One more step would mean certain death. Literally.

I do not mean this figuratively or as any other form of speech. I mean that if I dared to take one more step I would be a pile of meat lying in the woods for a vulture craving barbecue. If all the movies I’ve seen before now were anything to go by and if all the warnings we had been given at camp were real, and if the click I’d heard a while ago was real, then I had just stepped on a landmine.

“Let’s go, Ryan, why are you still...

Fifty Cent Roses 

Jemima was having a bad day.  

First, her two-week-old boyfriend had broken up with her. That didn't bother her as much as the fact that he stole her microwave right before he left her apartment.

She hadn't noticed until she wanted to make breakfast and there was a huge space on the counter where the microwave used to be.  

It was her fault anyways, for trusting that a homeless man loved her. More like he loved that she had a roof over her head. She hadn't seen a much...

I never thought I'd be one of those people. You know, the ones who get all choked up over a pet. But here I am, trudging through the desolate streets of New Chicago, with my zombie, Fred, limping along beside me. The sun’s setting, casting long shadows over the ruins, and I’m on my way to see the necromancer. It’s time to put Fred down.

Fred wasn’t always a zombie. When I picked him up, he had a little placard in his pants pocket that said he was from a small suburb and was something...

A Night At The Museum 

Something moved. I could have sworn that I saw something move from the periphery of my eyes but turning around to inspect it, nothing seemed to be out of place.

Nothing except the glass box that was at the entrance of the museum. That had not been there before, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if it was there.

“Bryan!” I called out to the guy in his late 40s with whom I ran night shifts. When I had first taken up this job, I had been scared to run night...

The Gas-N-Go off Route 57 wasn’t so much of a destination as a necessity. Passing through Americana fields of nothingness, the stretch between the southern border of Illinois and the forested hills of Western Tennessee offered some of the most desolate stretches of interstate in the country. Gas stations and diners were few and far between. They were the kind of spots that you only stopped at if it was necessary and made certain not to linger for longer than required. 

Yet, the remoteness...

Fatal Passion 

He unlocked the front door and walked into the apartment. He looked around the spacious living room with its elegant and tasteful design, the perfect balance of minimalism and modernism. Nicole always had great taste.

Heading straight for the kitchen to get something to eat. I'm so famished. He scanned the fridge for something good to munch on. She didn't have much in there. A carton of milk. A bunch of condiments. Store-bought pesto. He hated that she loved the store-bought...

KARA

The snow fell on Kara's face as she walked down the lonely streets. It wasn't exactly lonely- people buzzed past her, lost in their tiny bubbles, oblivious to anything else outside their sphere of existence.  

That was the way humans were. They saw other people as an extension of themselves. If she were friends with any of them now, perhaps she would matter. They would notice that her eyes were lined with snowflakes. They would notice that her skin had turned pale from cold, and her...

I could kill someone right now.

That's the thought going through my head as my sleep is interrupted for the second time this morning.

The first time, Audrey, my roommate, was preparing for a gym date with her new boyfriend and forced my eyes open to help her pick a gym wear.

And now, it seems like she's responsible, again.

I get out of bed ready to yell at her as I charge out of our room. I'm stopped in my tracks when I hear a voice that sounds all too familiar. It's the voice of a man I...

As I listened to the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall in the reception area, I actively repressed the urge to vomit. There’s just something about office spaces with their reflective linoleum tile, fluorescent lighting, and cheap Renoir knockoff paintings hanging on eggshell-painted walls that makes me physically ill.

The tapping of my shoe against the floor could surely be mistaken for nerves but in reality, it was what one fired therapist referred to as a “grounding...

Luther hated his job. 

He hated that it necessitated him sucking up to people, putting on a façade of interest or a faux liking for whatever topic interested them. Whenever people asked him what he did he told them he worked in public relations. 

He chuckled internally whenever he’d say it. It was a public relations of sorts. He never really got into details about his job though, and he realized over time that they never really cared that he didn’t. They were much too eager to talk...