by Jim Stitzel | May 16, 2017 | Stories
This entry is part 4 of 12 in the series Market of the MacabreIt is night now, and moonlight pours through the one open window in the room. The moon outside is full, the light it casts bright and rich. Almost the moonbeam reaches the table. Almost it reaches the box....
by Jim Stitzel | May 15, 2017 | Stories
This entry is part 3 of 12 in the series Market of the MacabreThe box rests on a small, round table, perfectly centered on its rough surface. The man who purchased it stands across the room, leaning with one shoulder against the wall, staring at the box without really...
by Jim Stitzel | May 9, 2017 | Stories
This entry is part 2 of 12 in the series Market of the MacabreHe winds his way through the chaos, trying to avoid bumping into anyone. Such a thing is nigh impossible here. But it hardly bothers him. Here, anonymity is paramount. Finally, he reaches a dark corner...
by Jim Stitzel | May 1, 2017 | Stories
Olivia hits the ground with a sickening crunch, but she barely feels it. Her vision is swimming, her ears ringing, and it takes her a moment to realize she’s landed left hip on the pavement, her arms supporting her upper torso. Her jaw throbs with a dull ache,...
by Jim Stitzel | Apr 28, 2017 | Stories
The child sits at the base of the tree, silently weeping. Her arms are crossed over her upraised knees, her face buried in her arms. Tears fall from her cheeks, staining her pants and the soil on which she sits. A few even land on the tree roots. A gentle touch on her...
by Jim Stitzel | Apr 7, 2017 | Stories
It soared out of midnight, all gas envelope and aerosolized Nightmare, propelled by only God knows what. It carried a tiny bomber bay, loaded with a lethality that would have made any nation quake to its roots, if any knew it existed. The airship was black as night...
