« Previous Issue | Main | Next Issue »

October 6, 2006


A body is found in the desert.

Who is it? How did the body come to be there? What is unusual about the scene?

Comments (3)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit

Jim: Death Valley

The desert plays tricks with a man’s mind. Being alone for too many hot days and too many cold nights can strip away lucidity like the ants strip flesh from bones. But there’s gold out there and you only have to keep enough sanity to recognize it.

Hank found the bones scattered in a deep arroyo around midday. He dug a shallow grave and put the bones in, assembling them the best he could. He said a few words and moved on.

But not before checking the big, humming metal disk to see if there was any gold in it.

Comments (2)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit

David: True Story

“So, there are no tracks around him anywhere?”

“Nope,” Dad replied.

“Did… the wind blow them away?”

“Nope,” he repeated.

“He’s got a ring on his finger. Why?” my brother wondered.

“He’s married? A married hiker? It explains the backpack.”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with his lying dead in the middle of the desert?”

“Beats me. Maybe his wife killed him, dumped him here, and erased her tracks as she left.” I looked at Dad. He shook his head.

“We don’t have enough information,” I concluded erroneously. “Let’s think about the guy in the elevator again.”

Comments (5)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit

Ted: Since David stole my story...

I noticed the body at the most unopportune time, two seconds before Jessi. Most of the time, I just ignore them. Not this time. Jessi saw the body an instant before I did. Her screams echoed off the walls.

"There is a dead roach in my ice cream sundae!" she screamed as the waiter ran up, her eyes starting to bug out as she doubled over vomiting.

I turned to Jacque, apologetically shaking his hand as I slipped him a franklin, and picked her up to leave; knowing I would never again be allowed to bring her to Cafe Renfield.

Comments (1)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit

Stacy: Wild Thing

She approached the body cautiously, nostrils flaring at the acrid scent brought to her on the dry wind.

The man did not appear to be breathing, nor was he moving, yet there was no sign of blood. She stepped carefully around the body, over deep tire tracks, and the multiple footprints of others. She nudged his hand experimentally. No response. Bolder now, she touched his face, but his open eyes stared at the dusty ground, unseeing. The cord around his neck stirred in the breeze.

The coyote gave the body one last sniff and trotted off to join her pack.

Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit