There Is No Pirate Treasure in Indiana

by Zebulon Huset

They knew it wasn’t likely that pirates had made their way as far inland as Indiana, but they still couldn’t wait to find some sort of buried treasure in their back woods. It was in all of the movies. It wasn’t until the girls found a third human femur in the way of their treasure hunting that the police cordoned off the woods, ending their adventures for good—and sparking a lifelong interest in forensics for one sister, and something darker in the second which laid dormant for years until she found a local mentor, years before the police would.

Bernie’s Buyin’

by Kirsten Smith

He shouldn’t, but he’s doin’ it anyway.

Bernie can’t afford to sit here, the one bar in this half-horse town, buying the rest of us codgers rounds. I ‘spect we’re drinking grocery money.

“Anything ya like,” Bernie repeats, saluting us, his pals, with a Coors that’s surely gone warm.

Wives’ll soon be after us.

I wonder if this has to do with Annie’s recent passing. They never had kids. It’s just him and that mutt in the trailer out on the prairie.

“You like dogs, don’tcha, Lou?” Bernie asks, an imploring look in his eye. “You like old Buddy, dont’cha?”

Friends With Guns

by F.D. Jackson

The circumstances have suddenly changed; Will had been pounding Caleb in the face. Caleb has the upper hand now, pulling Will across the yard by his dislocated arm, Will howling in pain. Caleb slams Will’s head against the 47 Chevy’s wheel well.

A shot reverberates through the trees. Caleb leans over Will with his head resting on Will’s left shoulder. A hole the size of a child’s hand is just over the spot where Caleb’s heart would have been.

Will is wide-eyed, holding his breath, blood and tissue smattered on his face and in his hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Manchild

by G.J. Williams

In another life she’s on her way upstairs, her feet bare, the carpet deep. No one’ll say nothing doing. She’ll climb. She’ll run a bath, go for aromatic and take her time, knowing there’s no man sitting on the bottom step. The stairs are clear. Music is a distinct possibility.

This is Why She Never Gets Anything Accomplished

by Luanne Castle

She deftly placed some curves in her sketchbook until the vague shape of an elephant sitting on an overturned classroom wastebasket appeared. She erased the back and redrew, adding skin folds. After she finished water coloring, she signed the piece. That’s when a foot lifted off the page. The other feet followed suit, and the trunk wrapped around her pencil, so she reluctantly released it. The elephant erased itself, letting the colors float out the window.