Fiction

Written By Kaitlin Milliken-Flohr She used to brush my hair. Mom running my fine strands between boar bristles, ever so gently. In the morning, she twisted sections into braids. At night, she dragged her fingers through to undo her work. We rarely touched.

Written By: N.Z.Thorne PRELUDE: CHANGE ​      A nine year old girl, sat on a large tree stump in a lush, green meadow. She wore a blue sundress, and her long, wavy black hair was held back by a single snap clip that kept her bangs out of her eyes. She sat there, seemingly upset and crying.

Written By: M.D. Smith IV The GPS flickered, chirped like a dying insect, and went blank. Eric laughed and kept driving. “It’ll come back. It always does.” Shirley didn’t laugh. Southern Mississippi had thinned into something older and heavier.

Written by: Norman Goodman “I’m giving away a Yamaha VMAX. This is not a joke. My younger brother Marko died on it just a week ago. Nothing in life would make me happier than for this infernal machine to carry yet another careless soul to death.”

Written by: Graham Smith | It was a crime scene — an especially bad one by St. Mary’s standards. The quiet village, nestled in picturesque cottage country, saw no more than thirty deaths per year.

Written by: Saint Nick | I wish to speak with the dead. I long to hold conversations with rotting loved ones. Long to be face to face with their corpses, listening carefully while they speak the indecipherable words of a cadaverous language, a language which is carefully composed of corpse logic.