By Steve Shepherdson He slowed down, waved the man across the road, then ran him over under the cloud spattered moon. The man had nodded gratefully when crossing, never expecting the growl of death to arrive so soon after the polite exchange. The driver had planned it all. He would tell the police the man just stepped out. ‘Unavoidable’ is the word he would use when asked. Pulling his cab over, he exited and began to shout, making a scene for the blinking CCTV above. His face

By Romany Patton Gaston burned Belle’s books today, I watched her chase charred pages as they blew away. She was meant for more— a scholar, not this provincial life. Now she walks past the baker, face buried in a story to hide her eye. Gaston boasts in the tavern, singing nightly, ten pints deep, that he has biceps to spare. No one says no to Gaston— it’s written all over Belle. The town sleeps. Except them. One punch too many. The handsome brute finally caused her to crack.

By Cat London Oh! I thought your eye was shot The veins were bulged The blood was clot And dear! Sincere apologies I thought your silky brains were cream! Of course, I would have had you for tea. See I thought you were dead And couldn’t join me, So I planned to use your bones as platters Skin as placemats Tongue for batter Scones of scapula Tendons for toast And nail-beds for flavor A hot bottom roast! Apologies! Truly! The plans weren’t set, I would have had you for tea, But