Flash Fiction

“Chips”

It’s 4:00 pm on a Sunday, and Michael Barlowe had just sat down at his usual seating arrangement at the Smithfield Library. He’d taken out his collective study supplies from his bag, sharpened pencils, and left them pristine with a fresh notebook in their casings. Michael was utterly ordinary. His hair was combed neatly behind his ears with that wavy black sheen, almost blue, that passersby were accustomed to seeing on their way to and from the study area. The smell of fresh ink and old parchment settled still in the air. When he’d set his pens and utensils down neatly upon the table, he’d check to see if everything was exactly as it was to be. His notepad sat in front of him with pencils to the left slightly above the border’s end, a single pen to the right of the book, and above that on the table sat a small metal container of water. Michael took up the pen and began his work with a content sigh. The paper beneath his ballpoint was smooth and coordinated; he worked meticulously, the pen dancing along lines and running past borders. A constant and complete motion as ink seemingly ran after the vessel it’d come from with each looping of his word. The scratching of his page was almost melodic against the mutual silence in the room, the smell of old pages, and the occasional few steps…it was his sanctuary.

CRUNCH… With such an intrusive sound in his peace, Michael smears the ink on his page, hissing cruelly under his breath and turning to his side with a foul expression. If looks could kill, the woman who’d sat beside him would surely be dead. ‘She was a chubby thing,’ Michael had thought, allowing his eyes to trace the plump curve of her face and the rosy glow of her cheeks and nose. She had sky blue eyes and hair light like corn; she was objectively charming, the ideal daughter, sister, girlfriend; Micheal hated it. He continued to explore her with silent scorn, staring down directly at the noise source. She had a clear reddish back of chips with her paw stuffed wrist deep into it. His face twisted into disgust, groaning softly as she’d rustled her hand out of the bag and CRUNCH…CHEW… a disgusting cascade of crumbling noises, wet and grotesque in her mouth. Physically cringing, he lurches back in his seat, a visual reaction to his disgust for this girl. For most, this sound was a simple nuisance and relatively easy to tune out with enough time, though it was as loud as possible for Micheal. Staring at her now was gradually growing difficult. Her face melted before his eyes; her nose now a snout, wrinkled and crushed against her face with cheeks stretched to maximum capacity. Her slightly chubby figure spilled and blew up out of her dress with her delicate hands now calloused filthy hooves attached to her wrists. The man was gobsmacked at the scene before him, sitting back in his seat and practically sweating through his sweater. He takes his hand and brushes his fingers through his hair, dampened with worry.

Untitled

Sonia Cruz

It's been 68 days since I last saw the sun, and everytime I try to sleep I hear my stomach crying for food. My family and a few others have been taking cover in an underground subway system where we have built a community of survivors. It's been almost 5 months since the U.S involved themselves in the Great War, they ended their act of neutrality ever since the Republic bombed new york city and crashed our economy. When I look at my younger brother the color in his face is drained and I can almost see his tiny withered bones poking out from under his skin. I

never would have thought that I would be able to survive off of canned beans and bread for 2

months straight, but yesterday was our last ration of food and the community chose me and a

few other teens to go out and scavenge for food.

When I stepped outside I could finally feel the warm sun on my face, it felt magical like a warm blanket rapping me up and I could finally be alive again. However I was rudely awakened by a horrible scream from one of the others. Barely 50 feet away from us was a young boy, almost my brothers age, he must have not been able to take cover ontime before the bomb hit and had been burned alive from the explosion, tears filled our eyes as we walked by him one by one. Cars were flipped, buildings had fallen, and I could not believe that the place I once called home was completely destroyed.

As we ventured further into the city a dark cloud came up above us. Small rain drops started to fall from the sky, and as the rain started to fall it touched my arm. A sharp stabbing pain struck me. At first it was just a small amount, but as the rain kept getting worse I felt the stabbing feeling even more, like small drops of acid were piercing through my skin. Running as fast as we could, we finally found a small overhead covering from a fallen building. Here we were protected by this strange rain, and here was where we had to figure out a strategic game plan to protect ourselves from the rain, find food, and make it back home.

After much debating I volunteered to be the one who would go out in the rain to find food. Once I found food I would go back to our shelter and tell the others where it was so we could gather enough for our families. Together we found out that the rain did not penetrate through our clothes, so gathering all of our shirts together we made a huge blanket that would protect me from the rain.

I put the blanket over my body and left the others. Running faster than ever before, my heart was racing and I was holding onto my blanket as hard as I could. If I made it out alive I would be able to save my whole community and help us survive, hopefully until the war was over. Soon the rain started to clear up and the dark cloud went away. I felt relief in my body and I could finally relax for a little bit. We had been out of the subway for almost 5 hours now looking for a food source, and I was starting to get tired and restless. I was losing hope and the sun was

going to set in a few hours, if I didn’t find the food now I was going to have to go back home

empty handed and suffer another intolerable night of restless sleep from starvation.

