Writer, reader, game crafter, screen writer, comedian, playwright, aging hipster, and writer of fine horror.
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Shaky Leg Mary
When I was in college, I worked for a local hospital, one of the largest in the North Georgia area outside of Atlanta. I won't name drop because they probably don't want to be mentioned, but this hospital was huge. I'd worked clerical jobs in a few other hospitals, and you could have easily fit three of my previous facilities in this place. That being said, it was a mismatched monstrosity of old and new. The new Medical Promenade might have been a modern architectural marvel, but areas like the ER and the admin hallway still looked much as they had in nineteen seventy-two. It's a place at war with itself, constantly changing but also continually staying the same.
- Top Story - May 2021
The Last JoshTop Story - May 2021
I've been in a coma for the last six months. I was fortunate, they say. The semi-truck that hit my car killed my mother and my fiancee but spared me. Well, not spared, I guess. I had two broken legs, a shattered collar bone, and I was in a persistent vegetative state for six months, three weeks, and two days. I awoke on April twenty-sixth, two thousand twenty-one.
Ride the Lightning- Final Interview
Grandad was in the ICU when I arrived, and I found my parents and my grandmother sitting in the waiting room. Mom hugged me when she saw me, her tears making my shoulder soggy almost at once. They wouldn't let her see him yet, grandad having just gotten out of surgery, but the police were hoping to ask him some questions when he came to. I asked what had happened to him, and mom said the officer she'd talked to hadn't had a lot of information.
Ride the Lightning- Second Interview
The dinner was packed. Mr. Crome was waiting in a back booth when I arrived and waved me over as I came in. I had spent the last few weeks researching the prison, the same thing I had been doing for the previous year, but now it was with more of an eye towards strange occurrences. Stragview had its share of unnatural deaths and odd disappearances, but the prison seemed to be good at covering them up. I had been excited to talk with Cromes again, and his story had made me reach out to some others I had been hesitant to talk to. There was a real story here. I just had to put it together. I had wanted to speak to Cromes again that same week, but it had been almost two weeks since I had managed to get in touch with him. He sounded nervous when he spoke to me, unsure about our next meeting but sure that it had to happen.
For My Big Brother
March 3rd I always kind of hated my brother. Well, hate is a strong word. I just always hated how easy everything was for him. He’s two years older than me, but everything just comes so easily for him. In highschool, he was in ROTC, taking courses in criminal justice so he could get a leg up on his law enforcement career, and had a string of friends and girlfriends to make his highschool years amazing. He never seemed to study, always retained what he needed for tests, and finished his highschool years half a year early with a nearly perfect GPA. He didn't need to, he could have gone straight to the police academy, but he chose to join the Army for four years; saying it was his “duty to his country. He served as an MP and later as a base investigator for base related crimes. When he got out, he was practically ready to start police work already.
The call came down right after midnight. Duprey and I had just finished showers in confinement, a four-hour affair most nights that had seemed to take all night tonight. We had kicked our feet up on the desk, prepared to relax a little when the phone rang over the sounds Nickleback that Sergeant Lang was listening to. Lang put down the folder he was going over and paused the music before picking it up on the third ring.
Crying in the Night
I growled as the bawling cut across my dreams. This was my third night in the box, and I was getting tired of being woken up by the loud crying from somewhere in the Quad. The inmate spent his days in almost abject silence, no one stopping at his cell with mail or call-outs. I never saw them come out for showers, and I don't even think I'd seen them get a tray during meals. All they really did was cry at night and keep the whole block awake.