eyes of every human alive, I watched the world.  I tasted the soil from the roots of every tree and scented the water from the nares of every fish.  Secrets were not safe from me unless they were safe from life itself. Or . . . unlife.

Continue reading “Grim Garden”

Deadly Lens

A psychopathic serial killer falls in love with a beautiful, sexy mind reader

Original

Soon I would have to struggle home from work. It was the hardest part, the walk home. My job kept me alone in front of a dozen monitors, watching empty halls at night. It was a lonely job, but it kept me safe, insulated from the abrasive buzzing of humanity.

There were my coworkers, of course. My relief would arrive soon.  Funny word, that.  ‘Relief’. Those hours alone, they were the purest, most relaxing hours of my day. Then Josh showed up.  His mind was full of whatever woman he was wooing at the time. Lust whined constantly, and his pride was like the squeak of a thumb on a clean plate, never ending. He’d made progress with someone if it was this loud.

He’d never actually told me of his conquests. He was actually something of a gentleman in that regard.  It should seem odd that someone so consumed with sex and the pursuit of sex should be a gentleman in any way, but I knew human nature too intimately to be surprised.  When you understood people well enough, you came to realize that the contradictions within a human are what made them…human.

Continue reading “Deadly Lens”