Cherry Paws and Afghan Echoes

by: Sydney Haines It’s been six months since Sierra returned from Afghanistan. She spent most of her time patrolling the city streets, even making friends with some of the locals. There hadn’t been much activity where she was stationed her first few months; the worst, a small car bomb detonating a few blocks down from…

Click

by: Megan Finsel She smiled back at me from the photo I had just taken. I was standing alone on the street corner outside what was now my apartment. Yet here she was, in the black and white image I held. She looked very young, maybe nine or ten. She was standing with her back…

Qalupalik

by: Megan Finsel Lynn Canal, Alaska December 6, 1905 Without the light he would have been lost, wandering the frozen canal for hours. When it cut through the dense night, beckoning to him, he grabbed it with his eyes and refused to let go. He had made it this far, but as he tried to…

Wendigo

by: Amanda Grosso When I touch my belly I can feel my backbone, and I’m hungry. The signs were all there. The legends, the stories. All the warnings. They all basically said the same thing. Don’t eat. One simple rule and I broke it.   You have to understand though. I was so hungry. The kind…

The Business Man

by BlackWitch’s Cat How do you get rid of a person? My dear it is quite simple, for the right price. You see, I am a man with a peculiar line of work. I help madams like yourself to be free of the burden of their lazy men; to be released of their oppressive and…

A Really Killer Ad

By: Breanna Glover-VanRensselaer   He washed the red smears off his hands, then sat down at his computer and began to type. Things with his last roommate just hadn’t worked out. He wrote: Room for rent, $600, at 1200 Serial Lane, Salt Lake City, Utah. Includes: A furnished bedroom, with a queen-sized bed. Don’t flip…

The Ultimate Ultimatum

By Brandon Henry On an ordinary day, Bickford would have been already deep into the bowels of the Clearwell mine. He has now worked in that bloody mine for over fifteen years. Like most families in England, times were tough. Bick only makes five quids a day, barely making ends meet. The Great War has…

Stains

By Megan Finsel “It won’t come out,” she said, and I could hear panic in her voice. “Just scrub harder.” From the sound of the splashing liquid hitting the tile, I could imagine she was slapping it against the side of the tub. “What do I do if it’s permanent?” I rolled my eyes. “You…

The Ghost in the Bedroom

By Megan Finsel She was screaming again. I could hear her even though the door muffled the sound. I tried not to listen as she shrieked and hollered about muddy work boots and nonsense. I didn’t envy her husband; the poor old man took the worst of it. A slice of light fell in a…