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benjamin j kirby

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Sacrifice to the Gypsy Monkey

He had found it almost by accident, the strange stone monkey, an artifact worth a lot to an old guy in Chicago. Three days later he was on a cot in a hut in Fortaleza in the depths of something a lot like malaria. It was the monkey – the Gypsy Monkey, they called it – and it spoke to him in his twisted dreams. Make your choice, make your sacrifice.

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Book Day: Southern Gods

I am always impressed when writers can channel a different time.

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A Conversation with an Angel

Two days later I was sitting on my small balcony wondering what to expect, when the breeze shifted and the evening rain clouds rolled in. I ordered a pizza and ran down to the market for a six-pack. The rain had just started plinking on the roof when I heard the knock. I knew who it was.

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Boris

His eyes glanced at the polished desk to the right of the fireplace, papers stacked meticulously. A green lamp, a set of gold pens. Something that looked like some official stamp. Some envelopes. A gun.

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The Bay

The blade goes in, fast and easy. Butter and a hot knife. One hand has a good grip, pushing the knife in-between the ribs, past muscle into the heart and the left lung. One hand on his mouth. Can feel his hot breath on my palm.

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