Marcus awoke at the sound of the alarm. Waking quickly he hit the stop button and removed the batteries. Lying back down he checked his watch.10.40. He looked over at his wind-up alarm clock and saw the time showed 8.24. Damm. How drunk had he been last night? Drunk enough to forgot to wind his alarm clock but not so drunk that he had put batteries in his digital clock. Still, he had twenty minutes to spare. (more…)

He glanced at his four year old daughter and saw that she was looking at the mushrooms growing beside the deer trail.

“Don’t eat those mushrooms, they are poisonous and you will die. Do you understand?”

“Yes Daddy “, she said quickly. (more…)

It’s too damn hot, Mya Velázquez thought. She stood outside the house, wishing for a breeze to cool her down. She looked up at the black sky, searching for a lone star, but all she found was darkness stretched to the furthest limits.

Mya couldn’t stand being on night watch. (more…)

I used to be a metrosexual, one of those men who took too much pride in their appearance. I used moisturiser to prevent wrinkles, aftershave balm; I had back, crack and sacks, and a cupboard full of expensive treatments to stave of my fledgling wrinkles at the grand old age of twenty nine. I used to have a bathroom cabinet filled will colognes and aftershaves from all the top designers, and a regular appointment at the salon. That was before. (more…)

Three riders cross an empty field, staying in the open, far from any possible Stemmers lurking in the shadows under trees. They stop near a cell tower at the top of a hill. Kate produces a sawed-off shotgun from her saddlebag; something has gone horribly wrong. (more…)

This is my 3rd day in the bathroom. It is also my last. I hold no delusions that anyone will ever read this, or that it has some vital scientific knowledge that must be preserved, I mostly just want to make myself believe that I might have left something to the world. If you are reading these hand towels you took from a chubby, balding zombie then just please remember the name Matthew Nicolas Edgewood, and if you ever see a Bailey Lynn McDonald tell her that I loved her more than anything. This is a brief rundown of my current situation and the last three days. Please forgive the grammar, spelling, and horribly dark sense of humor. I wish I had something really important sounding to say, but I keep coming back to “If I had known hell was a bathroom, I would have brought more reading material.” (more…)

Translation of “Lilies for Donald” by Nina Khmielnitzky, trad. a. / C. Tr.
Traductrice agréée, anglais-français
Certified translator, English-French

1

La soupe au poulet bouillonnait doucement pendant que je chargeais mon revolver .45, assise à la table de la cuisine. Le soleil se couchait maintenant plus tard, et le vent laissait présager un printemps chaud cette année. Je vérifiai les fenêtres avant de fermer les volets à l’aide de barres en fonte. (more…)

She didn’t know how long she had been there in the dark, but she knew it was long enough that her full bladder would no longer hold again. Whimpering, she crawled on her hands and knees, feeling out in front of her, until she found another corner of the basement to pee, and then pulled her panties back up and found her way back to her own little corner the same way..crouching and feeling her way. She could hear the other girl whimpering in yet another corner, and remembered how wild her eyes had looked when she was thrown, tumbling, down the stairs. (more…)

Tanner awoke with a start. Light was streaming through his open window and he thought the neighbor’s garbage can was rolling down the driveway and into the street.

“No, God please no,” a man’s voice screamed. “Please somebody help me!” (more…)

A bicycle stands against the wall of the antique store, whose windows have long been dark, the soap-written deals yellowed with long decay. The hand holding a digital voice recorder trembles despite the warmth of the day. The smell of blood fills the air, the crimson brightness splashed against the dull surface of the sidewalk in Rorschach blots. A thumb hovers above the play button, finally engaging the playback. (more…)

Walter is running for his life. Down a dead, empty street, he runs, pausing momentarily to throw a few shots towards the group following him. Two of them fall. Another, only hit in the shoulder, staggers on, completely unaware. They do not feel pain, only hunger. An insatiable, never-ending hunger. (more…)