Thomas Fletcher could no longer remember when exactly it was that his light burned out. For now, he blamed God. Alright, no, it wasn’t exactly God that he blamed, though the guy wasn’t entirely innocent in this whole situation—that’s all Tom was saying. The blame, Tom reasoned as he unlocked the door to his small-town bar, should really be on himself, for not being strong enough to make it out of this town, for convincing himself to stay. Continue reading “Small by Abi Grimminger”
“That could’ve gone better,” remarked Vasco, licking his hands.
“Yeah, it could have,” I agreed. “Maybe it would’ve if someone had been a better distraction.” I looked pointedly at Maria.
She shrugged. “I did what I could, Den. Wasn’t my fault that he didn’t see the colors.”
“You still could’ve tried harder,” I mumbled.
“Oh, whatever. He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked. I looked down at the body by my feet. It hadn’t been easy—the guy apparently took some self-defense classes—but he was definitely dead. I’d tried to get him from behind the recliner he was sitting in, but he’d seen me in the reflection of the T.V. or something and turned around before I could cut his throat quick the way I preferred. After that we wrestled around some and he almost got my knife, but Vasco was there and when I asked him to help me out the guy turned around to look and that’s when I got him right in the throat. It wasn’t clean, what with him being on top of me, and so I was all bloody. Vasco was too from lifting the guy off of me, only he didn’t mind so much on account of being a vampire and getting a kick out of that kind of stuff.
“Could you stop doing that?” I asked, as he continued to lick the blood off his hands. He just smiled at me with his red-stained teeth and kept on doing it. Continue reading “Denny and The Nightmares by Nora Balboa”
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Polyneikes, the radical activist taken into custody several months ago, died this morning in police custody. The activist and leader of group The Rebel Epigoni, famous for his fiery speeches and charismatic presence, was arrested for breaking into an unnamed government intelligence building outside of D.C. Building plans were found on his person and it is believed that he was planning to bomb the facility, thus adding treason to his list of charges. Details surrounding his death are unknown. Joining us now is a top advisor to President Kreon, who recently labeled Polyneikes a terrorist…” Continue reading “Antigone by Kate Gorden”
The world is made of glass. It is fragile, harsh, and filled with light. At least that was what I believed, until the day the world shook. This was the day that I fell into the darkness.
When I was little, my father tried to explain the ways of our little world of glass to me. My father said, “The world is fragile, and people in it are even more so. You need to stay in the light. Every now and again the world will shake, and you may find yourself falling. However, you need to find the strength to stand up and continue on. If you don’t, you will die in the dark.”
“What is the dark?” I asked him.
“It is a part of all of us, but do not fall victim to it. Do not let it consume you.”
I told him, “I won’t.”
I was in high school when I began to feel the darkness within me. It slowly gained strength inside of me as it bled into my thoughts. The darkness consumed me and I fell. Why is this happening? What is happening? I was slowly losing the peace that I had built in glass. I wanted to stop the destruction of the glass walls that surrounded me. All it took was once and my whole world shook. It hurt. This sweet fall into the darkness hurt. Continue reading “The Tunnel by Caitlyn Morehouse”
My name is Elena Ingstrom and I am twenty-two years old, but this story isn’t actually about me, so that’s not important. That being said, there are still a few things I should tell you about myself so that the rest of this story makes sense.
First off, I’m dead. I died on June 17th, 2015. Don’t worry about that, though, because that’s all in the past and I’m over it. The point of my telling you this is that you need to understand that I’m a bona fide ghost. I walk unseen amongst the living and move through walls and all of that nonsense you learn from horror movies. All of that unfinished business crap is true, too, but I already made peace with my mom and forgave my best friend for being a dick and everything else. Again, this story is not about me.
This story is about a seventeen-year-old brat named Jenna Marsh who got hit by a bus. Continue reading “All in Good Spirits by Nora Balboa”