The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
So she did. Blood surged into the air, splattering everything with
Rorschach patterns some detective would fail to analyze.
She pocketed the knife. No sense leaving it behind. Having an incomplete knife set would really drive her crazy.
Jordan finished the meal he requested, and set aside his dessert—cherry pie—so he could finish it later.
The cell guard turned to the warden and said, “I thought prisoners couldn’t be executed if they didn’t know what was happening to ’em.”
“So much for theory,” the warden sneered.
Adam Sprague’s work can be found in 365Tomorrows magazine. For more information check out his site.
As the hot sun descended, frightened by the rising of the cold blue moon, I stumbled on a root and fell headlong into nightmare.
Within myself, I chased and fled, pursuing sanity and evading madness.
I grasped sanity’s skirt. She pulled away, saying, “Your daughter is dead.”
Madness ensnared me.
This story was based on a title suggested by @KittyCatalyst.