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27 December 2009
17 January 2009
Murder
(One of my submissions to the Boise Weekly Fiction 101 contest, 2008.)
“If the Devil knocks twice, don’t answer.”
“Twice? Why twice? What if he only knocks once?” she said, pulling laces tight.
“Knocks once to view the body, twice to gather the soul,” he said.
She shouldered her purse, stuffing in bills, “You’re a mess.”
“Only on Sundays, when I’m happy.”
She walked to the door and he leaned back. The steel pulled slow from beneath the cushion. It felt alien in his hand, cancerous. He thumbed the hammer; listened to the click. “Devil likes gathering on Sundays and he’s knocked once already. We gotta prepare your soul before he knocks again.”
“If the Devil knocks twice, don’t answer.”
“Twice? Why twice? What if he only knocks once?” she said, pulling laces tight.
“Knocks once to view the body, twice to gather the soul,” he said.
She shouldered her purse, stuffing in bills, “You’re a mess.”
“Only on Sundays, when I’m happy.”
She walked to the door and he leaned back. The steel pulled slow from beneath the cushion. It felt alien in his hand, cancerous. He thumbed the hammer; listened to the click. “Devil likes gathering on Sundays and he’s knocked once already. We gotta prepare your soul before he knocks again.”
Solving the Adulterous Equation
(One of my submissions to the Boise Weekly Fiction 101 contest, 2008.)
He fired, pumped the spent shell, and smiled.
“Little close,” I said and rubbed my ear.
“You bitch too much,” he said and swung the barrel over my head. “Like your wife.”
“So you said.”
“Bagged that bird.”
“So it seems.”
“Careful where that mouth leads you.”
“So you said.”
He eyed me level. “You be careful.”
“As I should.”
He walked ahead, legs parting wheat as if water. I held careful and didn’t shake much aiming that slick barrel. I whistled. He twitched. I fired.
I walked to his corpse, kicked dust in his eyes, “Say hello to my wife.”
He fired, pumped the spent shell, and smiled.
“Little close,” I said and rubbed my ear.
“You bitch too much,” he said and swung the barrel over my head. “Like your wife.”
“So you said.”
“Bagged that bird.”
“So it seems.”
“Careful where that mouth leads you.”
“So you said.”
He eyed me level. “You be careful.”
“As I should.”
He walked ahead, legs parting wheat as if water. I held careful and didn’t shake much aiming that slick barrel. I whistled. He twitched. I fired.
I walked to his corpse, kicked dust in his eyes, “Say hello to my wife.”
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