Odan stood motionless in the heat as a gentle dust cloud whisked around him. The sun glared from a sky that was, as always, cloudless, but never empty. He studied the large black ships hovering in the air, sanctuaries for the privileged. Everyone else remained down on Earth, trapped in a nightmare as unrelenting as the sun.

His wife, Jesmin, crouched on the concrete yard, gnawing a synthetic chew bone. Saliva glistened off the toy which squeaked each time she bit into the plastic. Her fingers tore at the plaything, and when that didn’t work she clutched it between her teeth and swiped her head from side to side. (more…)

For me, the world ended in the men’s toilet at the Hamburger Palace. But right before that, I met a beautiful girl named Keisha.

Keisha looked like ValkYra of the Damned, the main character of my graphic novel. It’s like this: a guy gets abducted by aliens in 1947. He finally escapes and in the process of coming through a black hole into our dimension, he accidentally transports the prion element that has kept him young for all these years. But in this dimension, the prion causes everyone he touches to become a zombie. Only one person is immune, ValkYra. She used to be a Sunday school teacher but now she’s a zombie killer. (more…)

Ray Wilkins finally became a human wreck within weeks of the world ending.

“My Raymond is going to end up in the gutter if he doesn’t pull his socks up.” His mother once prophetically stated, never dreaming of the circumstances in which her words would come true. At the time of her pronouncement the rest of Ray’s large family sat round the dinner table and nodded their heads respectfully in agreement. (more…)

Zombie killers,

A hearty (and overdue) congratulations to site contributor Bret Hammond, whose story RURAL DEAD was recently republished in the anthology The Living Dead 2, alongside such zombie fiction legends as Robert Kirkman, David Wellington, and Max Brooks. See the book site for more details.

More good news: in the spirit of repentance your humble editors will be posting a minimum of one new story per day for the next 7 days. So be sure to check back often – each day by noon (CST) a new tale will appear for your instruction and enjoyment.

Yours in victory,

-ed.

The chords struck went out in a sonorous wave. Matt Stokes’ fingers bled, making the coarse strings slick like entrails. With so many of his audience fondling their exposed intestines, he could easily make the connection between the ribbed Markley’s and the twenty-eight feet of digestive tubing. (more…)