by Rebecca Lyons
Rebecca Lyons is a fantasy and science fiction writer. She’s had stories published in Strange Days, Pulphouse, Women of Darkness II, and MZB’s Fantasy Magazine, and is an active member of SFWA.
Caroline was standing on her porch briskly sweeping broken glass into a dust pan when Ned Brantley wandered by, bottle in hand.
“Something happen to your window, Miz Arquette?” he called.
She felt her back stiffen automatically. The man was a braying donkey. No, he was slimier than that. He knew very well what happened to her window. He had been the one to throw the stone.
She swept harder. The workmen had been to her house this morning boarding up her picture window, but they’d done nothing about the glass except track it around.
A snicker came from behind her, and she heard the sound of Ned Brantley’s bottle being trailed against her fence. Fighting the urge to grit her teeth, she glanced his way. His eyes looked tiny where he squinted at her in a grin. A pig. The man was a pig. She watched as he wandered into the street. No, that still wasn’t right.
With an angry sigh, she set the broom against the side of the porch. There was only one way to find out, she thought, abruptly making a decision.
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