Finally after walking another 30 minutes I stumbled across a building, not yet destroyed from the war. At the top of the building was a bright red and yellow sign that spelt out ShopRite. Tears started to fill my eyes and I screamed out in joy. Has God sent this to me? I wondered, of all buildings in this huge city ShopRite, the one store I used to dread going to was still standing, not yet destroyed. Running towards the store I hastily opened its doors.

Could this be true? Isles and isles of food stacked up. Chips, breads, vegetables, and rice, a whole store full of something I had been dreaming about for 2 months straight. Tears streamed down my face and I uncontrollably laughed as I opened one of the bags of chips, salt and vinegar. The chip bag smelt nostalgic, like summer nights, and swimming at our local pool. After I finished the whole bag I ran down the different isles gathering everything and anything I could find. Creating a huge back with the blanket we made out of our shirts I stuffed it to the top and started to head back to the shelter where the others were waiting.

The sun was starting to set and I knew I would have to get back quickly. After passing many disintegrated buildings and old shops I started to notice that everything looked the same. The same old buildings, and the same old cars. Had I been running in circles this whole time. To test my theory I left a part of my shirt on the ground. I tried going down different streets and different allies, but yet every path I took I ended up where my tarred shirt was. It was dusk now and I was starting to worry. Were the others looking for me? Were they even worried? Or did they just leave and return to the subway without me? Hatred started to fill my bones, and I felt jealousy over the others who stayed behind. This enraged me, how could I be so stupid to volenter to go find the food alone. It was dark and there was no way I would be able to find my way back now. I was all by myself in this horrible abandoned city, cold and hopeless.

Untitled

Anonymous

Dear Steven,

I don't believe that people come into the world with a singular purpose, I think with the right dedication and effort you can make your life whatever you want it to be and live however you want to live. That's the difference between us, my purpose was to be an exact replica of you, for science, but you got to choose your purpose. You’ve had everything right at your fingertips; you could've been a doctor or a lawyer, you could have helped people. I know everything about you, I know every kill you’ve made has been thought out logically, every person you’ve hunted like an animal has been carefully selected and researched. You’ve managed to go thirty whole years without getting caught, which in a strange way has to be some sort of talent. Imagine if you put that dedication elsewhere. Well, then I wouldn't be here right now writing this letter to you. While I was being designed in a lab you sat there rotting in prison untouched. Scientists never thought I would have my own thoughts, my own goals, my own being. It might sound cruel to say I'm jealous of you, not in the sense of the families that you've forever broken or the blood you've shed but the fact that you had the choice and the willpower to do it. You were born, an individual, different from everyone else and yet you decided to take that gift and completely squander it. I wish it was different and I got to live that life, but instead, day after day, I sit beneath the same four white walls that I’ve been in for the past ten years and will continue to. Unless... I change something. I’ve thought about escaping this harrowing place since that day I woke up and realized I'm more than just a study. I’ve been planning this day for what feels like forever, everyday that passes I anticipate leaving even more. My plan leads to you; in the end I would rather have a life in prison than be stuck in this lab for one more day. I’ve searched high and low for possibilities of a breach in the security; just a way I can take my first step outdoors. And then one day it happened. The security guards switch every hour except one works on the third floor and the other on the first floor. Now usually the switch is too quick for me to make my move, but today they got caught up in conversation right about halfway through on the second floor. I knew this was my opportunity. All my training and anticipation has led to this day. Right then I thanked you. You don't deserve my thanks but in that moment nothing could help me more than my strength and I guess I owe that to you Steven. I wonder how it will feel being defeated by someone who looks exactly like you. Wide gray eyes, angled nose, tousled hair but with much less evil intent. I ran, faster and faster, I could feel my heart beating in the temples of my head and with every step I felt my foot sinking into the ground as the pull to the door became greater, so did my smile. I thrusted all of my body weight into those two doors but when I looked up I saw those same ceilings I have been looking at for the last ten years. Those ugly white ceilings will haunt me forever, but there was no time to think. I felt someone behind me, my head still was pounding but no part of me wanted to give up. I tried again pushing myself into those doors and just then I heard a loud siren and felt the bright sun finally glazing my face. I am coming for you Steven, I am coming for your life, like you destroyed mine just by existing. And when it’s you inside those four white walls instead of me, why don't you write me a letter and let me know how it feels to be trapped inside a life that isn't yours.

Yours,

Steven

Untitled

Nate Scanlan

The screen crackled to life as their mission commander back in Houston began his broadcast.“ Alright guys, you know the drill. Another day scouting the dustball of a planet you’re on. Maybe we’ll get an extra shiny rock today.” He stated in a bored tone. It had been almost a year since the permanent mission to mars had started, and so far the most interesting discovery made was how difficult it was to clean sand out of a bodysuit. “Ok, today you're headed to some meteor impact craters on the edge of the Dune Sea. I would say have fun, but the chances of that happening are pretty low. Good Luck!” The screen faded to black. One of the Astronauts scoffed “Jeez, why is always such a pessimist? We’re on Mars, for pete's sake, how boring could it be?”

