Sunflowers On The Horizon

The rows of sunflowers spread across the horizon, tiny flames of color against a burnt-out sky. Megan ducks away from the window, hoping she wasn't spotted.

"They're coming closer."

Charles scrambles on hands and knees from room to room, locking each door without standing up, praying the bolts will be enough to keep them safe.

"I'm scared."

Megan ignores his cowardice, once again apologizing to her inner voice for ignoring its many warnings that an RPG podcaster would not make a good husband.

"Just shut up and go get the pesticide from the garage. I have some sunflowers to murder."

Huff It Your Way

“They’re moving Poe from the County jail to the Big House in the morning,” Dink Delmonico, head of the notorious Delmonico Crime Syndicate said. “Grub, you and Chub are gonna’ bust him out tonight.”

“How, Boss,” Grub asked. “There’s only two of us and at least a dozen guards.”

“With these,” Dink said, putting two pesticide spray canisters on the table. “They’re filled with quick-acting knockout gas. One whiff and the guards will hit the floor like bags of horse manure. Just don’t spray Poe.”

“Right, Boss,” Chub said.

“Remember,” Dink said. “Go directly to jail, and don’t gas Poe.”

From Guest Contributor Lee Hammerschmidt

Lee is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour. He is the author of the short story collections, A Hole Of My Own, It’s Noir O’clock Somewhere, For Richer or Noirer, and Flash Wounds. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!