Pastor Mike saw her in the corner, crying. He said, "Don't worry, your next pastor will be a better preacher and counselor than I've been." She answered, "Yes, everyone else is saying the same thing. But it seems like every new pastor we get is worse than the one before."

© 2009 Mark D.

He and his grandson had a game - grandson would surprise him, point his finger, calling, "Bang." He'd quick draw his finger, replying, "Bang." He wasn't expecting his grandson in the basement as he cleaned his pistol. "Bang," his grandson said. Without thinking, he pulled the trigger and shot him dead.

© 2009 Mark D.

It was all about the pipe. I knew it. Drip. Son-of-a.. It wouldn't let me be! I was lying there. On my back. One knee up. Not really thinking about how silly I looked. I was pissed. All of the bathroom stacked around my supine body. Tiring arm. Flashlight. Drip.

© 2009 Sidney M.

“Don’t you eat all the dressing, moron.” My cousin was the moron. Had been for forty-five Thanksgivings. He never let up. Always harping on me, since we were kids. “Get me a piece of pie, while you’re up, loser.” Loser. Here’s your pie. Enjoy the cyanide I dripped on top.

© 2009 Kimmy H .

For ten years he read to the hateful, old woman. Until he learned he wasn't in her will. He came to the last page. "The gun pointed at his heart" he read. "To be continued..." "Read part two," she rasped. "It hasn't been written," he replied. She gasped and died.

© 2009 Mickey H.

The dripping was really bugging me, interfering with my concentration. I needed to get the dress just right. I took a wrench and finally fixed that blasted spigot. As I finished filling the tank, her hair got caught up in the current, dancing for me. They always danced for me.

© 2009 T. Witt

I just couldn’t take my husband’s criticism of my decorating skills anymore. I wrapped the cord around his neck, strangled him and watched his face turn red as he gasped for air. At least I finally found a use for that broken set of Christmas lights I never threw away.

© 2009 A. Stewart

I heard it in the night, crawling around in the woods. Shaking I crepted forward scared of what was in the dark with me. The werewolf leapt from his cover of brush without a sound heard. Blood flew through the night air, I gurgled as I realized I am dead.

© 2009 Joann J.

She found a dead mouse in the vine; tucked it away behind leaves while it decayed. Later there were squirrels and rats. A cat got caught, maybe seeking the mouse, then a dog. She lured her husband out saying, “Look,” then tucked him away behind leaves while he too decayed.

© 2009 Sheila D.

Crammed under the desk I watched as his shoes marked the carpet in my blood. Squish, squash. The slight squelching sounds turned my stomach as I prayed that the blood that surrounded me in my hiding place didn’t leak out. I watched as the puddle turned into a flowing stream.

© 2009 Nicole H.

The manic barking of the dogs was unnerving. But when they went silent, it was unbearable. The yelp of pain, and the howl of mourning, raised the hair on the back of my neck. I grabbed a hold of the door jam, stilling my steps to go to their rescue.

© 2009 Nicole H.

“Care to walk with me?” The hand offered shook, whether in excitement or fear I didn’t know. But it was the hand that I couldn’t see that worried me. The one that he kept at his side, and slightly behind his thigh. What did he want? What did he hide?

© 2009 Nicole H.

The door rattled on the hinges as he continued to demand entry. I backed away slowly, tears streaming while I shook my head in denial. The sudden silence made my breathe lodge in my throat. When the voice sounded behind me I remembered the kitchen door was unlocked. “Remember me?”

© 2009 Nicole H.

The lights flickered as the thunder crashed overhead. The clock ticked loudly. The hum of the fan seemed like a warning as I tried to listen for any other sound. Sounds that did not belong. Sounds to let me know where they were. Sounds that meant they had found me.

© 2009 Nicole H.

Some books write themselves backwards. She started writing “At last, I understand,” then turned the page to “Wish I knew…” to “Where am I?” to “What happened?” and wished she knew. Then she died and slumped to the floor, leaving the pen write more with its ink brewed in blood.

© 2009 Sheila D.

“You signed it.” “I don’t remember.” “But you did.” They slid the needle into her arm. Amanda slept while strangers “borrowed” her body; their payments enough to cover her debt and it wasn’t called slavery now; just paid “time-out.” When she woke they demanded her death because fingerprints don’t lie.

© 2009 Sheila D.

“Please! Don’t make me! I don’t want to! I promise to be a good girl!” The paring knifes sharp edge glinted in the light as it was forced downwards, her hand shaking as it was pushed against her will. Tears slipped down her face when she looked at her tormentor.

© 2009 Nicole H.

If wishes were as plentiful as the leaves falling from the trees in autumn, I would have had it all. That vindictive female would never have stolen my man. She would have never been able to turn his head. But I managed to turn both of their heads. 180 degrees!

© 2009 Nicole H.

"It was you," she said, disbelief in her eyes. She had never thought one of her friends would have killed Mike. "It had to be me," he sneered, a foul grin on his face. "I'm the one with the grudge." At that, he raised the Desert Eagle pistol. "Bye!" BANG!!!

© 2009 Justin L.

My one-man ship was orbiting the dark side of Earth. I'd just wished my counterparts in Houston "Merry Christmas." I closed my eyes. In the emptiness of space, I was alone. My eyes flew open when a fist pounded outside the airlock and a voice demanded to be let in.

