Return To Gomorra, Part 3
By Jason Pere So far Coot Jenkins, Rafi Hamid, and Jack “Black Jack” Jackson had not seen hide nor hair of any other living being since their arrival on Whateley Isle. The entire estate festered like one giant dying thing. From barren trees to the cracked earth and...
Return To Gomorra, Part 2
By Jason Pere The door to the Gomorra sheriff’s office squeaked in protest as it swung inward. The splintered piece of wood hung precariously from its hinges as it had yet to be properly repaired since the latest bout of anarchy that had befallen the town. Warren...
Return to Gomorra, Part 1
By Jason Pere Nighttime on Gomorra’s outskirts was never completely silent. Somewhere a nameless critter howled or squawked at the moon. Occasionally a lonesome traveler whistled to themselves on the road leading towards Sacramento, and every so often gunfire...
Aces Low, Act V
By Owen Lean “Yep. Had no problem punching folks… but them things he made me fight… well, I tell you Mister Essex, they weren’t natural.” Lewis “Grizzly” Evans stared off into the middle distance as he reiterated the reasons he was ‘retiring’ as a prize fighter. ...
Aces Low: Act IV
By Owen Lean May, 1882 “Oh, for God’s sake, hurry up and die.” Christine Perfect snarled. “Or stop your incessant baying. Either works.” Understandably skittish ever since we’d witnessed her transformation, she anxiously sniffed at Cheyenne’s thin, dry air. “I’m...
Aces Low Act III
By Owen Lean May 1882 There are specific phrases in the modern parlance that are overused to the point of becoming as meaningless as they are odious. "It's been one of those days" is most definitely one of them. However, should one find oneself chained to a...
Aces Low – Act II
By Owen Lean May, 1882Lane Healey and I planned to rendezvous two weeks later in Santa Fe. Now, as I approached the San Miguel church, I could see the simpleton standing in its shadow looking impatient. Good. If he was irritated, he’d be easier to manipulate. On the...
Aces Low – Act I
By Owen Lean April, 1882There is absolutely nothing lucky about the number seven—anyone who tells you that is a fool. As I have discovered over the years, the truly potent number is one higher. It came as no surprise to me then that the clock in the town square struck...
Blood In The Dust
By Jeff Bailey Wendy Cheng, formerly known as Xiong, slumped against a hitching rail and surveyed her shadow cast by the midday sun. She traced the outline of her shotgun stock that jutted out over her shoulder. She’d seen that shadow for years. She tried to remember...
Falling Star
by Jeff Bailey In most of the world, sunset was the sun’s warm embrace across the world before it receded. In Gomorra, it was the night’s slicing talons through the sky until its grip tightened to darkness. The fingers clawed over ruined rooftops, but hadn’t yet...