Adventure
From: QuickStop Manager Your shift has been extended.
Marcus had been working at the QuickStop for eight months. It was a small gas station at the edge of town. One pump. One cooler. One bathroom that never locked. The night shift was usually quiet. A few trucks. A few drunks. Nothing scary. But tonight was different. It started at 11:00 PM when a woman in a white car pulled up to Pump 2. She pumped exactly one gallon of gas. Then she walked inside, bought a carton of milk, paid with a $100 bill, and sat down in the corner booth. She hadn't moved since. Just sat there. Staring at the window. Not blinking. Marcus tried to talk to her. She didn't answer. He tried to call his manager. No answer. He tried to call the police. The line was dead. At 1:47 AM, the text arrived. Your shift has been extended. Do not leave. Do not unlock the doors. Marcus walked to the front door and pushed. It didn't open. He pushed harder. Nothing. The lock was broken. The door should have opened. But it didn't. It felt like something heavy was holding it shut from the outside. He looked through the glass. The parking lot was empty. No cars. No people. Just the woman's white car at Pump 2. But the pump was still running. The hose was still in her car. Gasoline was pouring onto the ground. A huge puddle was spreading toward the store. Marcus ran to the back door. Same thing. Locked. Stuck. He couldn't get out. He went back to the front. The woman in the booth hadn't moved. But her milk carton was empty. And her face was different. Her mouth was open wider now. Too wide. Like her jaw had unhinged. "You should sit down," she said. Her voice was low and wet. "They'll be here soon." "Who?" Marcus asked. "Who's coming?" She smiled. Her teeth were black. "The ones who extended your shift." Marcus grabbed his phone. No signal. He tried the landline behind the counter. Dead. He looked at the security camera monitors. Every screen showed the same thing. The front door. The parking lot. The puddle of gas growing wider and wider. Then he saw something on the last screen. Camera 7 pointed at the road. Headlights. A line of headlights. Cars were coming. Dozens of them. All moving slow. All driving toward the station. The first car pulled up. An old sedan. No driver. The door opened by itself. A man got out. He had no face. Just smooth skin where his eyes and nose and mouth should be. He walked to the front door and pressed his blank face against the glass. Then more cars arrived. More faceless people. They surrounded the building. Dozens of them. Pressing their faces against every window. Against the glass door. Their hands slapped the walls. Soft at first. Then harder. Marcus backed away. The woman in the booth stood up. Her body made cracking sounds. "They're here for the shift change," she whispered. "But you're not leaving. No one ever leaves." She walked toward him. Her feet didn't touch the ground. Marcus ran to the cooler. The big walk-in freezer in the back. He pulled the heavy door shut behind him. It was dark. Cold. His breath fogged in the air. Outside, the slapping stopped. Then the front door broke open. He heard hundreds of footsteps. Soft. Wet. Coming closer. The freezer door handle turned. Marcus held his breath. He closed his eyes. The handle stopped turning. Then a voice. Not the woman's voice. A deeper voice. A voice that sounded like gravel and old radio static. "Your shift has been extended indefinitely. The cooler is your new booth. Welcome to QuickStop. Population: you." The lights went out. And somewhere outside, the gas pump was still running.
By Esmat Zafari5 months ago in Fiction
An Unfulfilled Dream. Top Story - May 2026.
This was always my childhood dream. Before I understood what I was staring up at I wanted to be part of it. Twinkling lights created pictures in the blackness of space. They called to me, enticing my young mind to explore their domain. Like all of us, what was important to me then transformed into something completely different as I aged. The luster of the stars has dulled. What draws me now is one speck of light where a new year is being celebrated. It’s where I long to be, celebrating with those I’ve left behind and knowing it’s impossible.
By Mark Gagnon5 months ago in Fiction
The email arrived at 11:47 PM on a Tuesday.
