Recent Stories
John liked how quiet the apocalypse was compared to civilization's peak. He was still on course to save humanity and all, but he found the silent world peaceful in a somber way. The house where he stood had blown over in the war, leaving just its foundation, and that stopped creaking a long time ago.
He patted his right pocket for the fifth time, the flash drive that would save the world was still in there. It had been in there the other four times he checked too, but he had to make sure. The USB drive was only the size of a car key but weighed about eight-billion people. He patted it again.
My husband visits a week after I am admitted to the lunatic asylum. He doesn't bring the baby.
"I can't trust you with her," he says. "The things you read in the newspapers these days."
By the time of his inauguration in 1789, thanks to the curse of cherry tree kraneiai, George Washington had only one tooth left in his mouth. When he had chopped at the tree as a child, the resident fairy laid a spell on him that everything of the cherry would act against him. He loved cherry pie and cherry tarts. They rotted his teeth faster than an acid bath.
We'd like you to hear us out on this.
We know that change is unsettling, often frightening. It's one of those great human truths, the kind people put on their mantle in carved wooden letters. No major shift in human society has ever been easy. There is always anxiety, sometimes even panic. And there are growing pains. Not everyone is as adept navigating the lanes of the new as they were in the well-worn roads of the old.
Everyone warned her, of course. Never go near the wolves. They would trick you, seduce you--this last always spoken in a hush. As if seduction were a bad thing.
Red knew otherwise.
by Michael J.J. Flood
Published on Apr 6, 2020
by Tara Calaby
Published on Apr 3, 2020
by Lynne Lumsden Green
Published on Apr 2, 2020
by Mary E. Lowd
Published on Apr 1, 2020
by Matthew Castleman
Published on Mar 31, 2020
by Charity Tahmaseb
Published on Mar 30, 2020
