Return toHome Page
Literary Fiction, Noir, Pulp Fiction, Short Stories


Excerpt from

They Walk Among Us
By Max Dunbar

The shift ended at eleven. She was expected at seven the next am. This left an eight-hour window in which to go home, wash, eat, sleep, shower, eat breakfast and get back to work. The last train was at eleven twelve, and her team did its habitual sprint to the station. They just made it, they always did, and Laura crashed on the train, her head leaning back against the rail. She thought: this train smells like wet pasta.

A hand on her thigh and she reared out of sleep in half a second. In this deserted carriage there was a guy sitting next to her: completely bald, late twenties or early thirties. Despite the polished clothes, Laura clocked him immediately as a madhead; he had that skinny, staring look about him.

‘Get the hell off me, honey,’ she said in a drowsy tone. Instead the man began to massage her thigh, knuckles working up and down, eyes looking directly into hers with a bleak and uncomprehending triumph that made Laura’s teeth grind. ‘Come on, love. I just got out of prison. I got nowhere to go.’

The violation was bad enough: the sob story broke Laura’s patience. “Do I look like I give a shit?” she said, and punched the man across the jaw.


About Swill
Guidelines
Sean Speaks
Author Bios
Why Do We Exist?
Links

Return toHome Page
Literary Fiction, Noir, Pulp Fiction, Short Stories