Then again, in the last hour before end time, before dawn's arrival and floodlit sky finds you - knuckles clasping bars, pitiless bayonet-like with eyes swishing truncheons at all the getaway air your lungs will never take; wheezing in growing fear to the sound of footsteps, clank of keys and gallow's humour as they prepare to Skuttle your short life, wall up clouds of their own pestilence nakedly mask each firing squad gathering for its fighting chance.
"Sympathetic Magic"
Paul Cameron Brown
Headlights swept up to the floodlit space.
"Operation Terror"
William Fitzgerald Jenkins
The sleek eyes of a cat stare floodlit topaz, ocelot rings round her burning mask.
"Coming to Grips with White Knuckles"
Paul Cameron Brown