“As I made my way toward the stage and the crowd thickened, I walked through at least six ‘fart clouds.’ If we each fart between 15 and 25 times each day, the number of farts – conservatively speaking – was in excess of 1,500,000.” Steven Woods answers the math question we were all asking.
“Allison left the car running. She walked around and opened the passenger door. Together, she and Donna poured Billy’s large frame into the seat of her tiny car. Allison thought about how rats fit into small places.” A Hard Boiled-Down Noir Fiction Contest winner by Steven Woods.
“Come on inside. We need your help.” Only this helping isn’t helping anything. Flash fiction by Steven Woods.
“Charlie licks the blood from the side of the tub removing any evidence of the accident. Next, he starts on the tile floor but ignores the red drops that have dotted my wife’s white bath mat suggesting the cheap rug had contracted a case of the measles.” New flash fiction from Steven Woods.
The phone shook me from a daze. I stood looking out the window into our backyard, yet my eyes focused somewhere beyond the window, beyond our backyard, and beyond the woods. I was hoping that Sam would answer the phone. She didn’t.