© 2009 Kimmy H.

He could hear her ragged breath as she lay next to him in the ambulance. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to go first so he could live like he wanted with the insurance money. She turned her head and winked at him as he died.

© 2009 Lee M.

Get that thing out of my yard, the old man yelled at the frightened boy. The old man took aim at the dog trespassing in his yard. The boy watched as his older brother crept behind the old man unseen and strangled him with a rope. No more dead dogs.

© 2009 Niquita K.

“Let go!” “No, you let go!” We were dangling precariously, high above the jagged rocks. The rope wasn’t going to hold both of us. Husband and wife; now, survivor and survivor. We looked at each other. Like everything else in our marriage, I made the decision. With a well-placed kick.

© 2009 Kimmy H.

Who’s my daddy? *** I’m your daddy. *** Where were you? *** I’ve been around. *** Why’d you leave? *** Your mother hated me. *** Did you love me? *** I didn’t know you. *** Will you love me now? *** Loosen these ropes. Wait, you don’t need the knife; I’ll love you. I promise. I swear. *** Too late.

© 2009 Kimmy H.

Alabaster skin in a fruitless garden. Hummingbirds singing a tuneless song. Hold those horses, boys, we’ve got a herd to bring in. Dipping my toes in dry water, I ran across stars. My chair sizzled with electricity; my hair caught fire. The warden grinned as my world suddenly went black.

© 2009 Tony B.

Sitting on the sofa, he looked across the room at his roommate. He was a pig when he ate. He scattered crumbs everywhere. It drove him crazy. The dustbuster was not big enough to suck it all in. Maybe, if he cut it into pieces . . . goodbye, roommate.

© 2009 Tony B.

Jackson Green loved a good mystery. The stories he had told his children resounded in his ears as he tried to escape the box he was buried in. “I’m not dead!” he screamed to deaf ears. “My heart’s still beating!” No one heard. Wait. Someone was giggling. In his ear.

© 2009 Kimmy H.

Two parts ice cream, one part cookies, three parts love. I loved my family. The economy’s fall had stripped us of everything but our love. They were so good and I had failed them. It was right and fair I serve them the desert of death before I served myself.

© 2009 Kimmy H.

Jump over the stick and we’ll see how fast you can fly, the gang of boys menacingly told me. I jumped and they raised the stick, tripping me and sending me flying. Putrid vomit spewed from my mouth, all over the delinquents. I have the plaque, I laughed at them.

© 2009 Tony B.

Johnny-come-lately came too late to see. He was always a day late and a dollar short. He watched from the road as the firemen gathered their dripping hoses. It had already burned. Oh, well, there was always next week and there were always more houses and old ladies to burn.

© 2009 Tony B.

The thumping of a loud car stereo interrupted my peaceful reverie. Time to take stop this, once and for all. Whipping out my pistol as I walked to the end of my driveway, I took careful aim as the car passed by again. The barrel was cold against my ear.

© 2009 Tony B.

Smile, like the world is smiling at you. Laugh and the world will laugh with you. Cry and you have a company of tears. Sigh and people sigh, too. Bludgeon and your audience will follow. Kill and they’ll eagerly await your next move. Die and they’ll carry on your ways.

© 2009 Tony B.

Jericho, where have you gone? My friend disappeared down a hole as we played behind my father’s shed. When I told my father, he paled and ran. A stench rose as he lifted the lid of the old cistern. Tell no one, he cautioned, else you’ll end up with Jericho.

© 2009 Kimmy H.

Mary is contrary and she was a horrible dinner companion. We had gone to lunch at my favorite restaurant and all she did was complain. Our poor waitress was frazzled. After a free desert, Mary stopped complaining and started screaming. The strawberry glaze wasn’t glaze and the ladyfinger was real.

© 2009 Kimmy H.

I love my freezer. With it I make my weapons. Styrofoam. Water. Razor blades. And a deep freeze. Carve a dagger form into the Styrofoam. Add water, and then just when it starts to freeze place the razor blades a half inch in the water. A blade that melts. Perfect.

© 2009 Nicole H.

Ants are such little hard working creatures. Small. Industrious. And so easy to feed. All they want is to have food to take back to the nest. To feed their queen. All you have to do is add honey to the body and they will eagerly carve out their meal.

© 2009 Nicole H.

Could it really be so simple? To take the anger that built up in my chest and let it out? I looked over his duck taped body to the head in the open microwave. Would he blow up like the mouse had? There is only one way to find out.

© 2009 Nicole H.

The telemarketer was helplessly listening to a man being sliced to death. His screams and senseless babbling echoed in her ears every sleepless night for months. She had heard nothing making sense. On this night, the rustling of leaves outside sounded strange. Her last thought: how did he find me?

© 2009 Tony B.

A January moon peeked through night clouds as he dug into soft ground. She had been a good girl, until the very end when her independent nature led her astray. Coming home for a visit, he decided she needed to stay with family instead of returning to the city. If cold ground was what it took, then so be it.

© 2009 Kimmy H.

The killer terrorizing the city was strangling her. Except . . . she wasn’t dying. As she forced herself to go limp, the killer relaxed and turned away. She rose and wrapped the rope around his throat. Now, she whispered, I’ll teach you how to do it the right way.

© 2009 Kimmy H.