Category: Thriller

THE GORGE

~ B.G. Smith

by B.G. Smith

Death penalty protesters gathered at dawn when the state unveiled its answer to Seymour Graff’s botched execution. It had taken old Seymour an hour to die last month.

The Gorge – a 250-foot chasm with blood-darkened stone – would serve as both execution chamber and permanent tomb.

Convicted killer Rodney James Harris sneered as the mechanical arm positioned him over the terminal abyss. Clink. Clank. Through bulletproof glass, a small teddy bear clutched by the victim’s mother caught his eye.

“I’d do it again,” he spat.

His screams echoed off the walls for an hour until only the wind remained.

BLIND DATE

~ B.G. Smith

by B.G. Smith

It was the perfect first date until the second Margarita made her drowsy.

He was a blue-eyed hunk of muscle introduced through a friend of a friend.

“You’ll like him, trust me.” Darla’s red lipstick matched the Cabernet in her glass. “He’s a surgeon.”

The crack under the basement door welcomed sunrise and new beginnings.

A handcuff bit into her wrist where it met rusty pipe.

Approaching sirens lifted her spirit.

Fingers found her hidden tracker.

The door creaked. Heels clicked down wooden stairs.

Darla appeared, red smile intact. “You’ll like him, trust me.”

The sirens faded.

“Time for surgery.”

THE DINNER SHOW

~ B.G. Smith

by B.G. Smith

Marcia smiles at the line of customers waiting to enter Marcia’s Murder Mysteries Dinner Show. Enthusiastic reviews exclaimed, “Very realistic show!” and “Delicious stew!” But before her recent idea, Marcia struggled to keep the lights on.

Today, business is booming. Besides, Marcia figures she’s providing a valuable service to the community. After all, New York City has the largest homeless population in the United States, according to HUD. Billing six shows Friday through Sunday, years could pass before she ran out of fresh bodies. Not to mention, her customers weren’t the only ones acquiring a taste for the savory stew.

EXPEDIENT DEMENTIA

~ B.G. Smith

by B.G. Smith

Ant wheeled his oxygen tank into the recreation room of the Palm Valley Assisted Living Facility. A television blared from the wall, “Human remains were found in Lake Mead this morning. Police believe the remains are that of a man who died from a gunshot wound in the mid-1970s.” He chuckled, recalling how difficult it was to get Vincenzo’s legs to fit into the 55-gallon drum. An orderly appeared in the doorway with a dark-haired woman.

“Mr. Russo, your daughter is here to see you.”

As he’d done since the lake started to recede, Ant pretended not to recognize Sofia.