Short Fiction: Rosie & June Get a Room.

Rosie & June “It’s hotter’n Satan’s nutsack.” Rosie shoved a lollipop in her mouth. “Satan’s nutsack?” June glanced over from the driver seat. “Really?” Rosie shrugged, staring between tall pines, blending as they sped past. Louisiana was a convection oven, especially in summer. And they'd spent ample time unsticking thighs from leather seats since crossing state …

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The First Icky Spirit

The first spirit I ever saw was not a good one. I won’t use the word ‘ghost’ here because ghosts, to me, imply our dearly departed (or at least something taking human form) and this was not one of those. This was something icky. And of course it was in the middle of the night. …

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