THE OUT
By
Writerman
As I sat there
in my parked car before the broad Pacific Ocean, on a moonlit beach
along the northern coast of California, I stared down at the dead
deputy’s revolver in my hands and considered how I was going to do
it. It
was a thirty-eight caliber, so it would probably only take one shot.
If I just could sneak up on her while she was sleeping, I’d have
time to aim it right at the nape of her neck, at the top of her
spinal column. I’d stand far enough back so I d

THE
ONE-WAY HIKE
By
Writerman
and Atastytreat22
W: I'm a mountain
guide for trails up the fictional Mount Noonan. You’re the
schoolteacher Creamy Christina, off on her summer break. You have
always wanted to climb a mountain before, let's say, and so you find
me online at my mountain guide website. I charge $500 for a three-day
hike, and $100 to rent the necessary hiking supplies. We correspond
over email and make a date one weekend. This is the break this
overworked schoolteacher has been wai

THE
VANISHING ACT
By
Writerman
Any professional killer
worth their salt will tell you that the actual carrying out of hit is
the easiest and simplest part of the job. It’s everything you do
before and after to ensure that no one ever connects the murder to
you that makes the job so difficult. You have to do your homework,
and you have to cover your tracks. And most important, you have to
know in advance how you’re going to get rid of the body. If you
don’t know what you’re doing, you wil

THE GIRL
WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
by
Writerman
“I know all about
you, Nate,” I say, locking the bedroom door behind me, the college
party raging on in the living room downstairs.“I know what you
like, and I know what you’re into. I know all about your
little…fetish.”
At those words, spoken
by this beautiful girl you only met this evening, sobriety swiftly
takes you. It takes you with the same swiftness you’d sober up with
in front of a cop or in front of your parents. You swear in your

FOR THE BEST
By
Fakename McFakename
The nineteen-year-old girl lying on the bed was both the beauty and
the beast.
From where I stood on her glittered dresser, at a paltry two and a
half inches tall, I watched the giant girl slumber. I watched her
well-developed chest rise and fall with the rhythms of her dreams. I
watched her eyelids flutter. I watched her long white legs, one
stacked atop the other, shift for comfort, and the thin strands of
her long brown hair falling across her face, flurryi

THE PROCESS

by

Gerald Hashburn


The process was mindblowing. As far as Rick Dooley could tell, the transformation was instantaneous, like a shotgun blast of his entire body. His head grew light, his heartbeat convulsed, and the apartment living room he had previously occupied became a canyon. Clung to the tendons of the shag carpet, beige fuzzy grass that reached up to his naked hips, Rick Dooley fought the eerie rushing feeling that attacked his consciousness. Large whapping like giant