Forgive the length of this message, this is the first and possibly the last time I’ll have access to a computer so I thought I’d better write this all down while I can and get it to those who should know. I’m leaving town; I don’t know where I’m […]
Part 1 At some point, everyone asks themselves how different their life would be if they had been given a second chance. It could come in any form you like. You could have been one number off of winning the lottery. Maybe you’re one of those people who wondered what
I’ve done my best to research this phenomenon, if it even is one, to no avail; there is not a single dream journal in print or through the Internet grape vine that can ease my unsettled heart. Two packs of cigarettes and a house to myself are all I have
Has anyone else seen it, or an I the only one? Read More »
You’re probably like me, skeptical of all things unexplained. Never in my life have I believed anything that doesn’t have a logical explanation, even if it means I have to string together the most tenuous logic just to make something reasonable. This is me. Why then, do I sit here
Many years ago, when I was a kid, I had a strange dream. I was just six years old. It’s not that big deal to have strange, crazily detailed and realistic dreams at this age, when the imaginative parts of the brain are pulling around with excitement. But that one
Toby Mills winced as he felt the soft ground give way under his foot. He had stepped in a cow pie, ruining his brand new Armani loafers. “Son of a…,” he said under his breath. Toby swiped at the shoe with his new handkerchief as he swayed and bounced on
I was a mailman. I got crates of mail twice a week on Monday and Thursday, and then I had to sort them and deliver it all on Tuesday and Friday respectively. All in all it was a pretty simple job and in general I found that it helped to
The Eyes of Twenty-Two Read More »
I have reached the top. I have become the molder of other people’s destinies. What began as a reluctant career I only embarked upon to please my father has ended with me becoming so glorious. I feel like I can do anything. No, I know that I can do anything.
The Art of Persuasion Read More »
I want to set down recent events in my life, because I’m afraid that this may be my last chance. To begin with, my name is Leon Cowles. I was born in Provo, Utah, although I have lived most of my life here, in Portland, Oregon. I’ve always been a
The Beast in the Woods Read More »
This is the story of one boy’s suffering. One boy’s suffering that was with him from the beginning, that gripped at him ever tighter until he could no longer escape it. One boy’s suffering that left him robbed of himself, forever changed by the events that overwhelmed him. That boy
“Relax, son. Close one eye and keep focused on your target,” my father spoke calmly from behind me. I tried to do as he said, letting my muscles relax. One eye closed, ending the double vision I had from having the rifle’s sight so close to my gaze. “That’s good,”
Hunting With My Father Read More »
My family was doing pretty well until about a decade ago. My dad developed a bit of a problem with the ponies, a problem that certain businessmen decided needed to be solved with his death. Without his job and with him having bet his life insurance away a long time
“Hell is other people.” –Jean Paul Sartre, No Exit Things had gone terribly wrong. I wasn’t one to ever really be concerned with history—I had failed it three times in college—but even I knew things had gone terribly wrong. If anyone survived any of this, it would be up to
Amy felt as though she could float forever. The water was warm and soothing; she stretched out her arms and allowed it to embrace her fully, drifting serenely on the surface like a toned, bikini-clad starfish. Her hair, shoulder length and darker than the Halloween night which peeked in through
It was probably nothing, he thought, suppressing a shiver of fear; just next doors cat jumping down from the bureau, or the broom falling over in the kitchen. After all, everybody knows that in the dead of night, even the smallest sound pierces the veil of silence and encroaching dreams
Rory Larkin often asked himself why he had decided to visit the house on Baileigh street. Was it an attempt to show everyone that he was fearless and rational enough to discard some silly superstitions that reigned over the hearts and minds of Rasperville’s townsfolk? No, no and no. Rory
It took me a month to figure out the pattern- the pattern It was using to kill us off. At first it was Jack, who was found dead, lying face-down and submerged in his own bathtub. His mother had been the one that found him, the poor woman. Her lifeless
On one of two big hills sandwiching the sleepy little town of Maldoona, twins Sasha and Tasha, aged nine, sat gazing at the stars. In the throes of boredom, Sasha bit and chewed at her nails, tearing them off in thin strips before spitting them out through her teeth. Tasha
Pray, for devils have no reason Satan waits to curse your ways Have you seen it in his eyes in the sunset? Have you wondered if he’s laughing when he plays? – Kansas, “The Devil Game” This is a set of instructions for how to speak with the Devil. Which,
It was late October in Brookhurst Wyoming in the year 1965. I was eighteen, and I lived with my sister in an older barn house, on the edge of town. I loved that little town- especially in the fall. The deep oranges, bold yellows, and dense reds of the season
There may be strange details in this story. Not all of them will seem to add up and appear to be significant, but it’s all true. That sort of statement is common with these types of stories, but this time it is meant in absolute earnest. My grandfather was a
The Reaper in the Tree Read More »
Several months ago a friend of mine alerted me to a puzzling incident on an inner-city bus. Being a bus driver himself, he had heard many of the usual generic stories that would be exchanged around the depot – muggings, broken windows, the occasional couple attempting drunken sex; some drivers
I don’t know why, but for whatever reason, I’ve always been naturally sneaky. Without putting any effort into the endeavor, I was always scaring people, or at the very least making them jump. Sometimes even when I approached from the front, people wouldn’t notice me until I was right upon
Ever since I was a young child, that automated recording that plays when you try to call someone, but can’t, has frightened me to the core. You know, the one that goes, “We’re sorry, but the number you have reached has been disconnected.” And it’s always preceded by that sound,
