Killer-Extras: Flash Fiction
Highsmith Beach
By Bill Breedlove
It was, Charles Magnus decided, an abomination.
It was vile, disgusting, and obscene Charles thought. He had
been coming to Highsmith Beach for a long, long time, and—while
he had certainly seen more than his fair share of disturbing and
strange things over the years, this was just too much.
Charles shook his head as he liberally applied the sunscreen to
his arms and bare shoulders. With disbelieving eyes, Charles
turned his gaze back to the boy. The lad couldn’t have been more
than 11 or 12, standing in his swimming trunks underneath a
large beach umbrella while the two adults with him—his parents,
presumably—BOTH talked into cell phones, completely oblivious of
the monstrosity.
Fat. The boy was fat. Not plump, not chubby, not even, as the
department stores of Charles’ youth had euphemistically termed
it, “husky.” He was fat.
(continued...Click
here for the rest of the story )
Lily's Grave
By Chris Reed
I was turning forty and my wife, Liz, wanted to make my birthday a special one. Since we didn’t have much money to spare, she offered to grant me a wish. “Go ahead, Nick,” she said as we sipped coffee at the diner down the street from our apartment. “Anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Anything. Don’t hold back.”
I thought for a moment, but it seemed like everything I wanted
could only be achieved with a check book. Finally, I said, “I
don’t know. Really, I can’t think of anything.”
Liz leaned forward so the people seated near us wouldn’t hear.
“What about your deepest, darkest fantasy? Something you’ve
never told me before.”
After four years of marriage, there wasn’t much I hadn’t shared with Liz. Well, maybe there was one thing...
(continued...Click
here for the rest of the story )
John's Class
By Mike Martinez
John wiped the blood spatter from his goggles with an oil-stained rag. The children giggled from the far side of the table that the Thing lay on. They were here for their lesson. It was his job to teach them how to explore the pain levels of their play-things without dispatching them too soon or too easily. John held up the Thing’s recently severed finger, and tossed it into the crowd of children. A rapid melee broke out, and finally Fielder, a boy with so much promise, held up the prize and began to gnaw on the cut end of it. The other children sounded their disappointment over Fielder’s good fortune.
“You see children; you must be quick when removing the extra parts from your thing. You must do this with finesse and speed, otherwise the flesh tears. It ruins the whole effect, and you should always be proud to show off your work.” John reached over his head and pulled down the long mirror so his subject could see the latest improvement on its body.
(continued...Click
here for the rest of the story )
What's With All The Damned Zombies, Anyway?
By Tina L. Jens
Looking at the army of blood and sinew-spattered zombies shambling across the lawn, the three housemates had very different thoughts as they scrambled for safety.
Gina sniffled quietly, not from fear, but from heartbreak.
Jason, who put the leather-and-chrome stud in “stud-muffin;” who
had a sports car, a trust-fund, and an affinity for kink that
would have shocked a professional whore; was at the head of the
undead horde.
She thought it was sweet, in a post-apocalyptic, cheesey sort of
way, when he used his own gooey entrails to lasso her as she ran
for the door.
A second zombie was just a shuffle-step behind – Jarrod, Jason’s
best friend, and would-be rival for Gina’s affections. As the
gore-covered corpse, that just last night had been Jason,
knocked the lower jawbone and a flapping tongue off the monster
formerly-known as Jarrod, Gina thought it was romantic that he
was protecting her, even now, from other men.
(continued...Click
here for the rest of the story )
Tia Goes Pop
By Karen LaRocca
Tia is blue by Albuquerque.
Gone cold and stiff. Tia blue, straining against PVC. I
drift. Stop to ask for directions. Buy blankets and a rope. I
pull her from the trunk, careful to hold up her head. I kiss
her. Gentle, but electricity jolts my skin. Like we're magnets,
Tia and me. I can't help it, tears roll down my face. I am so
fucking tired. And I don't want to say goodbye. I want to keep
her warm, keep her with me.
She's all I have left.
***
Tia's all angles. All awkward limbs and bones jutting into me
when we dance, fuck. Plastic softens her, makes her mine. I rub
sheer gloss onto her lips. Fingering the gel, I mould her hair
into fat, round curls. I dress her in the outfit. Sleek.
Wet-looking -- my creation. The vinyl gives her figure a curve.
Fleshes out her hips and thighs like sausage casing. Tie me
tighter Tia tells me. I lace her PVC pants. I am yours. A gift.
She shines.
(continued...Click
here for the rest of the story )
That's not all there is! Click Here for More Stories
Think you can match that? Send us your stuff… For submission guidelines click here.
Our authors are always looking for feedback and kudos - feel free to send all comments to us at Killer-works and we'll make sure they reach the rightful owners! comments@killer-works.com
