The Silence Of The Storm By Willow Croft Forty-three dollars and twenty-three cents. That’s how much we scored today. Enough for the punk show and for burritos after. “Told ya,” Mercedes said. “Told ya, it’s always better to spare change with a girl. ‘Me and my sister, we’re so hungry.’ Better than having to babysit Little Jimmy.” “Sure, that, and this spot Sean here suggested. Surprised that old bitch didn’t call the cops. She was glaring at us from the window,” I said. “Oh, her? Naw, Billy, she’s cool. One day, somebody was trying to steal some of her old jewelry. I tripped them as they ran out and they dropped all the jewelry. ‘Course it was an accident. I was just lacing up my boot. Brung me lemonade and cookies after that. I call her Grandma Bell.” I looked in the window. She looked kind of sad. Fuck, I didn’t want to get old. But at least I wasn’t lonely, like her. I had Mercedes. She’d talked me into hitching down to Florida where we met Sean. He was squatting in...
The Rock N' Roll Horror Zine is a DIY print lit zine that tells rock and roll themed horror, bizarro and weird fiction stories as well as featuring comics and artwork. Created and edited by Ben Fitts.