Watch Us Go by Jessica Barksdale
My parents named all our cars: Wilfred, Arthur, Barnie. By the time my father bought the Volkswagen squareback, no one was in the mood to name anything but death.
Game Theory by Merridawn Duckler
Becky is a bully. Her sister, Corey, should have been a boy. These are facts which Corey knows to be as certain as the word facts, fat middle letters fenced in by two taller guard letters.
December by Fred Muratori
Death is rarely timed to match the logical end of something else. My father died in December, but my mother died in January.
My Love is a Worthwhile Horror by Stephen Wack
She wishes to introduce me to her son who might be vicious. “Might be?” I say. “Yes,” she says.
The Accident by Neil Shepard
No exit, here–just a recurring curve of memory. Turn south, drive with me a while down Route 5 to a blind-rise.