Today, the monster steps into the world. Today, unhooded, he is seen.
He has done this for many years now, ever since he began to understand the possibilities Halloween offers him. For one night, the town is transformed, becomes a wonderland of the ghoulish and grotesque. A town made for him.
Continue reading “The Monster And The Boy by Jaime Gill “
John works in the vampire processing room. A beep sounds and an open box rolls in on a conveyor belt. He grabs a stake with his left hand. Holds his mallet with the right, and drives the stake through the vampire’s chest. Then he hits the large red button, signaling he’s ready for the next. Mallet, stake, button. It’s how he survives. Mallet, stake, button.
It’s morning now, and he’s waiting for the battered old Ford truck that picks up factory workers.
Continue reading “Mallet, Stake, Button by Ed Kratz”
“We create monsters and then we can’t control them.” –Joel Coen
Looking back through the window of memory with all its scratches, I’m driven to tell my story not to frighten but to enlighten because in the end—that cocky, inescapable end—-it’s truth, not reality, that transforms us. According to Dr. Hornsby, the men shuffling cards at my kitchen table that December at 3 in the morning were part of what he called my ongoing childhood fantasy— except that, unlike all the other fantasies, this one was the first that could be fatal.
“It’s called paracosm, Peter,” he informed me. “None of it is real.”
Continue reading “Hooked by Jack Kamm”
As one of the new faculty members at a small Midwestern college, I used to get the short straw when it came to various off-campus activities, such as ‘community outreach’. Basically, that involved a long drive out to some godforsaken rural township in the middle of nowhere to give a talk on local history to a bunch of bored Shriners. Who never asked questions, never showed any more interest than ‘that’s another event ticked off the calendar’ and who wouldn’t even stump up for dinner afterwards. Which meant hunting down a diner somewhere for a slice of pie as a reward to myself, partnered with a stay-awake coffee and refill.
Continue reading “Gentlemens’ Agreement by Steven French”
She was the craggy-faced, big-boned, broken-nose blonde on the ripe side of 50 working the night shift at the front desk at the small New Hampshire Hotel.
Continue reading “Checking In by Frederick K Foote”
Tonight, there was a man in my room. He appeared when I turned out the lights. He wasn’t there before. And then he was. Crouched at the foot of my bed. Smiling
It’s just his white eyes. His dark pupils. Always looking at me. His teeth are glowing in a big smile as he stares at me. The whites of his eyes pronouncing the void of his pupils as their darkness looks unblinkingly at me. Ready to welcome me into bed.
Continue reading “The Smiling Man at the Foot of My Bed by Noah Love”
The Exchange by Toye EskridgeBattalion after battalion, the towering pines stood rigid, guarding both sides of the blacktop the salesman barreled down in his cream Studebaker. The pointed hood knifed the stifling Southern air.
Continue reading “The Exchange by Toye Eskridge”
The thing that you need to understand is, living beings die.
It’s not welcome, yeah. It is not something to look forward to, but it does happen. And, at times, it is kinda funny.
When daddy killed the deer, I found it funny how she toppled over the ground and crumpled on its back. There is something intricately funny about tragedy, seeing something regal just fall and shatter. When, at the end, the sun dies, I think God will also sit back and have a merry little chuckle.
Continue reading “When the Sun Dies by Tathagata Banerjee”
Henry loved school; it was his favorite thing in the whole world. He was only ten years old, but he was ahead of the rest of his class. The teachers had said so themselves, he heard it in their hushed conversations, he read it on the stacks of papers they keep on their desks. It made him feel good, he felt proud.
Continue reading “Lions and Zebras by Charlize L. Love”
The sirens didn’t bother me because I was busy thinking about ending things. On the morning of my 573rd cycle, we rolled out of our threadbare bed with a rumbling belly. Breakfast went down stale and seedy. Military rations were all we’d managed to trade for lately; a half-eaten block of Nutrient-Toast mocked us on the counter.
Continue reading “The Ending of Us, Toxic Love During the Apocalypse by Karley Cisler”
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