“Well, we’re on Mars, Peterson. he’s stuck in Houston, all he ever got were a couple flybys.” Landry responded. “Maybe if we do find something shiny, we can send it to him. He’d probably enjoy that.”

“Ah, that famous Canadian kindness. All I'm saying is if I find a shiny Mars rock, I'm pawning it when we get back to Earth. They don't pay me enough, and becoming an astronaut is expensive.”

“Wouldn't know. Free education, and all that.”

“Shut up, put on your suit and get in the rover.”

______________________________________________________________________

The six-wheeled rover sped across the dunes, bouncing up and down. A large plume of dust kicked up behind the vehicle as it pulled to a stop on the red cliffs overlooking a massive crater. The two astronauts stepped out, Landry looking a little worse for wear.

“How many times do i have to tell you,” He groaned, “Slow down! The craters are not going anywhere.”

Peterson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but the sooner we get there, the sooner we can be done. Besides, It's not like we’re going to crash.” He jumped into the air, landing on top of the rover. “Low gravity, remember?”

He stepped off of the roof of the rover and floated slowly to the ground. “Cmon, let's go see what ‘interesting geological formations’ we find this time.” he exclaimed sarcastically.

Landry huffed, but followed Peterson as he jumped into the crater, sliding down the edge to to the bottom of the basin. Both men pulled out flashlights, and began to examine the surrounding ground. Beams moved over the rocks and minerals exposed by the impact, but nothing of note was found. After searching for half an hour, the two were ready to pack up.

Landry stood up and stretched. “Alright, let's grab some samples and head back.”

Peterson nodded. “Yeah, I guess you never found the commander his shiny mars rock. Too bad too, it would be nice to have some extra cash.”

“Well, we still have a month or two left before we head home, I bet I can find one by then.”

“Yeah.”

Peterson bagged a couple rocks for analysis, while Landry cleaned up their gear. The two began to scale the side of the crater, heading back up the cliff to the rover. They had almost reached the top when something caught Landry’s eye. “Wait, do you see that?” He said, as he peered off towards the opposite side of the crater. Peterson looked over. “No, what are you-Oh! Yeah I see it.” The object in question was a large metallic looking stone, poking out of the dust. “Well there ya go,” Peterson said, “Your shiny Mars rock has appeared.” The two astronauts began making their way towards the stone, running and jumping off the side of the crater. As they approached the rock, Peterson slowed. His eyes widened and he called out, “Peterson wait!”. Peterson ignored him, making the last couple steps to the rock when suddenly the ground began to crack. “Oh sh-!”. A massive crevice opened up and swallowed both men.

The two tumbled down for 20 or so feet before landing softly on the ground of some underground cavern. “Jesus Christ!” Landry exclaimed, “This is why you have to be cautious! How in the hell are we going to get out of here?!” Peterson didn't seem to be paying attention. He was staring at some white rocks on the far side of the cave. “What are you looking at? Listen to me!” Landry yelled. “We need to get out of here!” Peterson didn’t respond. “They’re just rocks, they are ot more important than- holy crap.” In the process of moving closer to Person to yell at him more, Landry had gotten a better look at the rocks. But they weren't rocks. At closer inspection, it seemed to be a pile of bones, and there was definitely a human skull among them.

“How… how in god's name… HOW?!!” Landry expressed fearfully. Peterson still did not respond, instead moving closer to the pile. When he did finally speak, it was not any more comforting. “There's a note.” Landry looked at him wide-eyed, and practically shouted, “WHAT? How is there A NOTE? HOW IS THERE A SKELETON? WHAT IS GOING ON? What are we-``

''SHUT UP AND LET ME READ!”.

Landry stopped, mouth agape, as Peterson scanned the piece of paper. Finally he finished reading, and asked Landry, “Come here. You have to see this.” Landry approached and began to read the writing, seemingly written with a normal ballpoint pen. As he got further and further into the text, he became visibly more and more distressed. By the time he finished, he was shivering and exclaimed, “We need to leave, like, now. We-we need to show this to someone.” Peterson nodded, and the two men began to make their way towards the far wall, until a noise made them both freeze. A low rumbling permeated its way through the ground ,shaking small rocks on the ground. The noise got louder and louder, until a hole was blasted through the wall of the cave, and bright light poured out. Peterson’s eyes widened. “No-NO! This doesn't make any-” he didn't even get to finish his sentence before he seemed to disappear on the spot, his suit falling to the ground, empty. Landry watched in horror, frozen in place, before uttering one final phrase. ‘We thought it was just a myth.” A bright flash, and Landry was no more.

