She rolls over, the soft hiss of middle-aged flesh sliding through 300-thread-count cotton announcing her change in position. She is surprised by the darkness of her bedroom and the numbers on her clock. The sunrise should have happened by now. She groans and swears and flops on her back, squeezing her eyes shut. Continue reading
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Who’s Gettin’ Schooled?
Viking sword from Lesja Oppland, discovered 2017
She swings again, the blunt-edged sword whistling past his ear by a hair’s breadth. He slices upward with his own wooden blade. Continue reading
Cheesy Lines in Apocalyptic Times
Air quality alerts had been on “Severe” for the past two months. The pub was filled with exhausted workers.
His Secret, and Hers
His long spatulate fingers, joints knobby as cherry pits, cup a bouquet of fresh dwarf roses. He shifts from foot to foot within the grove of birch trees, anxious over his late arrival at the graveyard. Continue reading
Jack the Ripper Spins
There’d be no dancing in the pub that night. Air quality alerts had been on “Severe” for the past three months, and the popular Sorrowing Gnome, with its airtight construction, was filled with exhausted workers. Pub owner Tommy Finn leaned an elbow against the bar and stared at the TV above.
Valley of the Trolls 