I Use the Bar Stool Dad Used
the other bartender said he died right there in the middle of the floor, after sliding off his bar stool, sorta kickin’ and turnin’ purple. I figured Dad would die pissed off.
Tag: #shortstory
Short Story
My Name Is Aletta
“Ne felj!” His slender body arched inward; shoulders stooped as if he were trying to make himself less frightful. Impossible! My teeth chattered in response to his hushed question and attempted assurance. The blood that smeared across his lips and chin, the body of the young girl between us now emitting a thin mist as if her soul were rising from her cooling body. “Meggyilkoltad azt a lanyt.” I croaked out at last. But even in my fear my mind churned to remember the lighting, the smell, the shadow of the place in which I felt certain my life was finally beginning and soon to end.