“Daddy” by Valda Moore

It’s eleven o’clock in the morning but dark as night . . .

“Take Two” by Paul Renault

I sat on a railroad tie along the driveway, with my bad leg stretched out in front of me and the bike wheel across my lap. After deflating the tube, I worked the tool around and peeled the tire out of the rim. I kept having to stop to wipe the sweat from my eyes . . .

“No Prescription Required for Murder” by ID Smith

University College, London. Johnson marched me through the clipped campus, down echoing corridors, past alabaster busts and locked doors. At the end of a long corridor, he stopped at a door marked Private.

“It’s never too late for university, Cartier,” he said, knocking.

“Some Country” by Jacqueline Freimor

In the open side door of the school, Koenig leaned on his broom and watched the junior high children stream from the building at the sound of the bell. Line after line, they spilled through the front doors like cockroaches from the drains in the basement. He pictured a colony of roaches wearing yellow Star of David armbands and laughed . . .

“Idle Hands and the Devil You Know” by Paul Renault

He wanted to talk, and you know me—I’m no psychic. I didn’t know what he was thinking, and Jerry didn’t come out and say he was going to crawl into a garbage bag and off himself . . .

“The Seeds You Plant” by Christian Aguiar

What other parents spent on music academies and study trips to New Zealand, she had spent on this little packet . . .

“On the Way to the Clinic” by Randolph Splitter

On the platform between the subway tracks, a young woman was playing the violin. A few dollar bills and coins were scattered over the inside of her case. She played semiclassical versions of pop tunes that Maria couldn’t quite recognize. The music was nice, and the young woman had a sweet, pleasant face, but as soon as she got onto the crowded subway car Maria knew that she had made a mistake. It was a simple procedure, they had said, but not that simple . . .

“Revenant” by Gerri Brightwell

The stink of Thames mud woke me and I knew he was back . . .