My name is Ten. I have killed ten people. My lover, my lover’s lover, their child. The Avalon brothers, boom boom boom. Four. Five. Six. Seven almost killed me, but Seven Eight Nine, all in a row. Ten? Just a job. This? Another job.
My name is Eleven.
L.S. Engler writes from outside of Chicago, though she grew up chasing dragons in the woods of Michigan. She is the editor of the World Unknown Review and author of the Slayer Saga, a trilogy about zombies. Her work has appeared in many anthologies and magazines, including the Saturday Evening Post, Phantaxis Magazine, and Pulp Modern.
I awoke in the cell, hoping, knowing Tim would come for me. He loved me. No matter what.
Even when I tried to kill the neighbors.
“Kate,” he murmured, stroking my hair, “let’s go home. It’s okay. I fenced in the yard so you can’t chase the neighborhood cats anymore!”
Mary Schermer lives in a small town on the southern shore of Lake Erie and writes short stories for enjoyment.
It had been snowing for hours, days, weeks. I stood in the window, gazing out at my quiet suburban neighbourhood, a world set on Mute.
I could still hear his last breath inside my head, even from beneath the snow. By the time it melted, I’d be far, far away.
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “on mute.”
“Grapplin’ hooks, skeleton keys, guard uniforms… I got everythin’ you need, man.”
“You charge a lot, Skivvy.”
“It ain’t easy to get stuff like this into my cell.”
“But let me tell you, gettin’ nabbed for murder’s the most profitable thing I ever done. I’m makin’ a killing!”