St. Bruvia was always a hungry town. It was an old place, older than most of its residents, with crooked wooden houses leaning toward one another beneath heavy snow and onion-domed churches whose ringing carried across the river. Whenever a family moved into a new house, they left something beneath
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Phil had excellent hearing. He could, for example, hear Mrs. Polsgrove’s cat clawing at discarded tuna cans in her recycling bin two streets away. He heard Lisa’s feet tromping off mud and rocks. He recognized the jerky swish and scrape of a carryall being emptied of evidence. Phil heard many
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Eric woke up with the dawn as he always did. The sun rose over the lake his house was on the shore of, it never failed to wake him up as the beams of light burned away the mist and warmed his bedroom. Today was going to be a good
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You have to listen to me, this isn’t right. You can’t do this. You can’t let this happen! Okay… hold on, let me try again. Something different this time, calmer. Explain what’s happening. Okay, my name is Nic. And as of right now, I am the last person on earth.
John Woodford in his first moments of returning consciousness was not aware that he was lying in his coffin. He had only a dull knowledge that he lay in utter darkness and that there was a close, heavy quality in the air he breathed. He felt very weak and had
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“In the morning, she goes to wake her friend, so she won’t be late for class. She doesn’t realize right away why her friend isn’t answering, why she’s not getting up. Then she pulls back the blanket. Her friend’s throat has been cut open so deeply that her head
