Anything Can Happen

“Why do you think you’re an expert on me?” I asked Jim. We were on another construction job together doing some demolition. It felt good sledge hammering the walls.

“Listen, kid. You’re eighteen and you gotta drop this attitude. People don’t appreciate it.”

“Sure, Jim. Whatever you say.”

“Listen, kid. I’ve seen the world and I know what it’s like.” Jim lifted his shirt to reveal a .45 pistol. “See this. I’ve had a gun on me all day. You never would’ve known. Anyone is capable of anything.”

Jim pulled the pistol cautiously. Fumbling it in his hands he–– POP!!!!

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

After Midnight

After midnight, we climb the cemetery fence.

The sky is black as ink, but Gordy’s brought a flashlight. He’s been out of juvie for two days now.

I follow him to the far corner of the plot, wind brushing my clothes like ghosts.

“This is it,” he says.

His dad’s name is on the headstone along with this year’s date, him having died while Gordy was locked up.

I’ve seen the stripes on Gordy’s back, his broken nose, of course, but when Gordy takes out a sledge hammer, winding up, I grab his arm, saying, “Do that and he wins.”From Guest Contributor Len Kuntz

Len is a writer from Washington State, an editor at the online magazine Literary Orphans, and the author of I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE AND NEITHER ARE YOU out now from Unknown Press. You can also find him at lenkuntz.blogspot.com