Untitled

Molly Vippolis

As he begins to set foot onto the escalator, he loses his balance, stumbling and propelling over the railing, falling three stories down until he sees complete darkness. It was just a dream. Nate lies in his bed, sweat in his hair, heart pounding. He glances at the clock, 3:30 AM. Flipping over onto his side, he shuts his eyes, pulls the warm covers up over his shoulder and finds himself back where he had started.

Nate stands at the top floor of the Freakland Mall, while he waits impatiently for his friend to join him for lunch. He whips out his phone from his jean pocket and begins to text Parker. With no response, Nate takes a seat on the bench a few feet away from the restaurant. His eyes wander around at an intriguingly empty mall. “It is Saturday at 1 PM, why is nobody here!” He feels the vibration of his phone on his left leg. Thirty minutes have slipped by since he texted Parker and still, no response. It must be him right?! He picks up his phone to reveal an incoming call from a telemarketer. His shaky hands almost dropped his cell phone on the ground. Nate is genuinely worried as to why his friend would not answer his text message. He picks himself off of the bench and heads over to the restaurant. The sign on the door reads, “Unfortunately we have permanently closed down our restaurant”. How could this be possible if Nate just passed by less than an hour ago, and saw many people seated inside enjoying a meal?

This is too much for him. Nate decides he needs to reset himself, so he finds his way over to the public bathroom. The idea of going into a restroom that has been occupied by thousands of people daily makes Nate want to vomit, but he is willing to do anything at the moment. He throws the door open and strides over to the sink. He feels nauseous and all out of sorts. He looks into the mirror and intrusive thoughts begin to cloud his mind.

DING. DING. DING. Nate hears the faint sound of a bell ringing. It seems as if it is on the first floor of the mall, but also like him and the noise are separated by just the door. He slips open the door and steps outside. About twenty feet directly across from him stands a man that seems about sixty or sixty five. The ringing sound is not faint anymore, it is blasting inside Nate’s ear. He questions whether he should run or if he should approach the only other person inside of the building.

As he walks over, the man starts repeating the phrase, “All we lack is time, the path you are on is like mine.” Okay. He has to be crazy. Nate gains his attention and the man stops. He asks the man his name. Parker. This is extremely alarming. How is it possible that Nate happens to be talking to an old man named Parker, while he has been waiting for his friend Parker to arrive. Nate brushes this off and continues. What were you just saying? The old man replies with a subtle comment, “I once was lively like you. Full of laughter, joy, kindness, intelligence and life.” Nate begins freaking out. Is this guy serious? What kind of nonsense is he trying to sell Nate right now?

He replies to the man saying, “Look Parker, if that even is your real name. I don’t know why you are here and I honestly don't care right now. I need you to tell me where everyone is.” His voice rises over the blaring sound. “What happened to my friend? What happened to the chatter inside these walls? What happened to the people inside of these stores? Why are we the only ones here?”

The bells finally stop and Nate and Parker are left to the sound of silence. Parker speaks again. “This is where it will end for you Nate. The nightmares will end, and you will be left in the blackness.” As Nate hears these words escape Parker’s mouth, he sensed something was happening that was way worse. He had a bad feeling in his stomach. He just wanted to go home. Without replying, Nate runs far away from Parker to the nearest escalator, wanting to escape as quickly as possible.

As Nate rushes on the escalator, his shoelace gets caught in between the crack where the stairs begin and the ground ends. His heart sinks into his chest, as he begins to fly forward, flipping over the railing and falling down three stories, until he finally arrives at complete blackness.

Untitled

Sami Goodman

My name is Lilly and I have a secret. When I ask someone a question I know what the true answer is regardless of whether the person chooses to share. Once when I was 10 years old I asked myself a question in the mirror, I asked the mirror what my favorite color was and it insisted I like soft orange. At first I was angry because my favorite color is blue… Wait, no it's green… maybe purple? What if the mirror was right? The experience scared me and I never asked the mirror any questions after that, until now.

Now I am 15 and I have a much more important question to ask myself, it is a question I have been struggling with. I think I am not a girl but I'm not a boy either. I'm running out of options. I need to ask the mirror. I was in math class when I decided what I needed to do. My teacher was droning on about geometric sequencing so I let my mind wander.

My seat is by a window that I spend most of my time looking out of, there is an alley cat that lives under the dumpster. I've named him cheese because we became friends when I gave him the cheese off my sandwich. I have been doing this every day since school started. Cheese was my first and only friend, that may sound lonely but i like it this way.

My daydream is interrupted by the bell, i get to go home now. It is 5 blocks from my school to my house, i contemplate the mirror on my way. As I walk in the door I see a brand new mirror in the hall “screw it” I whisper to myself as I approach the mirror. I look into it and see myself, mousy brown hair and electric green eyes, on my crooked nose is a sprinkling of summer freckles just beginning to fade.

I take a deep breath… “what am i?” it is the only question i can think to ask, at first nothing happens. Then after about 5 seconds the hair on the back of my neck stands up, I feel a surge of electricity flow through me. My hand reaches out to touch the mirror, almost without permission from my brain. As my shaking fingers approach the glass expecting it to be cool and solid they slip through, pulling the rest of my body into the mirror.

