Horror
Mom- Out Looking For You. STAY PUT.
Mom, Didn't want to wake you up. Going out for supplies. Please stay here until I get back. Wish me luck. And don't come after me, I'll be okay on my own. I left Big Bertha in the corner and I took the prostitute gun that Uncle left us. Why he had a little garter gun in a pearl satchel, I'll never know.
By Brittni Rhone3 years ago in Fiction
Aluminum Metalized Polyethylene Terephthalate
The worst part about the Genetic Incorporations Statute (besides the headache it caused the freelance filmmaking community) was the glitter. Being one of only a small handful of approved, mandatory substance inclusions, glitter was a necessary evil. Tinsel, Beryl found, was too flammable around the rendering engine, and she couldn’t tolerate the heat generated by plushy fabrics.
By Maisie Krash3 years ago in Fiction
Mr. Odoratore
Saturday had finally arrived, erupting with the clamor and volume befitting a house of four excited boys under the age of 10. Two of the four boys had risen with the sun and donned mismatched Halloween outfits. Micah, who was seven, helped dress the youngest, Barry, who was four, and together they entered mom and dads still-dark room, revealing themselves first to their groggy mother, who upon making out their shadowy figures; bathed in the yellow light of the hallway through the cracked bedroom door, said something properly motherly and encouraging.
By Clint James3 years ago in Fiction
Porcupine District
When I was a kid I used to read these comic books written by the guy who made “The Simpsons”. The strip was called “Life in Hell”, about Los Angeles in the 80s. The main character was a talking rabbit named Binky. He had a bastard son named Bongo, born out of “jungle passion”. I always liked that phrasing. Driving around town at sunset often made me feel the same way. All those pretty lights.
By Jack Boger3 years ago in Fiction
Lifeless Impetus
Another wave of pain washes on the shore of my psyche. I can only remember pain. The endless pit in that is my stomach echoes out another trumpeting grumble. All I can remember is hunger. Is that all? Is that what I am? Pain and hunger? No, I remember, I remember something else...
By David Brandy3 years ago in Fiction
When It's Useful
It's been six years now. Or roughly six years, considering no ones making any new calendars and it’s a bit difficult to keep track of time when the worlds ended and you're trying to survive. It’s been a long six years though. Long, hard, and painful six years.
By Hannah Coltson 3 years ago in Fiction
To Hell in a Handbasket
Edguardo looked down at the open heart-shaped locket covered in dirt, blood, and grime in his hand. There was a picture of his beautiful smiling wife’s face on one side, and his daughter and newborn son on the other. It had been six months and three days since he had last seen them. That day the world went to hell-in-a-handbasket, people went crazy. Throughout the streets people were running around attacking each other. They were not necessarily fighting, more of running around biting each other. Edguardo was looking down from the 30th floor of a high-rise window cleaning platform where he had been cleaning windows. He was watching as the world turned to chaos. His first thought was how do I to my family.
By Schad Martin3 years ago in Fiction