Red Rabbit

by Alex Grecian

“You shot me,” he said. “Well, I said I was gonna shoot you.” “Yeah, but you really shot me. And you didn’t give me a true three count, neither.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” McDaniel said. Rigby lowered his hand to the floor and the toad hopped away under the chair. “If wishes were fishes, horses would ride,” Rigby said. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” McDaniel said.

He picked up a potted ham from the stack beside the coach and tossed it at the crowd. It bounced in the grass and rolled to a stop against Hiram’s foot. “You want meat?” “That will not do, sir,” Hiram said. “What is wrong with you people?” Benito said.

From a practical and legal standpoint, their marriage had ended when she wrapped him in a curtain and buried him under a sycamore.

“You can get the weapon if it makes you feel safer,” the Huntsman said. His voice was deep and halting, as if he were not used to speaking. “Would it do me any good?” she said. The Huntsman shook his head. “Then I’ll leave it where it is. If you want some coffee, it should be hot pretty soon.”

“I seen a goblin once, Albert,” Caleb said. “They’s all over Kentucky.”

The Huntsman knelt beside Benito and frowned. “I am dead,” Benito said. “Not yet,” Jacob said. “I can finish you, if you like. It would be a mercy.” “No,” Benito said. “Thank you, but I believe I will lie here and look at the sky. It’s very clear and bright today.” But Jacob had already risen and stepped out of Benito’s line of sight. Benito tried to move his head, to see where the Huntsman had gone, but his muscles didn’t respond. He decided that was fine. He didn’t need to look at the ugly old man.