Tag Archives: Ficiton

Assumptions by Joshua Swainston

BorderWhat is that stupid saying? Never assume, because it makes an ass out of you and me. Well that pretty much fits the bill, except the only ass here is me. I was brought in, I thought, to handle the money. An intermediary. Winslow, the guy who hired me, runs some sort of coke outfit out of Vancouver, BC. The idea was to collect the cash and make sure it crossed the border at Blaine, Washington. I’d heard about the job from a friend of a friend. Winslow needed “a nobody.” I was told he was too heavily watched to take chances transferring his own cash. I didn’t ask who he was watched by. The money up front looked good, and in this economy even crooks have to get it where they can.

I found it funny that the cash was moving to the United States. I always thought the drug business worked with the money going out from the US and the drugs coming in, but I couldn’t tell you anymore than what I’d seen on TV.

I assumed that it would’ve been an easy job. I assumed I wasn’t going to be a patsy for some degenerate drug dealer offering me up for sacrifice in the wake of some bullshit I’d nothing to do with.

Right now I’m lying bound and blindfolded on a cold concrete floor. It gives me time to accept I assumed too much. I should’ve been on my guard.

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Red by Melissa Thayer

AuthorLissa B&WThe gun was clean. Loaded. Double-checked. His knife, the one he had carried always, she held a moment before strapping it to her belt. There were five who must die today. Outside her blinded window, dawn was about to break over the minarets. The muezzin sing-songed beckonings to adhan.

The men who took him last night hadn’t seen her. His body would not get cold before she enacted her revenge. The first was Gadi. He was a whore-lover. The second was Azzam, he had a scar across his face from his penchant for bar fights. Zero was famously addicted to opium. Marid sold carpets at the bazaar. Jibril was a gambler. Despite the call the adhan, she knew the hypocrites wouldn’t be among the crowds.

She holstered the gun, wrapped her face in a red scarf, and took to the dark streets. They had no idea who they had awakened. First stop, Madame Khalidah’s. She slipped in past the incensed parlor, whispering her question to the madame on the whereabouts of Gadi. The carpeted stairs hushed her steps, down the hall, third door on the left. She eased the door open. He was sleeping naked on the couch with a sweaty whore. He awoke to the pressure of the barrel against his temple.

She would never feel her lover’s lips again.


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