S. Closson

“Still Beating” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #157

A sudden gust of wind tears through the empty bowels of the schoolhouse, whisking leaves and loose papers from their resting place along the bespeckled tiles, scattering them throughout the desolate halls.    All that noise, that horrible rustling, it would’ve stirred me from my slumber if I’d been able to sleep.    Nowadays, it appears sleep is a luxury only afforded to the dead.   How long had I been hiding here? A few days? Weeks? It might as well have been years. The idea of time itself seems...

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“Recompense” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #129

Connor’s face twisted in confusion as he looked up at the odd woman lingering in front of the check-in counter. The burly fellow had met his fair share of characters since inheriting ownership of Guppy’s Peak Inn, but this lady took the cake by a country mile.  “I’m sorry, miss...”  “Maude,” the woman said, her name hanging in the air like a frosty breath.  “Miss Maude, perhaps I misheard you. Your clients want to do what now?” Connor asked, a bemused frown forming under the tufts of his beard as he looked up at...

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“I Understand” by S. Closson

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #102

“I understand.” I must have said that to him a million times, the words flowing from my gullet like a hollow wind through wavering pines. The somber ballad of a lie retold.  Those words followed our every heart-to-heart, trailing behind them like the tail of a soaring kite. By the time of my great escape at the age of 18, that kite was in tatters, tumbling through still skies to the barren wasteland of what was once our family home. My mind runs rampant at a cheetah's pace, and my memory equally as spotty. Even ...

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“Stepping Through (Part 2)” by S. Closson

As Bryan Romel hurtles headlong through the mystic portal, every cell in his body screams out in objection.  Traveling between realms is a last resort for a reason.  Pandemonium runs rampant as his mind and body struggle to comprehend exactly what was happening to him. The year of preparation and training for this moment escapes him, much like the soundless screams emanating from his raw throat. The haunting roar looming around him is all-encompassing, steadily growing in its intensity with each passing moment. Even ...

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“Lucky, Lucky” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #98

“Lucky, lucky, lucky,” then man coos as he kicks me in the face.“Looks like your luck’s finally ran out, hasn’t it, Siegel?” he asks.   Stars fill my vision as I am sent reeling backwards, the hard concrete floor is there to catch me as I land, knocking the wind out of me. If I wasn’t bruised before, I am now. This is what I get for trying to be a good guy. I spit out a mouthful of blood onto the floor as I roll over onto my side. I can’t help but groan. My jaw is aching something fierce before looking back up at my ...

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“Stepping Through” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #98

Bryan Romel takes a hand off the steering wheel and bats the fringe of teal hair out of his half-closed eyes. He’s been driving down the interstate for sixteen—no, seventeen hours, now, the last four with the A/C wide open and the window’s down. However long it’s been, it feels like an eternity. The absence of cell service and a working radio has done little to help in his fight to remain conscious. There’s not even anything interesting to gander at, the scenery is as uniform as it is bland. The idea of pulling over for a little nap is al...

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“The Horrible Home of Ingrid Claudette” by S. Closson

There once was a time when folks would willingly enter the home of Ingrid Claudette. That sounds crazy now, sure, but it’s the gospel truth.  Some say it was because the landing wasn’t in such a sorry state back then. The pair of railings that lined the sides of the front porch weren’t quite so jagged and toothy. The windows seemed friendlier somehow, more inviting and less like a pair of eyes glaring out over a gaping maw.  Theories as to why so many people could have been fooled into staying on the unhallowed groun...

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“Im/mortal Enemy” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #94

“He’s not going to take that shot, no way. That would be his ninth double,” Marcus says, looking cross.“The man can do it, I’m telling you,” Jay replies, “Darren’s a lightweight compared to him.”“I’m willing to bet 'em fifty bones he won’t.” “Are you that desperate to lose your money? You do know who he is, right? If not, you better recognize. Tommy Chicago ain't no chump,” Jay says before leaning back against his chair, a sneer forming along his rat-like face. “I could give a rat’s ass who he is. And, for the record, he doesn’t lo...

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“The Promise” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #92

I stare ahead at the red light and wonder how I let this happen. Showing up late to my own wedding, how absurd. An endless line of cars streams by mine as we sit in the left-hand lane. The sound of my blinker’s incessant clicking causes my eyes to twitch as I plead with the gods of the traffic light to turn green.My vows, I can barely remember what I’d written down. Were they even any good? I resist the urge to pull out the cue cards I have tucked away in my suit jacket as I try to think back on them. Was there too much flowery language? Not...

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“Overdue” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #91

If there had been some way to cross the chasm without alerting the pair of guards beneath him, Troy hadn’t thought of it yet.His stomach churned something fierce as he snuck a peek over the side of the rockface and caught sight of just how far away his intended target was. The access terminal he needed to reach in order to get to the forbidden city must have been a good two stories below him, maybe more depending on the angle. Every move seemed to disturb his surroundings, shaking loose a flurry of the red topsoil high into the air, forcing ...

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“Good Intentions” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #76

“Well, well, well. . . If it isn’t the illustrious Sandra Salvatore. I never thought I’d see you again, dear sister. And in one of my cells, no less! How delightful.”  “Heh, I’m honestly surprised you’ve got enough grey matter left between those cauliflower ears to think at all, Becca, much less taunt.”   “I see you have still got that same lip. I guess some things never change.”   “And some things do. You’re helping these invaders oppress your own bloody people? Look at yourself, Becca. I knew you we...

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“The Death of Duty” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #72

***Author's note: I've never really tried doing this type of story before, so any and all feedback on how to improve it or your thoughts overall would be most appreciated! I hope you enjoy! ***December 12th, 8:30pm Police Station, Roosevelt, NC  Okay, so I’m still not entirely sure what the hell is to be gained from this, but if the counselor really thinks that keeping my feelings a damn diary will help my wife comprehend my daily stress or whatever, fine. I love her and I want this to work, so here it is. (It should go withou...

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“Be Kind, Please Rewind” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #69

“You are one rotten son of a bitch, Marv,” Jerry says.   Jerry is my younger brother, and yes, he’s always this pleasant.  “Jer, there’s literally nothing I can do differently to get this place to be even the least bit profitable,” I say, gesturing to the small monitor on my desk.   The CCTV feed cycles through the various cameras in the store, each shot is as devoid of human life as the last. What I’m saying is the truth, and Jerry knows it. I can tell by the way he’s nervously chewing on that bushel of a...

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“A Killer Secret” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #68

On the side of the tracks that no one bothers to wander except the homeless and the hopeless, JP and I sat quietly behind the burnt-out shell of an old Firebird. Were things ‘business as usual’, we would be halfway through a case of Coors right now, plotting our next longshot plan for fortune and fame. The past week had changed all of that.  For a fleeting moment earlier in the morning, I’d completely forgotten about the murders that had rocked our block. I woke up happy as a lark, fished out some clean-ish clothes out of the sma...

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“The Hunt For Devil's Island” by S. Closson

Submitted to Contest #67

The wall of water crashed down upon the bow of my faithful Man-O-War as if it were a punch thrown by Poseidon himself. The unforgiving winds bellowed with such force that even the veteran crewmates aboard the Annabelle Lee were left quivering in their rain-soaked boots as we navigated the Strait of Hades. We were an unwelcome presence in those unholy waters. The sudden appearance of that powerful storm had made that fact perfectly clear.  As the determined Mr. Fredricks, my trusted sailing master, fought against sea’s pul...

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