by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
by Sue Ellen Snape She has blood on hands, blood down her bodice, the stench of blood up her nose. The hem of her skirt is drenched a dark sticky red. She’s not one to shrink from the sight of blood, oh no. Lopping the head off a chicken comes…
by Darlene Holt It was April of ’86 when the blood moon murders began in Madison, Georgia. Before I met my wife, Charlene—hell, before I could even legally drink—back when life was simple. Or so I thought. My buddy, Chris Higgins, and I were taking some “easy A” elective on…
by Carol Lindsey “Girls, come on,” Mildred Smith called. “We’ll miss the bus.” Mildred looked over the two girls bounding down the stairs. “Very nice, Evelyn. Rhonda Sue, where are your gloves? A lady never leaves the house without being properly dressed.” Nine-year-old Rhonda Sue pulled a pair of white…