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Thea Garmone

Faster and faster I ran as the footsteps kept getting louder and louder until I could no longer hear my own thoughts. As the steps got closer and closer they became deafening. My heart, beating more rapidly than it ever has before. Running is getting tiresome, I can’t keep this up forever. As I begin to slow down footsteps getting louder, suddenly behind me I hear SNAP, the sound of a branch breaking as I trip and fall into the ground. The darkness creeps up on me slowly consuming me …

I wake up in a dim lit room, it feels as if it's been days, weeks even, who knows. I try to get up, I'm weak, probably because I've been asleep for so long. I decide to get up and have a look around to see where I’ve ended up. Out the door and down the hallway, at the end of which there is a window, a very eerie looking window. I walk up to it and peer outside. It appears that I am in a house in the middle of the forest in which I was trying to escape from earlier. I wonder why I ended up here, who brought me here, how I can escape. All these thoughts racing through my head but no answers…

I turn back around to see a man at the end of the hallway hiding in the shadows, he seems cowardly. I slowly inch towards him until we are face to face. As it turns out it is not a scary man, it is a boy, he seems to be my age. I ask him his name, “Oliver” he says, I tell him my name is Maude. He seems very timid. I ask him how he ended up here, his story is the same as mine. He was running away from something, someone in the forest and blacked out, then he ended up here in this house. He says he got here about a week ago but he isn’t quite sure. He also mentions that every once in a while the man who lives here comes upstairs to check on him to make sure he is still alive. I find this to be strange, why would a man capture two children and hold them hostage? What other reason could there be besides that he is a psycho…

Anyways, I decided it was time for me to go back to my room. I suggested to Oliver that he do the same and told him to meet me tomorrow by the window at noon.

One week later

A week goes by, nothing has changed since the day i got here but today something seems off. My suspicions were correct, an hour later another kid showed up. A girl, she says her name is Iris. I ask her how she got here, same story as me and Oliver. I am beginning to get worried, why are all of us being held here? Why is there a new person showing up each week? I need answers. I tell Iris to begin meeting me and Oliver by our usual spot, the window at noon, she agrees. I spent all night thinking of a plan, a way out of here before something terrible happens to us all. The next day I meet Iris and Oliver by the window, this time I have a plan. Tonight we will use our bed sheets from our rooms to create a rope ladder that can be hung from the window and used as an escape. We will also need to gather supplies, weapons, anything we can find, then tomorrow early in the morning we will meet at the spot. When we meet at 4am we will use our rope to climb out and down the window to our freedom.

The next morning at 4am

I meet Iris and Oliver at the window. It’s so creepy here early in the morning. We slowly open the window and put the rope ladder in place. One by one we begin to slowly climb down the ladder until we are all planted on the ground. After we all climbed out the window we made a run for it. Sprinting faster than ever before, I turn around and there that shadowy figure is once again. He is so fast catching up to all three of us, when suddenly BOOM, we run straight into a fence barricading us in. As the shadow man nears us we turn and face our impending doom, ready for whatever is to come. The man slows down as he approaches us, then comes up to me, touches my shoulder and says… tag you’re it.

Untitled

Talia Co-Mided

Tap, tap, tap

I look up from my papers to the coworker that sits across from me. She sits tapping her fingers repeatedly on the desk. I look back down pretending to be focused on my work, and sigh loudly. She glances up, seems to realize it was bothering me, and stops.

Squeak, squeak, squeak

I look up once again, interrupted from this monotonous work. She is now bouncing her leg, her rubber soles screech against the floor. This time I clear my throat, and she meets my gaze. I raise my eyebrows and she rolls her eyes in annoyance, but stops. I return to my work once again.

Fwhip, fwhip, fwhip

This time it takes me a while to notice the sound. It is just loud enough to penetrate my subconscious, but quiet enough to be unidentifiable. It is only after rereading a paragraph three times in a row without absorbing its meaning that I look up once more. Now she is twirling her hair, the very edge of it hitting the wall with each rotation. It is an infuriating gesture. Irritated almost to the breaking point, I loudly push back my chair and go to get water, hoping that she will take the no longer subtle hint. Thankfully, when I return she is sitting still, pinching her forehead in an attempt to make her headache go away.

Hmm, hmm, hmm

I jerk my head up. She still appears to be focused on her work, but by now I am positive she is humming simply to irk me. I sigh loudly, but she continues. I clear my throat, but she continues. I push out my chair aggressively and stand up, and finally she looks at me, still humming. I draw breath to tell her to stop, but then she checks her watch, picks up her bag and walks away. At least this day is over.

~

Tap, tap, tap

I look up from my book to the woman that sits on the bench several feet away from mine. She sits, tapping her pencil gently on her notebook. I look back down at my book, appreciating the soft, rhythmic drumming. After a while, she stops, and begins to write.

