Phyllis Souza

I’m a mean son of a bitch. I bark. I growl. Grrr! Don’t mess with me. You’ll regret it. My name is Killer. Sometimes I hear music in the walls—a circus tune or the sound of a thousand tiny paws tapping at the window glass. The melody never stops. It... Read More

Sybil is fifty and a caregiver. She’s exhausted, worn out from always putting her stepmother’s needs before her own. Most nights, she can’t sleep. She helps her stepmother get dressed, counts her pills, and tries to decide what to cook. No matter what she does, her stepmother always finds something... Read More

She used to dismiss my flaws—my anxious pulling at my eyebrows, the nervous biting of my nails, even trimming my toenails right there on the coffee table—as if these habits mattered little to her. What once felt like a warm acceptance now weighs on me like a quiet betrayal. I... Read More

The relentless heat has left the cowboy parched, his throat yearning for a cold beer. His rugged figure, clad in a weathered brown shirt with fringe along the sleeves and a ten-gallon hat that shields his worn face, exudes a resilience born of countless dusty trails. His well-traveled boots, more... Read More

I'm Alejandro. A dog. Chihuahua, to be exact. My owner, Al, is an upholsterer. We live together at his house. It's big! Al has a friend, Chuck. I don't like him. Sometimes when Al isn't looking, he kicks me. One day, Chuck drops by. He doesn't call. Just stands on... Read More

It was no small scene when they woke. The dead lay in pine boxes. Decomposing bodies leaked through holes at the bottom of their coffins—maggots had tunneled through contaminated soil and suckled on the evil roots of trees. Worms transformed into snakes. The snakes slithered back into the boxes. They... Read More

Harold flew out of a giant oak and landed with his feet on the ground. Three toes forward and one back. Like a Spartan with a red plume, he raised his head and showed off his vermilion dome. He flapped his wings and propelled himself onward. The turkey gobbled as... Read More

"Hey, look at this," Alice said. "A hearse for sale. Five hundred dollars." "Who's selling it?" "See for yourself." Alice tossed her husband the newspaper. "’60 Cadillac Hearse,” he replied. "Says to call Max. Hope I'm not too late." An hour later, Herman knocked on the door of the mortuary.... Read More

DO NOT DISTURB hung from the outside doorknob. She was a schoolmarm who couldn't resist a good-looking referee, tall and built. The morning after the game. Seedy motel room. The smell of stale cigarettes clinging to the walls. His striped black and white jersey and trousers lay crumpled up on... Read More