The Last Supper
The night crept up imperceptibly and smothered the whisky coloured day with darkness.
Leon’s bones creaked with shame and guilt as he smashed the hammer into Milton’s face.
Later, his stomach growled with hunger and fear as he fried the corpse of the only other human left alive.
Paul D. Brazill
Train Ride
I don’t remember his name. It may be that I never knew it, but we sat together the entire ride. His thoughts were of his late wife; a series of faded, yellow newspaper memories. I stared at the green lawns, dreaming of old friends, praying he wouldn’t speak or cry.
Lewis Kahler
An Electric Chair For Three
The evil spark in his eye lit up as he pulled the switch on the wall. Electricity flowed through every wire meeting its three victims. Too bad his wife had died the year before; their three children dying would have been something he would have enjoyed seeing her watch.
Nicole E. Hirschi
What She Did To Marc
Before she broke it off with him–because he didn’t believe in the saving power of the cross of Christ, she mentioned her threesome with her high school ex and the Godly man she was predestined to marry.
Catherine Zickgraf
Sparkplug
First the engine screech, then the tire flung gravel pocking the tin shed. Clanking a menthol cough drop against his molars, Herb Bernstein looked straight over the dash, his jaw creased, foot on the pedal, mumbled “Fatty” under the growing roar of the engine, and dropped the shift into gear.
Doug Bond
Little White Lie
Diagnosis split. Half in. Half out. All bad. Nurses and residents turned to white lemmings. Ready to leap at a gasp. Not Dr. Ted Black. Black was cool. Black was calm. A cobra surveying the scene. All mesmerizing eyes and coiled fingers. When Black got home that night he poured a double. “Lost one?” asked Mrs. Black, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t lose shit,” Black snapped back. It was true. He’d signed the certificate DOA.
The Line Has Been Disconnected
The Wrong Fantasy
Alvin Rothstein thought of his wife, her oversized breasts flopping and fluttering, her legs snaked around his backside, forcing him to push deeper into her. He wished he didn’t have such thoughts because he was on top of Corva Glickman at the time.
Wayne Scheer
Hospitality
She was away when her uninvited friends sat watching me type at the computer. I offered water and food, but they weren’t friendly. After she left me one of them telephoned to berate my careless hospitality, and that was a day I think I wrote one of my best stories.
offbeatjim wittenberg




