by Wm. Brett Hill
Kip trailed the man through the crowd, intent on what had to be done. There was no time left to put it off. It had to happen now. The bastard had unapologetically ruined everything in his life and he would have to pay. Kip slipped the pistol from his pocket and raised it, unconcerned with who saw the action or what they would do.
“It’s over,” he said, “finally.”
Hoping this desperate act was the solution, a tear rolled down his cheek as he took a deep breath and shot himself, thirty years younger, in the back of the head.
Author bio: Wm. Brett Hill lives on the Eastern Shore of Maryland where he spends time with his wife and daughter, works in IT, and writes stories. His short fiction has appeared in 101 Fiction, Firewords, Flash Fiction Magazine, and numerous others.
Payback is part of 101 Fiction issue 25.
Showing posts with label Wm. Brett Hill. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wm. Brett Hill. Show all posts
Sunday, 15 December 2019
Sunday, 2 September 2018
Odobenine
by Wm. Brett Hill
Night descended leisurely, but Jack felt little of its languid nature as his skin crawled and rippled. He hated being trapped in the city, locked in his apartment as the change overtook him. He hated being surrounded by people who would never understand.
As his teeth grew long and the hair filled in on his face he remembered that fateful night long ago and the attack that brought him to this sorry state. He glared into the shining moon as he grunted and gave in, falling to the floor. Massive, powerful, absurd... Jack the werewalrus flopped around the living room.
Author bio: Wm. Brett Hill lives on the Eastern Shore of Maryland where he spends time with his wife and daughter, works in IT, and writes stories. His short fiction has appeared in Firewords, Flash Fiction Magazine, and numerous others.
Night descended leisurely, but Jack felt little of its languid nature as his skin crawled and rippled. He hated being trapped in the city, locked in his apartment as the change overtook him. He hated being surrounded by people who would never understand.
As his teeth grew long and the hair filled in on his face he remembered that fateful night long ago and the attack that brought him to this sorry state. He glared into the shining moon as he grunted and gave in, falling to the floor. Massive, powerful, absurd... Jack the werewalrus flopped around the living room.
Author bio: Wm. Brett Hill lives on the Eastern Shore of Maryland where he spends time with his wife and daughter, works in IT, and writes stories. His short fiction has appeared in Firewords, Flash Fiction Magazine, and numerous others.
Odobenine is part of 101 Fiction issue 20.
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