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The Friday Muse – Hidden
Blood soaked the carpet, surrounding Rune like a blossoming rose. What he thought would have been the killing blow by Hastings simply put him in a state of misery he had never experienced before. His skull ached as if it were being tightened in a vice, and the rest of his broken form cried out in echoes of pain that mimicked the agonizing cries of a banshee. He didn’t have to guess that his wounds might be fatal by this point. And even if they weren’t, he knew Hastings would finish the job once he was finished cleaning up his wounded face. But the fact that Rune might be at…
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Eight Ball, Corner Pocket
“Eight ball, corner pocket,” Shane called out. His trembling hands coated the pool stick in slippery sweat, making it difficult to position his shot. Sergio leaned against the pool table, a smirk slowly bleeding across his face. “You just called your fate, ese.” Gripping the pool stick, Shane lowered himself to the table and attempted to line up his shot. His rapidly pounding heart reminded him of how ridiculous it was that his fate and the fate of his wife and kid rested on a simple game of pool. His mind tried to trace the events that led him here… He caught his wife cheating with his best friend. That’s…
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The Friday Muse – Mountain Flare
The frigid cold left Timothy with little movement in his arms and legs, and even less in his face. Ice crystals had formed throughout his two-week-old beard, and along the inside of his nose, chilling each inhale of icy mountain air. This is where I’m going to die. He knew it was inevitable. The freezing temperatures on the top of Killora’s Peak were the culprit for many deaths over the years, leading Timothy to want to scale it in spite of its harsh climate, steep walls, and uncanny religious ties. The way up Killora’s Peak had been treacherous enough. There were two times a landslide nearly wiped out Timothy and…
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The Friday Muse – A Dangerous Meeting
In his panic, in his surprise at being overcome by someone he thought to be his inferior, chaos erupted at his desk. His arms flailed about as blood gushed from his neck. Pencils and pens rolled off the desk, each one hitting the carpeted floor without injury. A stack of papers blew apart, the sheets performing free-fall maneuvers to where the pencils had landed. The man’s coffee cup – ‘World’s Greatest Nothing’ – tumbled along the surface of the desk, splashing coffee on nearly everything. He wasn’t prepared for death, but the evening would take him regardless. That morning, he had kissed his wife and kids goodbye, drove two hours…
