Stillfire

by Michael Downing

Otis Crowe sits on the top step of the porch, sun bright in his face, finger curled around both triggers of the shotgun resting across his knees. His joints ache, the years catching up faster now, but his eyes are still hard and focused, sharp as broken glass in a church parking lot and just as unforgiving. Down below, where the road twists around the mountain, the tires on the revenue man’s Ford kick up a cloud of dust as the car dips behind the tree line before rumbling back into view, topping the ridge. He always knew it was only a matter of time — after spending most of Prohibition running moonshine, sooner or later Hoover’s G-Men were bound to come knocking. Otis stands, racking shells as he swings the double-barrel to his waist, his smile thin and mean. The glass jars from his latest batch of whiskey aren’t going to be the only thing buried beneath the red clay dirt under the backyard still.

6S

Michael Downing is a writer originally from New Jersey, now living in a small college town in Georgia. Over the past twenty years he has written some plays, published a few books, and his short stories have been featured in various publications and anthologies (some that have even been nominated for Pushcart Prizes). He is still everything New Jersey: attitude, edginess, and Bruce Springsteen... but not Bon Jovi.