Tagged: Alan Moskowitz

Unholy Trinity: Bullies by Alan Moskowitz

Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.


Customer Service


The cashier called, “Next” and as I stepped forward the woman behind me moved ahead of me. 

“Hey! I’m next!”

The cashier, a privileged self-absorbed teenager no doubt, ignored me as she rang up the woman’s items.

“I’m talking to you missy!” No response.  

I raised my voice, “I want to see your manager! I’ll make sure you’re fired!” Still she ignored me. 

“Answer me or I’ll call the cops! I’ll sue!” Nothing.

I screamed, “You dumb kid! What are you, deaf?  Or just brain-dead?” 

The cashier called, “Next!”   The man behind me moved through me.

“Hey.  I was next!”




Jake came home late, smelling of beer, perfume and sweat – again.  Clara was waiting, carelessly cradling his treasured shotgun.  

Before he could start cursing she loudly recited in a guttural imitation, “Why can’t you look like your sister-in-law? If you lost weight you wouldn’t sweat like a pig. If I cheat on you, it’s your fault!”  

She chambered a shell – clack.  

He turned pale, “I don’t mean those things.  I love you.”

She smiled good-naturedly, “Careful with my gun, everyone knows you’re so clumsy you could blow your own stupid brains out.”  


Jake’s passing was declared accidental.


A Day in the Park


Danny tossed the Frisby and Daisy, his Chihuahua, scampered after it. 

Tim, Danny’s ninth-grade nemesis walking his Cane Corso, Thanos, called out, “You call that tiny thing a real dog?” Danny declared, “Daisy’s real, and special. She can do special things.”

  “Yeah? Can she pick you up?” Tim shoved Danny to the ground. Daisy barked angrily. “Ooh. I’m scared!” Tim mocked.

Daisy made eye contact with Thanos. Thanos shook his head, then snarled. “Your dog’s dead meat,” Tim gloated. Thanos suddenly lunged at Tim, eyes red with fury, fangs bared.

Tim ran screaming from the park

“Told you she’s special.”


Alan Moskowitz

Recently un-retired from screen and TV writing, Alan also creates short genre fiction for fun and sanity. He loves feedback.

Unholy Trinity: A Day in the Life by Alan Moskowitz

Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.


While the sweating movers manhandled her worn sofa into the waiting van, she walked through each room for the last time. Memories cascaded like feathers floating on a warm wind.

As the last of her belongings were loaded the sky darkened with pregnant rain clouds that cast shadows over her beloved garden. She smiled ruefully; a storm made a fitting coda.

She watched impassively as the thrift store van carried her old life away.  She felt satisfied; her home was ready for her ex-husband and his new bride. The can of gasoline and a match would provide a lovely homecoming.


Parked on the cliff overlooking the ocean, thoughts of her losses scalded her tortured psyche.  She had no one, nowhere to go and no strength to start over.

A few foot-pounds of pressure would end the ache.

She took hold of the steering wheel.  The familiar feel of the worn leather triggered memories that punctured her feelings of betrayal.  No matter what crap life gave her, she always felt safe in her beloved car, the only thing that was still hers.  And she was about to murder it.

She shifts into reverse and backs away from the beckoning waves below.


If she hadn’t been heartbreakingly lonely, she would have resisted the need to take the naked man stumbling out of the surf into her arms to keep him warm.

He was gone in the morning, leaving her body warm and tingling. The torturous loneliness had been lifted, if only for the night.

The comforting warmth intensified until her skin felt on fire. Breathing air scorched her lungs. She screamed in panic as luminescent scales spread across her legs, fusing them together.

Desperate, she pushed herself into the surf using her tail.  He was waiting. She would never be lonely again. 

Alan Moskowitz

Alan has worked as a successful screen and TV writer for over forty years.  Recently retired he began writing short genre fiction.  He has been published in several online venues.  New to the art of short fiction writing he welcomes feedback.  He is considering a pseudonym. He may be reached at [email protected] or his Facebook page under his name.

Unholy Trinity: Three Drabbles by Alan Moskowitz

Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.

When Time Runs Out

Doctor Sturges tried to look sympathetic through his mask when he told Jim that it was only a matter of time.  He was sorry, but Jim couldn’t visit her, due to contagion.   

Jim went into Margate’s room anyway.  He took her hand, watching in sorrow as the woman he had loved all his life struggled to breathe, her eyes filled with panic. “No worries my old girl, you won’t be alone for long.”  

He took off his mask, kissed her on the lips, breathing in her love and then sat beside her, and waited.  Her fear disappeared, and she smiled.

A Moment of Spite

Carla rushed breathless into the hospital room apologizing for being late. She chatted nervously about his grandkids to no avail.  He began his usual critique of her carelessness, her weight and her life.  The usual feelings of shame crawled over her.

Then the final barb, “Where’s your sister, she’s never late!”  Anger bloomed,  Carla retaliated, “Roby died years ago, Dad, remember?”

The old man burst into tears.  Carla sat silently satisfied as he cried away the afternoon.

The next visit he asked about Roby and Carla told him she was cooking dinner for his grandkids, and the day went well.


The doctors surrounding the body were wondering what to do next.  An attending suggested sending it to the morgue.  Dr. Sturges scoffed, “So you want to lose your license, your career and your future?  Leave it to me.”

The team left with their tablets filled with unauthorized research that could provide a cure.

While rolling the body to the crematorium Sturges thought about the old guy’s long life, his love for his family, his losses and triumphs and his final selfless act.   

If his family knew they would probably be pleased at his contribution to the fight against the virus.

Alan Moskowitz

Alan Moskowitz is a retired screen and TV writer pursuing his passion for writing short genre fiction for his pleasure and, with hope, the enjoyment of others.