by Lori M. Myers
The man slouched against the attic wall. He balanced the 1941 pin-up calendar atop his bony thighs, and crossed off each date just like he had been doing for the past eleven years, ten months, six days. Miss January was his favorite, her once rosy skin now a dingy memory on frayed paper. [...]
"91366"
(short play)
http://www.ladyjanemiscellany.com
"Trailings
of the Other
Kind"
(ezine:
Drops of
Crimson)
A large object like a flash of black lightning ran out of the mist-shrouded graveyard and into the path of Dr. Brandon Royce’s pick-up truck. He heard the sound of flesh against metal. The object flew into the air on impact, slammed against the truck’s windshield in a heap, then seemed to relax onto the road. The dented vehicle bounced as it ran over the victim.

"Ramona" 