Toby’s JournalEntry 1April 5th, 1990 So, I asked my daddy to buy me this journal. He’s always been a great father, even though he isn’t the same after my mom died. He was always big on teaching me how to write, and stuff. He said words are the most important …
I called to her through the darkness and the shadow and the void and on and on, and what I got back was beyond horror. I called to my daughter, once young and free, suddenly shrouded in a blackness that extended further than sight. Things echoed back from the void. …
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Janowska/Yanivsky was an actual concentration camp in Ukraine during WWII. Its commandant Fritz Gebauer, AKA “the Choker,” and his torture methods were also real. As are the books I mention here. All else is fictional. Perhaps they [both the Aztecs and the Nazis] were mistaken altogether. Or perhaps …
“You never let me have anything or go anywhere or do what I want! I always have to follow your stupid rules! You don’t even know what it’s like to be a kid anymore. They didn’t even HAVE cell phones when you were 13!” Janie yelled, stomping up the steps …
Winter is a brutal child of mother nature. It acts like a tyrant as it lays siege all over the land, claiming multiple casualties in its wake. That’s why many animals run in fear for their lives. They will burrow underneath the earth and sleep until the cold has left, …
I inched forward on my belly, trying not to inhale any more of the musty, stagnant air than necessary. The darkness was so complete that it snuffed out the frail, yellow beam of my Dollar General flashlight just a couple of feet in front of me. Something skittered to my …
A child’s laughter bubbled in the air. A little girl was lost in play, twirling and dancing with a toy bear swinging from her grasp when she unknowingly wandered out onto the street. The whine of the breaks led in a grating shriek; it was all that she would hear …
Every grave holds a person, their life, and their legacy. It reminds you that you have only one shot at this life, and to live it to the fullest, but is this true? I have experienced something in my life that most people haven’t; it’s so bizarre that even you …
The fear has been with me for as long as I can remember. I don’t know if I was born scared, or whether the fear first came to me during my childhood. Nature or nurture? Or perhaps it’s something deeper and more difficult to comprehend. In a way, it doesn’t …
If I timed the 911 call just right, the paramedics could revive me before I kicked the bucket for good. At least, that was the hope. Any number of things could go wrong, especially when it came to asphyxiation. I didn’t want to die, per se; I just needed a …
A few years back, I worked as a nurse in the geriatric unit of the hospital in my hometown. There was one old woman there with pale blue eyes whose mind was still fantastically sharp, and her desire to socialize and make new friends set her apart from most others …
The red lights are only making the pain worse. It is an immense, earth-shattering pain, in my midsection and in my head. I try to move, but I can’t; I try to speak, but I can’t do that either. It hurts too much, and my voice obeys me no more …
I remember Alice. It was the summer of 2004 when the two of us first met. I’d just started at university. I was a dorky, somewhat awkward-looking girl, too skinny, too flat-chested and with hair that was basically uncontrollable. I was neither particularly athletic or the first one to come …
In the spring of 1953, when I was nine years old I saw my brother die. I’ll remember that day for the rest of my life. The memory has never left me and it never will. Part of it is the trauma, the slow, insidious realization that he was gone, that crept into my life afterward. But there is more to it that I don’t talk about. I’ve held onto it for years, and I don’t want to hold onto it any longer.
I know they say Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year, but for me it’s Halloween. I deck the hall with cobwebs and fake spiders. It’s just such a special time. Autumn is here and the leaves are beginning to fall. It’s a time for dressing up and …
Katy took a long hit on the pipe. Her eyes rolled up and back into her head. She choked on the smoke that invaded her lungs, and an attempt at a giggle was unsuccessful. Her blue eyes watered and her almost-laugh was strangled by another coughing fit. “I’m gonna die!” …
The anniversary of Layne’s death wasn’t for another three days, but when “Cochise” came on the radio as I approached that curve, I took it as a sign. Layne’s favorite song. I pressed the gas and shifted gears as Chris Cornell began to wail. The needle on the odometer crept …
The land beyond the bridge had been in my family for generations, forty-four acres of farmland. My father was as rooted to it as the oak tree in our front yard. Although he was sympathetic to my plight, he was certainly not going to move just because his daughter’s college …
“I can’t sleep,” she whispered as she crawled into bed and spooned against my back. “Jesus, you’re cold,” I murmured. She only snuggled closer, throwing her leg over mine. I lay there for a few beats, caught between my alcohol-induced sleep and wakefulness, until I realized whatever this cold thing …
“My daddy always picked me up at the bus stop.” I was surprised by a tiny voice saying that, in the cramped corridors of the crappy apartment complex my brother used to live in. The girl was like a cornered kitten in every way. I asked her age and she …
In the spring of 1953, when I was nine years old I saw my brother die. I’ll remember that day for the rest of my life. The memory has never left me and it never will. Part of it is the trauma, the slow, insidious realization that he was gone, that crept into my life afterward. But there is more to it that I don’t talk about. I’ve held onto it for years, and I don’t want to hold onto it any longer.
Everyone is familiar with the idea of a soulmate, someone meant for you, your perfect match. The missing piece of you that exists out there, off in the world, just waiting to cross your path. The idea is touching, and viewed as a little naive by most people. After all, …
The first time I saw Bret, I was nineteen. I’d found a job working security at Dave’s Storage Unit. My duties included keeping vagrants and thieves from disturbing the 40 rental units that were laid out in five neat rows in the middle of downtown Atlanta and helping customers with …
I was a beautiful young woman once, full of love and life. My lily-white skin was soft and warm, my belly swollen with new life, and my hand held by my husband, Edward. Edward was a good man. We married young, in the spring, when the air was heavy with …
