I am cursed with my very own personal psyops helicopter, a flying machine that takes me anywhere it wants to go, no matter how much I beg it to leave me be. Matte black, of course, updated constantly—the latest sensors, time travel, you name it. Highly sensitive to excruciating shame, humiliation, and social embarrassment. Fully automated, sentient, and merciless.
Continue reading “Helicopter by Marco Etheridge”
The river’s current was strong. Everyone knew that, although very few ever felt it. The ripping current. That current was what caused the body to float to the surface. It had been the first dead person I ever saw. Actually, no, that’s a lie. John’s funeral had been my first sight of a corpse. I suppose it all started with him. I was not meant to see that one,not that I was meant to see the other.
Continue reading “Downstream by Sean Cannon”
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”
It came to us in our dreams.
That’s how it passed, jumping from person to person, dream by dream. Some were lucky and woke with just a mild fever, but others weren’t so fortunate. They were never the same again following that dream, and sadly, some never woke at all.
Continue reading “The Dog in Our Dream by Chris Farrington”
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