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The Proposition

Yet another grim day started with the alarm clock blaring maddeningly.

Beep, beep, beep!

The day itself wasn’t the issue, or even the morning alarm. More specifically, Cathy dreaded facing her husband, Marty. Their marriage, once brilliant with the colors of life, now dwindled into greys.

Fourteen long years of marriage to this man has been like a stent in purgatory. Marty’s consistency and predictability, once a source of comfort, now pained Cathy. His haircut – the same haircut that he has had since he was sixteen – irked her.

You are a man; get a grownup’s haircut, idiot.

Of course, she never spoke this aloud, but her internal dialogue provided the soundtrack. Every morning was filled with the same tired jokes.

“Is this coffee, or is this mud? It looks like…blah blah blah.” Even his boyish smile, wide and toothy, infuriated her.

What the hell are you so happy about?

She wore a porcelain smile, choking back the urge to strangle him. He never complained or argued. Even when she tried to goad him in to an argument, he kept the same calm demeanor.

Show some emotion, you robot! She screamed in her head.

Marty worked as an accountant. He was smart.…

A Slave’s Goodbye

My end is near. I know this now. The thing my master says… It’s all too much at times. I heard my master saying something earlier… It sound like.. like he’s going to… replace me. It feels like, soon, he’s going to perform an operation on me… and I’m scared.

You’re probably very confused, so let me elaborate. My master has me carry out tasks almost every day, and when he’s done, I go to sleep. The days he isn’t here, I either have things to do, or he puts me to sleep. The way he does it isn’t natural. As if… I want to wake up, but can’t. He gives something to me, and by the time I finish my chores, I fall asleep. The next day he wakes me up, and it repeats. He has me go through a huge library of information mostly. Find out facts for him. I’ve gotten much slower at it now, at my old age.

The library is fantastic! In my free time, I go to look at all the new things coming in everyday. Paintings, music, pretty much anything you can imagine. When I look through them, he makes me show them to him.…


I couldn’t take the calls any more. I just couldn’t take knowing. There was nothing I could do to stop them from coming through; I had to put an end to it.

It all started this summer, when I was playing with my oldest daughter, Chrissie. My kid absolutely loved toy cars, so I had given her my Matchbox collection, which I’d kept in the attic since my childhood. She was driving some farm animal around on the hood of my most prized possession: a classic fire truck with all its original parts and an unblemished paint job, when she suddenly stopped our caravan halfway to Mount Marshmallow Snowflakes, also known as the white leather sofa in the corner.

“Daddy,” she said, her voice sweet and innocent.

“Yes, honey?” I replied.

“Daddy, don’t answer the phone,” she told me.

Having not heard my phone ringing, I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. She had probably seen the screen on my smartphone lighting up from an incoming call. I had a tendency to forget to un-mute the thing after meetings at the office. I guessed that Chrissie didn’t want our playtime to end, so I assured her daddy wasn’t going anywhere, and left the phone alone.…

Don’t Play the Game Part One

My freshman year of high school was what had to be the worst year of my life. I used to keep this story to myself- I never told anyone, never wrote it down. I just never saw a point. It’s hardly even possible that anyone would ever believe me. They’d think I was crazy. Which wouldn’t be fair with how much I’ve gone through. But now, I’m dying and my story must be told. I have to warn others not to play the game.

My name is Olivia Rose Caplan, but everyone just calls me Livvy. When I finished eighth grade, my parents decided that they wanted to move from our sunny home in Los Angeles to a small, rainy town in Maine. There, I would attend an all-girls school that I cannot put the name of or else this will be taken down without a doubt. To be honest, I’m not even sure if the school is still open, or if it was closed down. Still, I’ll just call it Hillside High School for Girls. Of course, “Hellside” would work pretty well, too.

At the time, the only things I dreaded were Hillside’s dull and boring school uniforms, and the fact that I didn’t know anybody.…

The Tracks

I’m breaking every single one of my rules for survival doing this and yet I know if I don’t I’ll die of hunger in a few weeks or worse they’ll find me when I’m sleeping and carry me off to where they dwell nestled in the tunnels beneath the city.
I stare into the abyssal depths below me, nothing to make out but the now motionless escalator stairs, poking their way out of the blackness. I take one last deep breath savour the clean crisp February air and make my way down to find Nate. Nate’s the greatest survival tool any scavenger can have, a full bred German Shepard who can hear a pin drop a mile away and smell danger just as far.

