Iced

by Robin Jennings

That pale, sickly green piece of paper. That gritty, calloused texture that says it’s been around the block a few times. That smell I can never quite place but always leaves me intoxicated.

There’s just something about a dollar bill, you know?

It’s magic.

Hot off the press. Damp with tears. Stained red with blood. Doesn't matter. Every one is beautiful in all of its imperfections.

So give me the next name on the list and I’ll cross it off. I’ll even let you pick the method. As long as you have that magic. That sickly green. Those dollar bills.



Author Bio: Robin Jennings is a horror enthusiast based in the open fields of Northern New Jersey. Having previously optioned a full length screenplay called “Shudder”, she’s now focusing her creative efforts on short fiction. Follow her on Twitter: @Robin_Jayyy.

Iced is part of 101 Fiction issue 7.

Confession

by Robin Jennings

The light is blinding. Blinding white. But it warms my face and relaxes me. I hear his voice like an echo and it snaps me back to reality. I can see the outline of his face – the black lines of his frown mostly. Handsome, but not as soothing as the light.

We’ve been at this for hours, me and him. He keeps asking the same question, but we’re getting nowhere. I’m getting bored.

“You’re really going to do this?” he asks.

I nod. There’s nothing left to offer him. He knows it, but he asks again.

“Where is her body?”



Author Bio: Robin Jennings is horror enthusiast based in the open fields of Northern New Jersey. Having previously optioned a full length screenplay called “Shudder”, she’s now focusing her creative efforts on short fiction.

Confession is part of 101 Fiction issue 6.