A Siring

By Dan Klefstad “I was starving, I couldn’t help it.” Camilla wipes blood from her chin and points. “He’s in the car.” “How could you be starving?” I put my stump in one jacket sleeve while my left arm hurriedly finds the other hole. “You had at least six pints before you left the house.”… Continue reading A Siring

Wicked Road

I recently re-discovered this, the very first short story I ever wrote (many, many years ago), and decided to publish it here. It is somewhat amateur, but I hope you will find it amusing. ◊ ♦ “Jet lag, mon ami?” Chester North did not recognize the jovial, drawling voice which had so suddenly pierced the… Continue reading Wicked Road

Blown Head, Black Dance

I hear his poorly maintained car before I get around the bend. The cabin is lit, since it is almost dark. Everything that Erin did seemed stupid, yet he had never been arrested. He conducted himself with a righteousness. Confidence I guess is a better camouflage than paranoia, a camouflage I should learn, since I… Continue reading Blown Head, Black Dance