by Michael Kingswood Some folks call dead bodies stiffs. And boy, they ain’t kidding. Couldn’t tell you what happened before then or how I got there. But when I opened my eyes on the cold stainless steel of the medical examiner’s exam table and looked up at the bright fluorescent lights shining down on me,…
Category: Short Story
O’Bannon’s Talisman
by Michael Kingswood Humidity made Carl O’Bannon’s shirt cling to his torso, almost completely soaked despite not being out and about all that long. He felt like he was sweating a river, though in reality it wasn’t all that hot out. It was like an ocean itself was condensing on top of him, and he…
The Shrine of Tulok
by Michael Kingswood Hot wind blew past Thurim, bringing with it the scent of impending rain overtop the other, more earthy odors that seemed to permeate the grasslands he was traversing. It whipped his cloak around behind him as he peered down from the hilltop where he stood. The garment was once bright scarlet but…
Bridge Mending
by Michael Kingswood I’m not a super sentimental guy, but there are times when even I look back on past events through the lens of nostalgia and pine for those long-gone, supposedly simpler times. Never thought an elf would do the same. When they gave the Big Guy the finger over working conditions and left…
Candlemass
by Michael Kingswood Ray knew he was in trouble the instant the lights came on. It wasn’t the two grim faces staring at him, round cheeks and narrowed eyes so similar the two men had to be brothers. No, it was what Ray saw past them that clinched it. A broad window through which he…
Sea Legs
by Michael Kingswood The light from the brass oil lamp hanging from the ceiling above me swirled, sending shadows careening around the room as the lamp swung and twisted about on its chain. The corners of my little room flashed in and out of view as the shadows swam, and I imagined I was somehow…
The Briefcase
by Michael Kingswood The slide of Jack’s Glock locked to the rear, his magazine empty. He reached for another one, only to find his pouches of spare magazines empty. He was plum out of ammo. There were at least two men left of the team that had come after him; the sounds of their movements…
Noticing (Misty Mornings)
by Bluestem Walk through the pastures on misty fall mornings and distant shapes that the logical mind knows to be simply tufts of tall grass take on ghostly forms that spoof the shapes of man or beast. One chilly morning as I walked with Ike across the field, I saw in the distance a man…
Miss Melody And The Spruce Trail
by Michael Kingswood It wasn’t every day that you rounded a bend in a hiking trail and found a cafe there, waiting for you. At first, Jeff thought he was seeing things. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes. But when he opened them it was still there. Right there at the side of the creek…
Suspended Sentence – Part 5
by Silent Draco Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 0607, 21 Jun 45, Base Gold Four, American Zone of Occupation “More coffee, sirs?” asked the mess attendant. “May as well,” sighed Sellers, “it’s not like either of us will be sleeping for…