Squeak, squeak, squeak

I look up once again, briefly interrupted from this adventurous tale. She is now erasing her last line, then editing it, changing it for the better. I resume my reading, grateful for this reminder of imperfection and possibility of change. Eventually, she stills, crossing her legs.

Fwhip, fwhip, fwhip

This time it takes me a while to notice the sound. It is just loud enough to penetrate my subconscious, but quiet enough to be unidentifiable. Curious, I look up once more. Now she is flipping the pages, presumably looking back at what she has written so far. It is a charming gesture. Comforted by the sound, I return to my own page turning. When I finish my book, she is sitting still, staring off into the distance, smiling slightly at the sunset.

Hmm, hmm, hmm

I suddenly stop walking away from the bench, glancing back at the source of this sweet melody. I slowly begin to walk back, hoping to hear more, but she finally notices me, and stops. I draw breath to ask her to continue, but she checks her watch, closes her notebook, and walks away. I never want this day to end.

Melatonin

Gianna Templo

She was falling at an alarmingly fast rate, unable to see, move, or scream. Fear was constricting her breath as she continued tumbling from wherever she was, silently panicking without knowing when the impact of the ground would come-

Alison awakens with a jolt, soon realizing it was just an intense dream. She rubs her head, shifts to her left side, and is faced with a plastic jar. Confused, she picks it up and examines it. What was once a jar full of melatonin gummies is now completely empty. She sharply inhales, getting flashbacks of last night when she was snacking on the melatonin gummies while binging a K-drama on Netflix. Bad idea.

Groaning, Alison gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom but is met with a pitch-black hallway despite the early morning sun. She reaches for the light switch but her hand passes through nothing. She tries again, but can’t even feel the wall. Her heartbeat quickens. “Mom? Why is it so dark?” Alison asks with a fearful tone.

The hallway is suddenly illuminated and her mom approaches her from the other side of the now visible hallway as relief washes over her. But when she turns her head, her mom has sped up, now charging toward her. “Mom?! What are you doing!?” Alison screams as her mom grabs her and drags her down the hallway. Her mom pauses when a loud alarm suddenly goes off. Her school alarm! Another dream?? This wakes Alison up for real this time, and she scrambles out of bed and whips her head around frantically. She grabs the melatonin jar from the same spot and hurls it across the room.

After regaining her composure enough to get ready, Alison drives to school with a granola bar in her mouth, and fear settled in her eyes. If possible, her eyes widen even more when she turns into the school’s entrance. It’s completely abandoned and looks dirty and aged. Her concerned curiosity brings her to enter the building, where all of her senses are quickly overwhelmed.

Inside the building feels damp yet chilly, smells of strong mold, and is covered by loose wires, dried mud and leaves, and flickering lights which cause an unsettling hum across the building. The air around her looks green, distinguishable even in the darkness. What on earth happened?

It’s quite disturbing to see the school in such a horrible state; so much that it distracts Alison from looking where her feet are going. She trips on a loose wire and gasps as she lands in a body of water. She quickly sinks down to a deep level where it’s completely silent and empty for miles. She can discern an enormous figure from a far distance below her which makes its way closer to her. This is one of her worst fears.

Alison starts to swim upwards, but there is a force in the water that tugs her, hard, towards the creature. Her adrenaline starts to rush and her lungs start to give in, so she speeds up her kick and flails her arms even harder, but it’s no use as the force sucks her even further down into the deep waters.

She looks down to see the murky water transform into a black void of outer space. Alison is now floating in nothing, unable to see anything, with no way out of her nightmare. The silence of space makes her feel nearly insane. The nothingness is too much for her to handle. The only thing she can do at that moment is to curl herself up in the cold, empty air and cry quietly as she floats off into the distance.

Moments later, Alison appears in a graveyard, still curled up. She processes the unsettling environment around her, nothing short of an average graveyard setting- heavy fog, bare branches, and a low howl of the wind. What truly disturbs Alison is the tomb in front of her which says a name that sends a chill down her spine. Alison P. Lewis.

Her entire body is frozen in complete horror. The ground beneath her abruptly caves in and she falls into her own grave. She doesn’t stop falling for a long time. All she sees above her is the thick mist following her as if trying to catch her with their weightless vapor.

Alison falls, falls, falls down the endless hole of dirt, roots, and terror until she lands on her bed, her entire body covered in a cold sweat, her tears flooding her face and her pillow, her heart pounding. Trembling, she runs toward the door and swings it open, only to see the pitch-black hallway meet her eyes once again.

Loss

Ella Anderton

She’s been waiting there for hours. The scratchy seat in the small room has long since been abandoned, and now she lies on the floor. The fluorescent lighting stings her eyes but she keeps them open because she knows that when she closes them she might slip into sleep. Her fingers trace the flowers on her patterned dress and she clacks her small Mary-Jane enclosed feet against the floor to the song in her head. The shoes were a gift from her parents. The door opposite her leads to a long hallway. She doesn’t like that hallway. There are people dressed in long white coats and blue masks who chase her away if she gets too close which is why she chose the little room with the scratchy chair instead.