The email arrived at 11:47 PM on a Tuesday. Subject: Job Offer – Night Security – Urgent Start Congratulations! You have been selected for the night security position at the abandoned Sun Valley Mall. Pay: $450 per night. Cash. No taxes. Start tonight. Report to the back entrance near loading dock B. The key is under the loose brick. Do not use the front doors. Only one rule: from 2:00 AM to 3:00 AM, do not look at any of the security cameras. Keep your eyes down. Do not look up. See you inside. Marcus read the email three times. He had applied for dozens of security jobs. Most never replied. But this one? Four hundred fifty dollars for one night? That was more than he made in a week at his old job. He knew it was strange. An abandoned mall. Cash only. A rule about cameras. But his rent was late. His fridge was empty. And the email said start tonight. He drove to the mall at 1:00 AM. The parking lot was dark and cracked with weeds. The building was huge and gray. Most of the windows were broken. The only light came from a single yellow bulb above loading dock B. Marcus found the loose brick. Under it was a rusted key. He opened the small door and stepped inside. The air was cold and smelled like rain and old food. His flashlight cut through the darkness. He saw empty stores, knocked-over mannequins, and a fountain with no water. The only sound was his own footsteps and a faint buzzing from somewhere above. He looked up. Security cameras. Every thirty feet. Small black domes on the ceiling. Their red lights were on. They were recording. Marcus remembered the rule: from 2:00 AM to 3:00 AM, do not look at any of the security cameras. He checked his phone. 1:52 AM. He found a broken chair near an old food court and sat down. He kept his eyes on the floor. Eight minutes passed. Then ten. The buzzing grew louder. At 2:00 AM sharp, the lights in the mall went out. Complete darkness. His flashlight flickered once and died. He heard something move. Not a rat. Not wind. Footsteps. Slow and heavy. Coming from the second floor. Then a voice. Soft. Close to his ear. "Eyes down, new guy. Good boy." Marcus froze. Someone was standing right behind him. He could feel warm breath on his neck. But he didn't turn around. He didn't look up. The footsteps moved away. Then another sound. Clicking. Like fingernails on a camera lens. He sat in the dark for one hour. The longest hour of his life. Things walked past him. Things whispered. Something wet dripped onto his shoulder. He did not move. He did not look. At 3:00 AM, the lights flickered back on. His flashlight worked again. The buzzing stopped. Marcus ran for the door. He burst into the parking lot and sucked in the cold night air. His hands were shaking. His shirt was soaked with sweat. He looked down at his shoulder. A sticky dark liquid. Not water. Not oil. And something else. A small piece of paper stuck to his shirt. On it, written in shaky handwriting: "Good job. Same time tomorrow. Don't be late. And don't ever look up." Marcus threw the paper away and drove home. He promised himself he would never go back. But the next morning, his rent was still late. His fridge was still empty. And a new email was waiting in his phone. Subject: You're Doing Great. Here's Tonight's Bonus: $600. P.S. The cameras really enjoyed watching you last night. They want you to sit closer this time. Marcus stared at the screen. Then he looked up at the corner of his own bedroom ceiling. A small black dome. A tiny red light. It was recording.
By Esmat Zafari5 months ago in Fiction
Severine and virtue
This work is number 2 of a trilogy describing Severine’s life in three stages. After the painful separation of Mike and his partner for a cause quite independent of his affair with Severine, he left France. The mother settled in the south of France, leaving her daughter in the Paris region at the mercy of the first newcomer. The adventure for Severine, in comparison to what she knew previously, was a true psychological regression. The lifestyle had disappeared with Mike. Severine, several times disillusioned by the men with whom she tried to share her daily life, lived a difficult and austere life, subsisting only through social welfare. Mike tried vainly several times to maintain the connection, destroying the barriers placed between them by the mother, who was anxious that one day he might reveal to her who she really was. After fifteen years had passed, he managed to gradually reestablish contact with Severine. During his stay in France and having heard of her mental and social distress, he wished to see her again, a feeling that Severine shared as well. During these years away from his country, Mike amassed a considerable fortune and had the idea one day to offer a chance to the one who did not have the opportunity to seize it.
By CECILE HEBELLE5 months ago in Fiction
Eroticism Love Swinging 2
After the painful separation of Mike and his partner for a cause quite independent of his affair with Severine, he left France. The mother settled in the south of France, leaving her daughter in the Paris region at the mercy of the first newcomer. The adventure for Severine, in comparison to what she knew previously, was a true psychological regression. The lifestyle had disappeared with Mike. Severine, several times disillusioned by the men with whom she tried to share her daily life, lived a difficult and austere life, subsisting only through social welfare. Mike tried vainly several times to maintain the connection, destroying the barriers placed between them by the mother, who was anxious that one day he might reveal to her who she really was. After fifteen years had passed, he managed to gradually reestablish contact with Severine. During his stay in France and having heard of her mental and social distress, he wished to see her again, a feeling that Severine shared as well. During these years away from his country, Mike amassed a considerable fortune and had the idea one day to offer a chance to the one who did not have the opportunity to seize it.
By CECILE HEBELLE5 months ago in Fiction
Beware: Do Not Enter
The hair on his arm bristled as the wind swept through the trees carrying a whisper, a warning, on the breeze * No one knows the length one goes, to ensure that no one seesthe agony that summons death, from a dead man on his knees Beware the path that leads the way to the cabin in the woodmake sure your choice is right because it will be yours for good
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden5 months ago in Fiction
The Wolves. Top Story - May 2026.
There are things worse than wolves in those woods, trust me. When you hear their howl, run. Chief Ranger Talin’s warning echoed in her memory as Liv crawled on hands and knees through the undergrowth. Ahead of her, little Tivar crawled with the eagerness of a puppy. If her parents caught her out of bed and beyond the gates...That thought annoyed her even further. Her fourteenth harvest drew near, and yet they insisted on treating her like a child still.
By Matthew J. Fromm5 months ago in Fiction
The Gods behind the Bar
The scales always sway back into balance. He slammed back a beer as the jukebox in the corner of this well-out-of-the-way hole in the wall cranked out some Judas Priest. Another dusty beer and a shot of Jack appeared without a word, as if by magic. They called him Theo in these parts, which was as good a name as any. He’d been on the run so long that it didn’t matter anymore.
By Matthew J. Fromm5 months ago in Fiction
Kanawa and the Living Forest
Kanawa silently drew the sacred horn knife as his child whimpered on his knee. Midday light beamed through the forest, a harbinger of the coming darkness. Blood trickled out of the harsh wound from the invader’s weapons upon the caribou's hindquarters, staining the undergrowth below. As the innocent blood soaked into the soil, Kanawa felt the desperate summoning begin–his last gambit to stem the tide rising on their shores.
By Matthew J. Fromm5 months ago in Fiction
