by Shaun Bibo


“Please,” James said, hitting the cloth above his face again. “It’s too dark.”

The cloth unzipped down the middle, revealing a woman’s curious face. She pressed her slipping glasses back up her nose. The man breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you. Where am I? What happened?”

“This one’s still alive,” she said casually.

“Not according to our list,” said a man’s voice. “Dusty Jackson, deceased. To be cremated.”

James remembered his dealer asking for a favour. James panicked. “No, there’s been a mistake! I’m not Dusty!”

“You will be soon,” said the woman as she zipped the bag shut.

Shaun Bibo

Business Analyst by day, writer by night, weekend, lunch breaks, or whenever time allows. Father of two, so less time than ever, but in the best possible way. Surviving the cold Minnesota winters to embrace the magnificent summers.


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