Stories related to violence

Lower My Mace?

Turned out the drunk who hollered “$20 to blow this” was referring to his dashboard breathalyzer. Didn’t immediately lower my mace, though.


The guys left him, naked, shivering, blindfolded in the woods. A prank. An initiation. See you later, they said. But no one ever did.

Our Father

“He doesn’t mean it,” she says, pushing the bottle to her lips. “He really does love us.” I push the ice pack against my swollen eyes.

‘Til Death

“Trust this only,” she growled in my ear. “I’ll come back for you.” I shuddered as I pulled the knife from her spine and let her drop.


My windows are boarded, my doors locked. Sheltered in darkness from your love. Better to be hidden than looking over my shoulder.


As the spaceships flew over, mothers pointed. “Look, honey. What’s that?” Little boys waved, excited. Then the bombs started falling.