Please Kill Me
A monthly column by Nick Mamatas

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F Train, Tuesday Morning
by Patricia Russo

"They're both sitting with their hands folded over beachball bellies; their arms are sausage-shaped and their fingers fat and puffy, mottled red and white. Their arms, too, are as red and white as marbled beef. Screw their arms, though. Their arms are nothing. I can't take my eyes off their feet."

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Night of the Living Thread
by Wade Albert White

"I'll never forget the night my socks came back to kill me."

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The Feet Feelers of Frigheim Nine
by Emily Chesley

"With no noses, mouths that were hardly more than slashes, and glittering eyes, it seemed astonishing to Merewether that he could tell the creature was terrified. But it was. They held its arms, and forced its hands down to touch Merewether's toes."

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So Sang the Girl Who Had No Name
by Ken Scholes

"A shrieker, safely outside the circle of protection, blasted the wall, its wail rattling the glasses that stood like a smudged, empty army along the shelf. Down the line of the bar, a shit-miner shook his head. 'Out in force tonight,' he said to no one in particular."

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