They stood out on these streets. They looked more like kids cruising a suburban mall than the people who lived here.

Barry ducked into a store, “a bo-de-ga,” he over pronounced to Tommy and Mike, his eyes wide open for emphasis while flashing that Hollywood smile. The guys were not so enthralled with their new college roommate right now. “Here,” he passed a brown bag to Tommy.

“What is it?”

“A forty.”

“What?” (more…)

1

Steve Blum scowled in pure hate as he heard the cackle of the old woman. How he hated her. He hated her more than he hated the roaming dead. They had an excuse for what they did. They were dead and, if the scientists were to be believed, simply acting on instinct. She, however, did it because she was senile. The hag was a drain on their resources, and Steve had made this very clear many times. Not only did she take up room in the already crowded refuge but also she wasted their supply of food and water. Not to mention the time it took to look after her. As long as she was awake then someone had to be with her at all times.

He said a small prayer of thanks to whoever may be listening that it wasn’t him today. She seemed to be acting up more than usual. Making stupid noises and, no doubt, causing trouble for whoever was unlucky enough to have to keep an eye on her. (more…)

Pain. Fear.

Crying.

A flash. A Memory.

—

Janie is seven. Santa just gave her her very first kitty. Mommy and Daddy said that she would have to learn how to feed it and clean its litterbox. She knows that those are stinky and yucky because her friend Annie has three cats, but they aren’t kittens. They are all grown up cats. Janie thinks she can get Daddy to clean the box, because he always does the yucky things instead of making Mommy or her do them. (more…)

We move together in mass
Like preteen girls at a concert

held at the mall, the day before
the outbreak Now that music

with no elevator, is drowned out
by the masses, whose feet (more…)

Announcing the contest winners for the first prize period of 2010:

1st Place: THE NEW VIKINGS by Kevin Fortune

Runner up: HOURGLASS by Crystal Lynn Hilbert

So many thanks to our contributors and readers – without you this site is nothing. This prize period saw the most submissions of any so far, and we look forward to even more.

Lead them to victory.

Part 1.

I first met Neal shortly after my wife had died. I was holed-up in the attic of a boarding house in the middle of a safe zone just outside of Denver, recovering from a long illness that had beaten me down through most of the winter. I was thin as a waif, looking emaciated despite the repeated attempts of my aunt, who lived in a room below me, to try to keep some meat on my bones. I’d withered to a hundred and forty miserable pounds when spring finally came, my long fever broke, and we knew the long days and nights of maddening siege would come again. My old friend Allen, who had wintered in the room next door to my aunt, had told me stories of this crazy saint who drove the open roads through swarms of the dead. (more…)

The old movies had it wrong. I couldn’t watch them, because they were so stupid. I can’t believe I came from those people, and I was almost glad that the last of the gas had gone south, the generators stopped, and movies were no longer a possibility.

In the movies, the apocalypse was like Never-Never Land. When the world goes to hell, you get to be a kid again. There aren’t any rules, there’s no one to tell you to stop that damned idiot thing that you’re doing, or ask you why you’re breaking that thing (or why you’re hurting that girl). You never have to grow up and do anything with yourself, because nothing that you do really matters anymore. You forget everything that came before, and you don’t really worry about what comes after. My ancestors had dreams of annihilation because they thought that it would be freedom. (more…)

Surrounded by a flock of hot, sweaty, chattering reporters, cameramen and secretaries moving as one for the newsroom’s air conditioned comfort, Jeff staggered out of the lift. Washing up against the reception desk, he smiled wryly at the two women working behind the length of polished mahogany, and wiped the sweat from his face.

‘Take it from me, ladies,’ he said, flicking a bead of sweat from a finger. ‘There’s no reason on Earth that would justify venturing out in that heat.’ He bantered with them for a little longer before entering for the newsroom. (more…)

‘No matter how strong I get, I can’t protect them. The realization cuts my heart like cold steel… If fate is a millstone, then we are the grist. There is nothing we can do. So I wish for strength. If I cannot protect them from the wheel, then give me a strong blade, and strength to shatter fate.’ -Ichigo Kurosaki, BLEACH vol. 23

***

“Joseph?”

Joseph paused, mid-stroke, and put the knife and whet-stone aside. He knew the sight of himself, with a knife in hand, made most people nervous. He turned in his seat at the work bench, his hand not far from the weapon, and said to Kowalski, “Yes, ‘sergeant’?” (more…)

After taking the train, to 34th street, Rick stopped at his favorite bodega for a black coffee and buttered roll. Something was going on uptown, he could hear the sirens, but two blocks and he would be in the quiet of his photography studio. Another cosmetic photo shoot to look forward to today, but it’s always better to deal with the products then those crazy models. (more…)

The scientist on TV was not nearly as scared as he should have been. He stood on the sterile, makeshift podium surrounded by cameras and armed guards, looking irritated, as if the end of the world was a minor inconvenience that happened each day between missed busses. He glared at crowd and the crowd glared back, some of them weeping, the newscasters standing like statues, microphones welded in their hands. (more…)