Del Sol SFF Review

Deadly Dank Walls, Samurai Nightmares, A Wolf at the Door, Mayhem in the Mall, Should Have Listened to the Shrieking Puff,  A Really Bad Day Out of the Office WET WALL —Edward Ahern UNCOMMON GROUND --Jason J. McCuiston THE WOLF --Timothy O. Davis SMOKING IN THE BACK --Jeffrey Thompson THE SIGH OF THE SHRIEKING PUFF --Ria Rees OUT OF OFFICE --Mark Cantrell

CHAPTER ONE: NIGHT RUN   Boston was not from Massachusetts. In fact, he wasn’t sure where the nickname originated. Maybe because he had one of those faces, a sort of slack jawed, relaxed look that allowed him to acquire a moniker that had no relation to who, or where, he was? Boston was an accountant. Or at least that’s what he told people. Not because he was into some next level dark net covert government engagements or some organization where they use euphemisms like “wet work” and where  accidents  happened on a global scale just so gas prices could remain “average.” No, Boston just did not care to talk about what he did, and he had plenty of scars and not enough friends to seem legit. It wasn’t that he accepted the nickname or dissuaded his coworkers or friends or the occasional girlfriend -- not that he kept romantic entanglements entangled too long -- from using the nickname. Fuck, his cousin had been calling him Boston since they were both in grade school. Now they were gray-hea

Niles was snoring, but he did that every night. The snorting reverberated off the concrete walls of our cell. I was used to it, we’d been bunkmates for a year, ever since his roomie got released and mine died from a knifing in the prison yard. Niles was an armed robber. I was convicted of manslaughter. The prosecuting attorney had hissed at me after the trial that I deserved murder two, but wasn’t sure the jury would agree. We were both innocent, of course. Our seven by ten-foot cell was a bit bigger than those of older prisons, but still cramped. More so because Niles was a big boy, pushing three hundred pounds, less than a quarter of it fat. When he’d moved in, he’d told me to get the hell out of the bottom bunk, and I hadn’t argued. I turned an ear into my pillow to muffle his noise. And winced at a new sound, a harsh chirring. I couldn’t tell if it came from inside my head or from across the cell. I shook my head a couple times, and it was gone. The only noise left was Niles’ throa

Out of the hazy, painful darkness, Touma whispered. “This is an evil place.” “Spare me your superstitious nonsense! It is shelter, and the first we’ve seen all day.” Kaito replied. “Which we would not need if you had chosen the path of honor,” Touma snapped. “And it  is  an evil place, a haunt of demons and ghosts! You saw that cursed statue outside!” Kusai Reo opened his eyes at the sound of the bitter argument. Throbbing pain consumed his side, a cold agony coursing through his entire body. He heard a loud pattering on an unseen roof, could smell rain. Flickering flames licked at the small, gloomy space, producing more smoke than heat or light. Reo’s teeth chattered, filling his ears with the sound of rattling bones. His stiffening body convulsed with chills. The other two samurai stopped cursing each other at his moan. “Easy, my friend,” Onashi Kaito whispered, gently pressing a cool cloth to Reo’s head, trying to soothe his terrible pain. Kaito was the youngest and highest-ranking

Marina bent down to help the customer try on the shoes, and David could see the whale tail of her thong underwear peeking out over her low-rise dress pants.  I shouldn’t be looking . His cheeks filled with heat and he turned away.  David walked through the grey metal shelves stacked with shoe boxes and pushed open a worn metal door into the service hallway. He pulled out his Du Maurier king size and struck a match. He sucked in the acrid taste of the match with the first drag of his smoke. A cloud of tobacco smoke billowed out in the hall, and David’s shoulders dropped a little lower, the tension starting to ebb away. He held the cigarette in his off hand, as he’d cut his other hand with a box cutter. The store manager, Bob, had just laughed at him and told him he was being a wuss. David took a deep breath and slid down to the polished concrete floor of the hallway, his long legs nearly stretching across to the other side. He ashed his cigarette in the large coffee can next to him, the