For the short story reader. Updated every Monday.

The Short Form

“Hitchcock's Tale”

Frank Stanford


When I was fourteen years old I hit a man between the eyes with a pretty, smooth stone and killed him dead as hell. He'd shot one of Brother Yvo's deer. It was plain to see that the doe was thick in the sides with fawn. There was snow on the ground and the blood of the three slain creatures. Laudato si, oa la morte secunda no farra male. I put the man across my shoulders and walked back up the hill to the monastery.