Time for a blast from the past. (How I hate that phrase, and yet I’ve inflicted it on you. Deplorable, but kind of funny.) Late last year I gave you a 100-word flash fiction piece that revisited James and Jessica Kinter. This week, I give you another.

I have a couple of longer Kinter stories in mind, and I’ll get to them at some point. Hopefully, if you’re a fan of the series (and why wouldn’t you be?), an occasional side story will be enough to tide you over.

The prompt for this week comes from The Prediction:

100 words maximum, excluding the title, of flash fiction or poetry using all of the three words above (‘estranged’, ‘interest’ and ‘toast’) in the genres of horror, fantasy or science fiction.


He felt a queer indifference and almost no pain. That was probably the morphine.

She took little interest. She had her peanut butter toast and the small television set in the corner. Thoroughly occupied.

She didn’t matter, anyway. It was the brother. He’d done it. He was the one running the show.

Looking back at his estranged appendage, he realized he could still feel the fingers, though the nerves were good and severed. Even if he made it out alive, he’d be maimed for life.

Ripped asunder.

But he wasn’t going to make it out. He knew that, too.