Dead Man’s Hill
What appeared to be a man, hovered over a smoldering fire smoking a cigarette. His bony purple fingers tightly gripping a rectangular bottle.
Jingle Bell
The bell jingled over the door. Frankie looked up. His apron stained with dried blood. A cleaver in his right hand and the limp leg of a of a recently slaughtered lamb in his other.
Without Honors
It’d been 5 days since the assembly fuck-up. The house was like a morgue. Nobody’d talked to nobody. I worked as much overtime as they threw at me just to stay away.
[EXCERPT] Gorski and The Goat
On a urine-stained olive green cot in the back room of Rosalda’s Cantina in Ciudad Juarez, I came to. Blacked out. Again. A smell I couldn’t quite put a finger on. Rank breath, a muffled gurgle and what felt like whiskers. I hope not our hostess, or worse, one of her chicas.
The Ballerino
“Change the goddamn ballet recital just for you?” Her voice rose. She thrust her hip sideways and firmly planted a hand on it. “Johnny, that’s how you operate! Change it for me.” Melinda turned and walked out of the room. “Jesus Christ.” The door slammed behind her.
The Clincher
At first the team was just a bunch of burnt-out baseball guys looking for a reason to get out of the house. Then it got serious. The trophies, the fights, the bets. Sixteen-inch no-mitt softball became an obsession. Nothing got in the way. That’s how it went when guys had too much of what they didn’t want in life.
The Cittadino
“My father, he’s from the old country. He can be a pain in the ass, but he’s harmless. He doesn’t know…” Roberto shook his head. “He doesn’t know what…” he choked on his words. “My mother, she died, and now he’s alone. He tries, but,” Roberto glanced back at his father, now sitting stoically on the seat, puffing his cigar. “I’m sorry Officer.”