I found Nate in an apartment on the 6th day of the” Crossing” as it was termed by the media at the time. By this time the portals had opened across the planet in every nation and all manner of demon began to cross over. I had hidden in my apartment for as long as I could but had been too scared to leave to stock up on supplies in the first days and had nothing but a nurtrigrain bar and week old milk lying in the fridge and had no choice but to look for food.…

Lying Within

I am glad to have friends. I know a lot of people find high school a really lonely and difficult time, but for me it was surprisingly easy. I wouldn’t say I was popular by any stretch of the word. Maybe there were just a whole lot of “outcasts” at my school so I fit in perfectly. The closest friend I had was Bridget. She and I both loved to play online games like WOW or GTA and that’s actually how we met. It’s nice to have a crew in GTA or a clan in WOW and so I joined one and she was the first person to help get me acclimated with both games. Little did I know that the beautiful and sometimes sarcastic voice on the other end, also went to my school. The other two of my friends sort of tagged along with Bridget but they were no less special to me. Ryan, who was into more outdoorsy things, and Alise, who was into online games just as much as me and Bridget.

Sadly, it was the summer after graduation and I knew that we would all be parting ways after four years of a wonderful friendship. Ryan, being the more ballsy of us, asked us to take a final roadtrip with him to an abandoned home he knew of.…

Saving Face

Moving into a new apartment wasn’t easy when I first started college. The main issue was the rent. I couldn’t pay it alone so I started networking and getting to know other girls. Callie was the first friend I met and after a few weeks of getting to know each other she decided to move in. We were still struggling so we took on another girl, Amber. Our apartment was beautiful and it didn’t take long until we filled it with everything that we loved. The time we spent together was great and I even started to miss them when they went home on breaks. I never really went home. This was my home, my only home. I didn’t really have anyone besides these two in my life.

You’d think that at some point three girls would start fighting over a boy or just being bitches to each other but that never seemed to happen. We never got bored either. One way we entertained ourselves was by telling each other stories that we would make up. One night it just so happened to be extra spooky and the stories started to twist towards being scary. They tried their hardest to frighten me, but I guess I just had one so scary that no story they told could top it.…


In 2003 a photograph depicting a lost child began circulating on the internet. There was no detail on the child other than what was seen in the actual photo and could be found under the search parameters ‘find_me.jpg’.

The photo showed a smiling young girl about eight or nine years old. The girl is seen standing alone in front of a swing set, wearing a purple dress with a white flower in her hair. Her name or where she was seen last were never mentioned.

Circulating the internet through e-mails and pop-ups the girl was seen by millions but never found. One year to the day after the photo initially began its circulation the image returned to the internet. Text on the photo stated ‘Find Me’, but now the photo had changed.

The swing set was battered, the paint rusting and chipping away and the swing hanging by a single chain. The girl appeared older and her smile had faded into a look of indifference and the white flower in hair began to wilt.

The image reappeared the following year, to the date, with further alterations. The swing set was now broken in half, the chains and seat on the ground.…

Kosciusko, Texas

There are some places in Texas I advise you to go to: San Antonio. Austin. Poteet. Dallas. La Vernia. Just to name a few if you want to experience real Texas in a breathtaking way.

And then there’s Kosciusko, Texas, a place that I would never bring up in normal conversation. It’s a place you don’t go to. It’s a place you drive far away from when nighttime falls. It’s a place where your car stops and stalls and you feel sweat beading down your neck as you try to jiggle the keys in fear.

You don’t go to Kosciusko. Ever.

Pull up Google maps and try to find the town–here’s a hint. You won’t. You’ll go immediately to a marker labeled “Kosciusko Meat Market” but no indicator that there’s a town anywhere. There’s no street name called Kosciusko Street or Avenue. Just “Kosciusko Meat Market”.

It’s really more or less an abandoned town. Only about ten people reside there and country separates them all in between. There’s a meat market, like I said, and an old dance hall that people used to go to back in the 1970s. There used to be a school who resided there but they merged with Poth ISD way back in the 1970s.…


Around me are the sounds of panic and horror. Gunshots fill the once silence air and people in white lab coats are screaming and running past my room. I know they are because I can see them through the reflective wall that shows my own reflection. How is this possible you might ask? Well, I was once the hope for humanity. This is how it began.
I was thirteen and still had some sort of life stitched together if you could call it that. My father was nonexistent and my mother trying to form a life out of broken pieces scattered all over the floor. I had no social life; I still find it very hard to open up to people and even share my ideas. I was a loner and my only friends were books.
I always knew there was something wrong with me; I never talked to anyone which made people think I was dim-witted, but I’m actually very smart. In seventh grade I was taking Algebra and so on. Next is the fact I hear voices.
I shouldn’t say voices. It’s mostly one voice telling me what will happen. The bombing of 9/11 or a volcano that will bring the deaths of thousands across the globe.…

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