Sweet Things

candy

By Allison M. Dickson

As the author herself puts it, this is a sinister little tale. Consider yourself warned.

It was Halloween night, so of course…razor blades. Also needles and wood splinters and rat poison. But just a dash. He didn’t want to kill anybody. He just wanted them to cry. Maybe they would never eat candy again. Maybe they wouldn’t turn into fat little slobs. Maybe they would live longer and have better teeth.

Maybe he was saving humanity.

Parents were crafty little inspectors, so he’d honed his skills over the years, each little candy bar a painstaking operation that would make a surgeon weep with envy. A singular puncture hole, a slightly imperfect seal, and all his hard work would be so much refuse for rats or other garbage bin carrion, and that would not do.

The right tools were essential. Fine tweezers for opening the ends of each package, a commercial heat sealer for closing them back up again so they looked fresh from the factory. A pair of tin snips for making the bits of needles and razor blades into devious silver confetti to be sprinkled carefully throughout each confection. A mortar and pestle to grind the rat poison into a fine powder so that he could combine it with a viscous mixture to be inserted with a hypodermic needle, undetectable particularly amid the caramel varieties.

He found a soldering iron to be useful for melting the chocolate back over the places he’d inserted his special ingredients. No one would detect his trickery—until it was too late. After his treatment, the candy looked just as it did before. Perhaps even better.

He was a maestro of the subtle. Continue reading

Shardana

Wetlands

By Dellani Oakes

She walked through the jungle, the soft light warm on her opalescent skin. Cobalt blue hair cascaded down her back in tumultuous curls. Shaking her head, she laughed, the sound ringing and echoing like bells.

Shardana had never seen a bell. She didn’t even know what they were, but he knew. He hadn’t heard bells in awhile, he missed them sometimes. But he had her laugh and that was almost enough.

The river roiled over boulders, falling over the cliff to rumble and tumble on the sharp rocks below. Shardana yanked her hand away, rushing headlong for the lip of the land. He wouldn’t be joining her in her long swan dive to the lower river. They’d learned long ago that his body couldn’t handle the trauma of either dive or water pressure like hers could. Shardana was not a soft and cuddly plaything. As lethal as she was dangerously beautiful, she ruled undisputed over her domain. Most days she was glad of her visitor. Others, she demanded he leave. He couldn’t go entirely, but he had a place to stay on his own, away from her wrath. Continue reading

I Have…

woman-under-treeBy Natalie Cone

The grass was soft beneath her knees. Shafts of sunlight blinked kaleidoscope patterns onto her skirt and glinted off the knife nestled in her lap. Today, her last thread snapped.

Looking away, she prayed desperately for God’s forgiveness as she pressed the blade to her wrists.

Her eyes fell on a carving in the trunk of a tree. It was a single word.

Purpose.

In that moment, something inside her shifted.

She pulled herself to her feet. Using the blade that was intended to end her life, she carved two more words above the one already there.

I have.

* * *
© 2013 by Natalie Cone • All rights reserved

Roy & Darby

Stars
By Robb Grindstaff

Roy and Darby lay on the roof one August night watching the meteor shower.

“Don’t the stars make you feel small,” she asked.

But they didn’t. They made him feel part of a grand scheme. There had to be a master plan and he’d have a major role, he told her.

The streak and flash, maybe miles above or just over the treetops, fired his every fiber.

“That looked close,” he said, but Darby was gone. Roy never saw her again.

* * *
© 2012 by Robb Grindstaff • All rights reserved

Savages

Winner of the Stories Space ‘Darkness and Light’ Contest

By Steffanie

It would be a much darker world without choice.

A female has moved into my territory, a healthy young blonde, ripe for breeding and bearing good child. She could be my mate, once I’ve captured her, subdued her and proved my worth as her man.

Sounds easy enough, but this female is small, flighty and quick. One stray sound and she’s off like the wind, racing through shadows to seek cover amongst the ruins and rubble. I’ve no hope of chasing her down, so instead I’m intent on outwitting her and steering her into a trap.

The female is cautious and cunning, she takes heed of her senses before making a move and takes no chances at all until the hot sun begins to go down. Only in twilight will she head for the water source and this evening I’m ready for her, I’m watching her every move as I lie hidden downwind.

She’s a survivor and clever as such, but not so smart as to realize that following predictable behavior is a serious mistake. I am the hunter and she is my prey. Her routine is her weakness and gives me the only advantage I need to help corner her.

My plan is simple and my trap is already in place. I’ll hold off a little while longer, then move in on her from the west. Doubtless she’ll break straight away, her fine legs carrying her east along the only clear alleyway, the one between what’s left of the two tower blocks.

She’ll think she’s heading for escape, with a choice of two corners leading to any number of hide outs. Only both routes are narrow and I’ve blocked them, nothing elaborate, but enough to delay her for a few precious seconds. That’s all I’ll need, a brief moment to catch up and grab hold of her.

Continue reading