| Fiction |
WHISPERS IN THE DARK
Whispers in the dark is a weekly short story in which weird
is the norm. An exercise in strangeness, the stories are
never to be taken too seriously, but should never be taken
too lightly. For if you lay awake long enough in the dark,
you’re bound to hear a whisper sooner or later.
Loser
By Kevin Steele
The assassin/ thief swung the massive Vorpal sword in a wide
arc as the demon priestess leapt into the air as he’d
anticipated. The master assassin/ thief spun in a 360-degree
pirouette and effortlessly sliced through the demon/
priestess’ torso just above the navel. She shrieked in agony
as her corpulent body split in two, poisonous entrails
spewing onto the linoleum floor. With a defiant final
scream, Kimbra the Devil Mistress of Pazuzal vomited an
acidic geyser of blood from her black lips. The assassin/
thief effortlessly side-stepped the deadly venom.
“Hah! I, Martan the Most Glorious Master Thief, Son of the
Vampire Queen and Bastard King with Eyes of Fire and Hands
like Roses, have slain yet another of your vile ilk! I shall
soon be the Assassin King and then I shall destroy the
Murder God to become the Hand of Death,” the assassin/ thief
declared. Martan slung the blood from his blade hautily and
sheathed it. “But, first, I must go to your Den of the Dark
Oracle Delta Phi and exterminate the rest of your diabolical
Coven sisters!”
Martin placed the two halves of the body in heavy-duty
garbage bags, discarded her gory clothes and underwear, then
vacuumed up the remaining entrails and fluids. Humming his
“theme song”, Martin placed the silver sorority ring next to
the others in the lock box and walked over to the worktable
to sharpen his blood-hungry sword.