Officer Down

The bullet tore through flesh and bone. The arm fell limp, and Officer Brady drew his weapon with his non-shooting hand. Their assailant continued to fire from outside the passenger window of the cruiser as his partner slumped unconscious and bleeding in the front seat. Her baby was born in spring. She returned to duty last week.

Placing his front sight on center mass, Brady squeezed the trigger and watched the attacker drop to the pavement. After screaming “officer down” into the microphone, he smashed his foot down on the accelerator, racing the mother of his child to New York-Presbyterian.

From Guest Contributor B.G. Smith

B.G. Smith enjoys writing flash fiction and drinking Kentucky straight bourbon, usually at the same time. B.G. is a married father of four boys and a lifelong fan of Philadelphia professional sports teams, which explains the affinity for bourbon. His stories have appeared in Pocket Fiction, Microfiction Monday Magazine, The Drabble, and Scribes*MICRO*Fiction.

Karaoke Superstar

The sweaty man standing behind the microphone had been a pop star of some renown once upon a time, many years ago. Everyone in the room, even those paying more attention to their drinks than the immolation occurring in the corner of the hazy bar, could tell the man had the voice of an angel. One or two heads turned, thinking the man sounded somehow familiar even though they couldn’t quite place him. A woman, half drunk, nodded a buzzed nod and winked at the man, who barely noticed her, so focused was he on finishing this one last song.

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten