short fiction
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Logically, he knew everything that was in that closet. Everything that was on the floor in the shadow where the night light didn’t touch. He knew every inch of that laminate flooring leading to that closet. His window was locked. The front and back door were locked. His mom was fast asleep just down the…
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He hated wearing the tux, which hugged him in all the wrong places. He hated her being the star of the evening. He hated her picture on Page Six of The Post, even though his press agent had planted it. He hated the stupid show and certainly wasn’t thrilled watching other men look at what…
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Find us on Venice Beach, on Santa Monica, on Hermosa. We’ve smiled at you on Manhattan Beach, our pearly whites gleaming. We’ve let you kiss our red lipstick lips, and then we drew our fangs and plunged.
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The policeman turns to look at him well. “My friend, we are looking for your kidney and not your money. You didn’t give the man your money. What you gave him is your kidney, and that’s what we need to find. It’s when we find it we can begin to talk about your money. Pray…
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The house across the street wasn’t there anymore; there was a jagged hole, like a tooth had been ripped out. An old man, wearing shorts and not much else, had limped past her, bleeding at the head; the bright red of his blood was the only colour Maria remembered under all the dust.
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I opened my mouth to counter that statement, but had no argument. What did I do with my life? I wasn’t invested in my job. I played games, watched videos, scrolled social media. My outside activities involved others prying me out of the house to participate—otherwise, I wouldn’t have made the effort. I had no…