The corners of her name tag are already peeling, revealing the dirt and fuzz specked surface underneath that has long since lost its stickiness. In frustration she rips it off and throws it, watching as it flutters to the floor. “Lucy” it reads in the scribbled handwriting of the masked person who slapped it onto her chest hours before.

The doorway of the room swings open, and a masked person lumbers towards the little girl. The light from the hallway surrounds the newcomer in an eerie glow, and the little girl recoils in fear. The masked person squats next to her and reveals her face.

“Hi little one. My name is Clara. Why don’t you come with me?” Clara smiles and taks the little girl's hand. Together they walk into the long hallway. Armed with Clara by her side, the little girl is no longer afraid of this place. She knows she will be safe as long as she doesn’t let go.

Clara leads her into a tiny room. A curtain hangs in the middle of it, and a bed lies near the window. In the bed is a woman, her face tinged with sweat, and her hands clasped tightly to the man by her side. The woman’s face lights up as soon as she sees the little girl, and the smile on her face masks the pain underneath.

“Mommy!” the little girl shrieks, and dives into her mothers arms.

A small yelp of pain escapes the woman, and she glances toward her swollen stomach. The little girl doesn’t notice, as both her parents are caressing her tangled brown hair. The nurse watches this happen, a family reunited after a few hours apart, and knows she did the right thing. Clara has seen the little girl sitting in the waiting room by herself and watched as she slid off the chair and onto the floor. Clara has a soft spot for children, and it's why she became a nurse in the maternity ward.

Suddenly, a machine starts beeping madly. The mother has slumped onto her pillows, and the little girl notices. Looking up, she sees her mother’s pale slack face and the color drains from her own. Shaking her, she starts shouting for her mother and tiny tears leak from her eyes. She wraps her tiny arms around her mother and refuses to move. For the little girl, the room has begun to spin. The lights, having been too bright before, now blind her, and the chorus of beeps drown out the silence the little girl has come to accept.

“Lucy baby, you need to come with me. Please honey, come with me. Your mommy will be okay, but you need to give her some space now.” Clara begs, and Lucy is now limp. Doctors are rushing into the room, and machines are whirring, beeping, flashing. Colors and noise surround the little girl lika hurricane, and she registers the masked people fighting through the door and clawing to get to her mother.

“No! Don’t go near her! She needs space! Mommy needs space!” the little girl cries as she clings to Clara’s chest. Her little arm reaches over Clara’s shoulder and towards her barely stirring mother. Their eyes lock. Her mother’s faded.

The door closes between them.

Clara quickly deposits the little girl into the scratchy chair from before calls over her shoulder for her to stay as running back to the now doctor clogged hell. The little girl watches the door as it swings to a stop. She can no longer move. She is so tired. Her eyelids droop, and she descends into the fog between sleep and consciousness. The lights flicker, the silence pulses, her name tag still lies where it fell. The edges are curling towards the ceiling. She is reminded of what her parents promised her. A little friend. A playmate. One who she could teach her magic show to so she didn’t have to do it by herself. Someone she could make little jokes with that only they would understand. The opening of the door causes a gust of wind to blow the name tag to the little girl's feet where she stares at it lying there. A small tear splatters onto the “L” and disfigures it. Footsteps approach her and the little girl looks up, tears still sliding down her chubby cheeks.

Her father stands there with red eyes that look at her, dead and lost. Clara is leading him by the shoulder.

“I’m so very sorry for your loss,” her voice breaks and is forced to turn away and calm down. This world is so cruel.

The little girl’s father looks down at his daughter, her eyes wide in fear with tiny tears just beginning to fall. His heart breaks knowing that her future is changed forever.

“Come on Lucy” his voice cracks.

He takes her hand, hers tiny and soft in his large and worn. They leave.

Untitled

Sam Szerlip

“Watch your step, it’s starting to get a little steep down here.”

“Alright, I’m coming down.”

Thud. One of the astronauts landed heavily at the bottom of a hole going into a cave.

“The signal is getting stronger, we’re close.”

The two astronauts start walking through the small tunnel a thousand feet below the Martian surface.

“How long ago do you think the signal has been broadcasting for?”

“Must have been a couple years, at least. The strength has decreased significantly if we could only hear it from the Gale crater.” A slow rumble moves the area around them as some dirt falls from the ceiling. “We better hurry, the last thing we need is to tell the captain that we got buried in some random cave because we were bored of growing potatoes.” The two astronauts walk in silence for the next minutes listening only to their breathing over the radio.

“What do you think it is? We are on one of the first missions to Mars and no other people were sent anywhere close to this area.”

