When I was in college, I developed a bad habit. No, not alcohol or drugs, something far tamer than those. I developed a habit of sleeping in class. You see, it seemed as though every class I had fell right after a meal: breakfast, then comp sci, lunch, then general […]
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It’s that time of the year again. I know how I’m going to be spending Halloween. Same way I have for the past two years, slowly nursing a beer in the bar. Watching the glass sweat on that smooth wooden counter, staring at it till it goes warm in my
One Last Trick-or-Treat Read More »
The message has been smuggled via a plaintext file saved to a MicroSD that I pray survives its trip to the surface. If the journalist or civilian receiving this can read this message, I am posting covertly from a deep marine lab that officially does not exist. Its codename, as
Spearhead Unlit Frontier Read More »
My father died from pulmonary hypertension when I was only four years old. I still remember the night he had the heart-attack, watching from the third-floor window of my great-grandmother’s bedroom as he was wheeled on a stretcher across the driveway. Hell, I still remember the bare and twisted trees
The last survivors gathered at the town center, all of us desperate for our daily ration. Dark skies loomed above, obscured by bizarre clouds, hiding us from daylight. Ironically, our town had once been nick-named the “Sunshine City,” a faint memory of better times. On that particular day, it had
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The video call connected and my boyfriend smiled. “First, I love you and I miss you and I can’t wait until you get home.” “I love you, too, and I can’t wait either!” I peered at the computer screen. “Where are you? “I’m in the attic,” Brody replied. “When I
For as long as I can remember, there has been a man in my bedroom window. It seems strange to say, I know, but it is true. From the earliest, fuzziest memories I have all the way up to now, he’s been there. Looking at me. In my first memories
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It is a quiet evening, the kind that fails to hide the occasional creaks and moans of aging floorboards as they shift in the indecisive Autumn temperatures. She drifts just beyond the realm of reality. Her eyelids twitch left and right in short-lived spasms, interrupting the solitary stillness of her
The following is a brief report outlining the tragic events that transpired in western Toronto on the evening of Tuesday, June 13th, 2017. Court proceedings are quietly underway and much of the public view has been diverted in a direction I feel doesn’t properly represent what truly took place that
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As the sun sank low in the evening sky, the residents of Bellmawr were still reeling from the horrors of the night before. Nearly fifteen hours after all hell broke loose at the intersection of Benigno Boulevard and Creek Road, everyone was still asking the same question: who started the
I worked a shrimp boat called the Melissa on the gulf. Hot, sweaty work but all the shrimp you can eat, so there’s that. Captain Mike was my boss, a wizened old salt. Rough around the edges, but a good man and a good boss. I worked with him out
I enjoy running quite a bit. It might come off as a bit odd to say, but it really is important to me. I found my love for it back in high school, when I ended up drifting aimlessly onto the cross country track teams. Joining was less of an
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I think I’ve lost my goddamn mind. Everything was fine until I walked out of work this afternoon. Dan, my cube-mate, and I were walking out of the building talking about our plans for the weekend. We had been pulling overtime, one of our clients was being more needy than
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Breakfast today consisted of three apples, a bowl of oatmeal without milk, two slices of toast smothered in butter, and a glass of orange juice. I set them all on the food tray and lifted. When I got to the door, I set the tray on a small table beside
It Escaped, I’m So Sorry Read More »
Part 1 A man sees his son as a reflection of himself. Creating his son is a way to validate what kind of man the father is and what he has passed down. It is a father’s hope that his son will become not just a man but a noble,
Cryptozoology has always been a minor interest of mine. I say minor because it was something I’d only enjoyed casually: a few internet articles here and there, scrolling through a couple of pages on a Tumblr blog dedicated to it, maybe watching one of those Bigfoot documentaries. You know, that
Blake Gardner awoke to an oppressive, physical darkness. It embraced him. As the cold shadows flowed around him, he felt himself falling; slowly but surely. He tried to reach out, to flail and to grasp, but only pain greeted him. Something bit into his wrists like fiery needles. His hands
I hate scarecrows. I have ever since I was little. I found something about the dolls stuffed with straw unsettling. I remember my parents tried to help me get over this fear by telling me things like, “They’re not scary, they only want to be friends” or some other lame
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There’s an image that I keep pushed away in the back of my mind. Occasionally, it makes its way out and I can see that horrid face once more. My limbs go numb and I can feel my throat begin to tighten as every grotesque detail can be seen in
I hate the water. Always have, always will. Oh, sure, I’ve swum in pools and jumped off diving boards like any other person, but I have never once allowed my feet to leave the ground at a beach or lake. Something about not having solid ground to stand on freaks
I’ve got calluses on my hands from burying my brother. If we’re rescued today, I’ll have to explain that to someone. Some search-and-rescue trooper, some forest ranger, will hold my palm to the light of a chopper window and want to know how I managed to rub the heel of my hand raw. I practice, sometimes. I practice what I’ll say to people when we get back home. Dr. Harmon, the department head, will need to know how I got Geoff and Lillian killed doing what was supposed to be straightforward field research. They were both his students, hand-picked for great things, led astray by the man who wrote his dissertation on the Russian Yeti, who taught a cryptozoology class disguised as a folklore survey. I got bumped off the tenure track for that. Harmon talked over me in meetings. Like I wasn’t there.
The Whistlers: Bill’s Account Read More »
The man on the trail is dead and will need to be moved. It is a more difficult task than I would have guessed, and nearly impossible for a 5’ 4” woman with no help and no gurney. I tried to drag him toward camp right after I found him this morning, but only succeeded in pivoting him and twisting his legs around each other horribly. Bodies look so wrong once they stop feeling pain. I never thought I would have so much experience with death, but I haven’t cried over the loss of someone since the lighthouse. This man shit his pants before he died, and moving him made the smell worse. It will bring the animals in. Still no sign of Ira or Bill.
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Mark sighed and looked out at the night sky. He was standing on the roof of his apartment building, four stories up. Sometimes Mark just liked to stay up here and reflect, it was quiet and peaceful. Looking down you could see the normal hustle and bustle of city life but if you looked up you could see the beautiful sky, and sometimes even a full moon or some stars.
My girlfriend, Ruby, and I had been together for about a year before the dreaded question of visiting her parents reared its head. Although she assured me that her folks were relatively laid back and easy going, that did little to settle my nerves. This was my first long term
