“THE HORSE DID IT!” I roared at Detective Inspector Redfern, pointing at the nervous beast in the box behind me. He rolled his eyes. The Detective Inspector, not the horse. This was my only chance to solve the murder of Beggy, the jockey, and save myself.
“You, braindead ululating crumpet! You snuck into my crime scene to – what?- brighten my sad little day up?” I kept out of his and the horse’s reach. My jaw still had vivid memories of the time he caught me good with his famous left hook, and no way I came close to that thing. Continue reading “Improbable”
The emptiness in Jack’s chest is drilling ache. The skin feels numb and knotted under his sweaty shirt. His fingertips trace the long pink scar on his breastbone.
There is no reason to rush things.
The surgeons have saved his life. He wonders if it has been worth it. They take away that weak heart. Jack imagines how they pry him open, strip him bare of that sick metronome of his past. They steal all of who he was and hoped to be. Jack’s a new man, with new life force in his groins, a new heart to match and no memories to regret. There are no memories at all. The doctors call it amnesia. Jack calls it a blank slate.
Continue reading “Heartless Jack”
The bulk of “Corona” rolled under me. My sweet little rustbucket drifted away from the denser part of the junkyard.
Nothing had “easy money” stencilled on the side, like old-timey electronics that belonged to nobody. All the gold and tantalum just sat there, so lonely. “Keeps me searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old,” I sang under my breath. Oldies were the best. Continue reading “Corona (1)”
“I admit, it was a kneejerk reaction,” John shivered. We were both nearly naked and dripping wet. The dive I took into the frozen lake was an accident, and John did his best to rescue me. He had a conscience after all. It was his fault that I broke in, in the first place. So he pulled me out, brought me back to the mansion. The blanket I had on my shoulders started itching. I hoped his itched as well. Continue reading “bruises”
First time I met consul Niishima, I was preparing tea for the European diplomats. I had that part of the embassy, the guest wing, and the lower common kitchen to myself, so I din’t bother to close any of the doors. The meeting was scheduled that early afternoon.
A tall handsome man manifested in the doorway. I nearly dropped the tray with the cups and napkins. Back then, I didn’t know who he was. I threatened to call security on him. He smirked and said he was going to steal some cakes. Continue reading “Consul”
My Norse jars through the blizzard. Last century, my words were softer, not so alien to my own ears and tongue. The night howls around me, insulating me from any suicidal hikers or locals on the trail.
The clump of ancient firs is the only peaceful place now.
As if the squalls know not to disturb the place. The red markings on the trees and the snow steam.
I call out the sentinel, curious what form it’ll assume. Continue reading “Back Home”
I ran out of luck today.
My landlord cornered me in the laundry room. I evaded him for two weeks, but not today though. “Your fucking dog keeps yapping the whole goddamned night.” He spat on my sneakers. Mr. Garbagegoblin, as I called him, was as pleasant as explosive diarrhea. I grabbed my wet shirts and stuffed them into the dryer. He stepped closer. The smell of his armpits hit me.”Shut it up! Or you’re out!” He barked into my face, breath wafting with rotten teeth and whiskey.
“But he hasn’t barked yet because he’s a good dog. Even if he’s a cat.” I tried. Continue reading “No Barking!”
MB: #1 / #2 / #3 / #5 / #6 /
See? Nothing unusual. The doctor pats me on the shoulder and goes back to the only occupied e-bed. I go through the scans of Decker’s insides, from head to toe for the hundredths time. Brooding over it won’t help. Chalk it up to delirium. Trust me. He turns and flashes a big bright smile. I’m a doctor. Continue reading “med bay snippet #4”
„Today’s the day! The day you’ve been waiting for: ‚LOSE THE KINK OR LOSE THE LIMB‘!“ A pleasant male voice booms through a bright space. Applause and deafening cheers wake Una from her slumber.
Her mouth feels fuzzy.
She doesn’t remember going to bed. Instead, she remembers doing seventy on the interstate ninety-five, just past Trenton. She is on her way to the most important test screening in her carrier. Evening news, here she comes! That job has her name written all over it. Una Hawthorn, the new face on ABWD.
Continue reading “lose the kink or lose the limb”
John and Benny dive simultaneously behind the blue Chesterfield, knocking over a marble-topped mahogany coffee table. Around them, bullets smack into the eggshell colored wall. With two loud thuds they land ungracefully. Stucco decoration rains down on them.
„I’m too old for this kind of crap!“ John grunts grabbing his revolver and the bag full with money.
„You have no right to open your idiocy vent!“ A bullet sings past Peter’s left ear. „Ever! Again!“ He grits his teeth, and peeks around the bits of the sofa. Ammo eats at the wooden floor boards, as he retreats.
The splinters jump, like popcorn on a hot stove.
Continue reading “moving in circles”