• Tinian Then Saipan by Ted Flanagan

    Tinian then Saipan, one worse than the other, Jenkins falling in that mangrove swamp, so utterly gone it was like he’d never been there. Whose hand is this? Gloria’s? Gloria’s been dead for years. Months? Yesterday? Better not let the Mulcahy kid make the collections. Useless. Never gets the count right, shorts all the working […]

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  • Ted Flanagan Pothole by Ted Flanagan

    Now Ramos and I, we’re in the groove. The kid on the stretcher is dead but still screaming, not dead enough yet. The ambulance gallops over every pothole like some kind of bullshit steeplechase. At a corner pause, we hear more gunshots outside and a block away, but barely notice. We’re doing a hundred things […]

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