Flash Fiction

Standing in the Rain, Hammer in Hand, With Murder on my Mind

Honestly, I never imagined he would take me up on my offer. I mean it is preposterous, but here I am standing outside an apartment in the rain and holding a hammer. I grabbed the first one I could find and sizing it up I think it may have been too much hammer for me. Strangely, the head has ridges, and it weighs a ton. I took the biggest one from my dad’s collection. I…

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Flash Fiction My Craft Stories

The Dead will Pile Up

“Ready,” the squad officer shouted out. I stood at the ready waiting for the order to shoot. Five rifles with laser sights pointed at the target dancing with my heartbeat. I took a short breath. The laser lights danced again. “Citizen, society demands control, which you have none of.” The words bounced in my rattled head. “You will learn to control your impulses. Or the dead will pile up.” Freedom or conformity. Transformation or tradition.…

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Flash Fiction My Craft Stories

A Cold, Wet, Sticky Package

The remaining packages sat near the green door waiting for the next thief and all of them contained something messy and ugly. Our homeowner spied the woman’s face on his phone. Lovely. She likely won’t come back. Too bad she only took the small box. The biggest package contained the head of the last guy who tried to steal from him. A cold, wet, sticky, nasty, bloody head.

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