It’s a tumble-down house on a small suburban block, corrugated iron roof, weatherboards peeling paint, long grass in the front. Out back, down the cracked driveway, three cars sit on blocks. They’re classics, you told me; you’d restore them one day, make us a mint. But they’ve been sitting there …

A gun in hand is worth two in the…. Finishing that line required getting out in the field. Maybe if I hadn’t tried two people would still be alive. I’m a crime writer. Okay, an unpublished crime writer, but an honest man. If I have a flaw, it’s a lack …

“Forgive and forget” is my life’s guiding policy. That’s why I don’t murder people—I forgive them. Only then can I find blessed forgetfulness. Like last week, when my neighbor took my mail by mistake. I told her she was forgiven, and I meant it. Then there was the clumsy barista …

For almost two years I stared at the ceiling in my tiny flat, trapped by both fear and government regulations. All I could do was hope that I’d get the chance to see her again. When the end of lockdown was in sight, I tried every trick I could to …

Shit happens in threes. The week’s bad news began in his doctor’s office. “Your job is literally killing you, Arthur,” she said. “Keep up this pace and your health will continue to deteriorate. If you are in a position to retire, I strongly recommend it.” Arthur Rice knew she was …

Sam sat in the back seat of his Uber ride staring at the ticket in his wallet. He couldn’t wait to get to the Buckaroo Inn and tell his old friend Vic about his lucky day. Now he’d be able to pay him back, as well as all the others …

Barb Dwyer, an old washed up has been who was the irritation of local landscapers due to her reputation of unwanted physical advances, passed away Tuesday. She was found dead by her neighbor’s garbage can holding a discarded tube of glue, from what sources say was attributed to recreational fume …

The night we killed Pat Singer started with me sipping a beer I swiped from my stepdad’s cooler and re-writing a text message to Amy Holloway over and over, trying to think up something clever. My only concern in the young evening was how I’d approach her, what I’d say …

  In Powell’s rearview, a dismal black expanse, like a cancerous fog on a chest x-ray, occupied the space where a sunrise should have been. Yesterday, the news hit that everything was ending. There was no stopping the storm. Everyone fled indoors, praying for it to be painless: a quiet …

  “Severed feet cost 500 pesos per foot,” said the graverobber. “I’ll take one,” said Lazar, handing over the money. “And I’ll take one more every two weeks. You can get them for me?” “There’s no shortage of feet on the market, señor. What will you do with this one?” …