Claire Casey
Bio
Stories (2/0)
Under the Ice
He heaved over the dashboard, wheezing a dry cough as his truck sputtered to life, hacking out thick ghastly fumes of exhaust, the sickening scent of gasoline and cigarettes settling over every surface inside. A camera shook on the seat next to him, threatening to fall as it once more sped along the ravaged asphalt of the town road. The town was a mismatched mess, its residents reusing smashed bits of boxes or barrels to replace missing shingles, covering cracks in their concrete foundations with tape or propping them up with phone books. Cement blocks replaced sinking broken steps. A thick coat of ash and smoke lay over everything, painting the town to match the sky. He grumbled as the houses smeared past his windows, most of them condemned or abandoned by families packed up and headed for Anchorage. Only the tough or the waiting to die stuck it out here. A thin mist drummed lightly on his windshield and dripped down the upturned collars of the people he passed, melting to mush with the dirty Spring snow. He took a sharp right and pulled into the parking lot of a bar, its roof buckled, and its neon sign blazing through the gauzy fog.
By Claire Casey3 years ago in Horror
Annie
Dana is on the Suicide Squad. The position is relatively new, their uniforms still an untarnished crimson. Odessa had no need of one until metal ate the skies and lights stained the night a permanent faded teal. They serve mostly the old and tired or the young and listless. The ones who have tugged at the rails of their elaborate playpen without success. Dana has never wailed for escape, but she knows the walls are there. She knows they are a threat and not a sanctuary, a fact that should send her screaming. But she is programmed to do otherwise. So she does not.
By Claire Casey3 years ago in Futurism