For the short story reader. Updated every Monday.

The Short Form

“Jackpot (II)”

Trinie Dalton


But that night, Little Egg grabbed two newly sharpened machetes while Flo got out a pairing knife, a switchblade, and a slender sword Huevito affectionately called her Lady'chete. Stealthily, they tiptoed over to the tree's iron railing, upon which hung a sign hand-painted in cursive: Forbidden to Cut Parts of the Tree. They'd memorized the way each letter looped righteously upwards. Pausing to read, then hopping the fence, was a ritual that made Flo and Little Egg reverential but devilish, apologetic but elated.

Sphinx moths flitted about like teeny dollar bills. Stray cats squatted on every branch, hissing at each other. Little Egg and Flo arranged their knives on the ground as if hosting a yard sale. Each blade glinted in full moonlight from different angles, reminding Flo of diamonds and Huevito of power tools. Flo leaned over to kiss Huevito as he fondled the big machete.

We read it in Baby Geisha.