Issue Three

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ROB BOFFARD son of a bitch had been whistling. He was walking down the damn aisle in front of the cells in those ridiculous glasses, holding his linen, whistling. ‘Sure, sure, I can kill him’, Ratbucket thought. He deserves it. ‘Little punk. Lookit him.’ Jackie had begun humming. Something tuneless, whistling around his tongue and out the side of his mouth like steam. He was drawing the last symbol of the outermost circle, a delicate curlicue, tracing the shape in the ground, bending it around a rock. Almost there. He didn't hear Ratbucket come up behind him. He didn't hear him rotate the spike so it jutted from his hand like a misshapen finger. He didn't even hear Ratbucket's breathing, which had become harsh and quick and shallow. But he smelt Ratbucket's sweat. He felt the air behind him shift. He saw the light change ever so slightly. He kept working, putting the final touch on the symbol, a small dot above it in the dirt. He did this just as Ratbucket swung the spike down towards his shoulder blades, at which point he blinked out of existence. With no flesh to plunge into, Ratbucket's strike went a lot further than he'd anticipated. He tumbled to the dirt, obliterating Jackie's work, a cloud of dust exploding around his body. His mouth was a shocked O. Jackie reappeared in front of him; right on the spot where he'd swung the spike down. Ratbucket stared. His mouth wanted to form words, but his brain simply wouldn't let it. Jackie reached down and plucked the spike from Ratbucket's hand. He held it up to the light, as if studying it for imperfections. Then, in one movement, he reached down and slid it into Ratbucket's throat. By now, the gang at the other end of the yard was screaming. They were running towards him, their faces shot through with anger and fear. Jackie stood up, pulling the spike with him, and blinked to a spot alongside one of them, a squat man with a greasy ponytail. Jackie caught him in the side, plunging the spike in and out like an assegai. He had started humming again. The others froze, mid-stride, staring in horror. They tried to run, but Jackie simply moved with them, popping in and out of existence. Blood stained the dust black.
A guard in the tower had taken aim. He knew what he was seeing wasn't possible, but he knew his job, and he had a gun. He managed to line Jackie up in his sights – he'd paused after taking down the last gang member – and pulled the trigger. The bullet appeared in mid-air above Jackie, pointing down towards him, spinning gently. He'd frozen it with a look. He cocked his head to one side, and the bullet turned with it. A flick of his eyes, and it shot off, burying itself in the wall of the yard. More guards appeared, boiling out of the doors to the cells, screaming for backup. They began firing. Jackie stopped their bullets, turning the air before him into a tableau of metal. He stared around him and, as one of the guards would tell the governor later that day, he seemed to be counting the number of dead. Jackie stretched, raising his arms to the sky, his hands linked. The frozen bullets fell, clinking against each other. He tossed the spike onto the bullets, and then wandered towards the guards. They stood, frozen, watching him approach. At the last moment, three of them broke, running for the cells and slamming the door behind them. But the youngest – a new recruit, his first month on the job – kept his gun steady, aiming it at Jackie's chest. Jackie looked at him, pulling the guard's eyes to his own. He blinked the last few steps, and the guard fell backwards on his ass, a tight gasp escaping his lips. Jackie crouched down until he and the guard were face to face. A little slick of blood dotted the chest of his prison shirt, forming a pattern of its own. Casually, he reached forward and tugged the gun from the guard's grip. The guard's name was Mason and his eyes had grown wide as saucers. He licked his dry lips as Jackie turned the gun this way and that. “Can you stop shooting at me, please?” said Jackie. It came out as a mumble. Without even realising it, Mason was nodding. Jackie gave him the most dazzling smile – it came out of nowhere and was, Mason would later tell his wife, like the smile of a child. He held out the gun, still grinning, gesturing at Mason to take it. Then he blinked back to the centre of the empty yard. As Mason watched, Jackie cast around for his stick, inhaling a delighted breath when he spotted it. He crouched down again, and began to draw, sketching more symbols into the dust. DUST
Page 1: Issue Three JUNE 2013 Volume 1, Iss
Page 5 and 6: JUNE 2013 CLEAN CLOTHES Short Story
Page 7 and 8: Lauren Hasty is a misplaced souther
Page 9 and 10: Charlie ran down the street, bare f
Page 11 and 12: She inhaled deep and then exhaled,
Page 13 and 14: called to her, she knew she wouldn
Page 15 and 16: PREDATOR by JUDITH DORE PREDATOR by
Page 17 and 18: Adam and I have been coming to this
Page 19 and 20: “Holy fuck,” he says. He falls
Page 21 and 22: Sound travels strangely underwater.
Page 23 and 24: UGLYLIGHTS by THE UGLYLIGHTS ICA BO
Page 25 and 26: magnifying glass with a lamp direct
Page 27 and 28: what they meant to her, and especia
Page 29 and 30: even if none of the other kids woul
Page 31 and 32: Nobody heard him, not even Cassie w
Page 33 and 34: pleas for mercy but breaking glass,
Page 35 and 36: When Janie came to her senses, she
Page 37 and 38: It was a choked, guttural voice, li
Page 39 and 40: more companions to join him in his
Page 41: Jackie squatted in the prison yard,
Page 45 and 46: Jackie squatted in the prison yard,
Page 47 and 48: The Laugher was in the front of the
Page 49 and 50: he wanted to dispense some vigilant
Page 51 and 52: ITH TWO L’s by COLIN JAMES
Page 53 and 54: TOR STREET by LAST HOUSE ON VECTOR
Page 55 and 56: “I have your word?” Richard wen
Page 57 and 58: PEEPING TOM’S TOM’s N
Page 59 and 60: PEEPING TOM’s MASTERPIECE by NATE
Page 61 and 62: PICK UP LINE by DAN LEE PICK UP LIN
Page 63 and 64: After a few minutes of listening to
Page 65 and 66: DEN GROW? by HOW DOES ONE’s GARDE
Page 67 and 68: As that vast maw yawned there befor
Page 69 and 70: Night had barely fallen when two hi
Page 71 and 72: man began to escort Kevin down the
Page 73 and 74: “Caitlyn. What about yours?”
Page 75 and 76: “Werewolves?” Just hearing the
Page 77 and 78: SHA ANNIE ANNIEN
Page 79 and 80: SHADES OF BLUE by ANNIE NEUGEBAUER
Page 81 and 82: EYER’s RING by CASSIE MEYER’s R
Page 83 and 84: out and rubbed the dirt and dry mud
Page 85 and 86: money before speaking, “How’s i
Page 87 and 88: eflection in the mirror. Terry’s
Page 89 and 90: simple chain, an identical ring sit
Page 91 and 92: The price of admission to their clu
Page 93 and 94:
knocked on his door, Boy snuck up b
Page 95 and 96:
Boy placed the rabbit in the center
Page 97 and 98:
to let go but Boy easily backhanded
Page 99:
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Issue Three

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