“It might be one of the rebel factions in Asia. You know they have always wanted to gain the upper hand against the Imperium. Launching a mission to Mars and setting up a base here would allow them to prospect all the resources here and slow down the Imperium from landing here.”

“But what are we going to do if we run into the rebels? All we have is our lasguns and you have a chainknife.”

“That's why we’re just going to have to be really sneaky. So please, be quiet for 5 seconds.” As soon as he stopped talking the tunnel opened up into a huge cavern. The ceiling was held up with huge reddish-brown pillars that had intricate designs all over it. On the floor were numerous skeletons of various origins.

“Woah, what is this place?”

“I don’t know, we should radio this back to base to tell them what we found.”

“Understood, I’ll do it now.” The astronaut moved away from his partner and began to relay what they found back to the main ship. “None of my signals are getting through, we must be too deep underground.”

“Ok, we just have to stay calm, we’ll quickly check this place out and then go back to the surface so we can bring some reinforcements for a real expedition.” After that both astronauts turned back to the cavern and started to walk towards the bones strewn around the area. As they approach a group of skeletons one of the astronauts says “Some of these are definitely not human. What do you think happened here?”

“I don’t know but I don’t think they died peacefully. If you look here there are a bunch of broken bones that look like they got destroyed by a kinetic gun.”

“So probably a big fight.”

“Most likely, and if there was a fight then there has to be a winner that survived all of this. So we should stay careful if we go any deeper.”

“Understood. But don’t you think it's better if we turn around now and report back to the ship?”

“Yeah but if we go back now the captain will take all the credit for this discovery and we won't get any recognition.”

“You're right, but I’m not going to stay for much longer.”

“Fine, we'll look at a few more bodies then we’ll head out.” After that the two astronauts began to slowly walk across the huge cavern examining every body they came across. The farther they got from where they came from the more and more bodies they found. Finally they reached the other side of the cavern where there was another small tunnel further down. “Hey I found something over here.”

“What is it?”

“This human skeleton has a journal in his bag. We might be able to find out what they were doing here.”

“Give it here, I’ll read it.” The astronaut hands over the journal and the other astronaut begins to read it. As he gets further through the book the more his brows furrow. At the end of the very last page his eyes go wide as he says. “Run”

How does one lose themselves

Astrid Yohay

I don’t remember how I got there that day. I just remember the squelch of fresh mud under my black oxford’s and my eyes pointed towards the floor. I fidgeted with the tie around my neck, attempting to lessen the suffocating discomfort it provided.

I picked my eyes up off the ground and looked around. My mother was to my right, and my older brother, Kyle, to my left. Mom’s eyes were glazed over, staring blankly into the distance. I glanced at Kyle, and to my surprise, tears were streaming down his face. He had always been hard faced and composed, never this unwound.

Curiosity spiked in my mind as I continued to look around. A white casket was sat a yard or two away from where we stood, the lid shut. Men in black suits and women in black dresses stood at varying distances surrounding the casket, some blotting their eyes with tissues and some just staring off into space. I recognized some of them as relatives and a couple others as old friends from school.

I turned back to my mom. “Mom?” I asked. She blinked, but just shook her head. I turned my head towards Kyle with a pang of shared pain, as it hurt to see him like this. I moved my arm to pat his back, in a way to comfort him. He merely sniffled and shook his head.

After untwining my arm, my eyes made their way back to the ground, ready to just wait out the funeral until it was over. Until I could muster the curiosity to ask questions. An officiant who stood at the head of the casket started to say some words, but I wasn’t paying attention. My mom and brother had walked forward to place flowers on the coffin, saying a few mumbled words under their breaths. I looked down at my hands, realizing I had no flowers to share. I kind of just shuffled awkwardly in place until they had come back. Mom resumed her place while Kyle went to stand on her left, and put an arm around her.

“Mom, why didn’t you give me any flowers?” I asked tentatively, but I got no response. “He knew we loved him, you know that,” Kyle started, in an attempt to comfort her through his own grief. She simply nodded and resumed her unassuming stare into nothingness. “The accident wasn’t something any of us could have predicted, and there wasn’t anything we could have done differently that would have made him stand with us here today.” Again, she simply nodded, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge his words.

I mean, by this point I was more than curious about who had died, but I refused to sound insensitive as they had probably told me and I had just forgotten.

I tuned back into what the officiant was saying, allowing his words to stream into my ears.

“We mourn the loss of the bright young man who was taken far too soon from this world. He was cherished by his family and friends, and all who got the privilege of knowing him. His mother and brother were very dear to him,” the officiant gestured towards Mom and Kyle.

“And I hope he will be cherished by all who know him after passing.” I tasted bile. The world began to sway slightly, my head pounding.

No. I did not have siblings. No. I was standing right here. No. Why did I not have flowers to rest on the casket? No.

The world around me was no longer simply swaying, but full on doing its best impression of a merry-go-round that was shut down for going too fast. The sunlight seemed to blaze through my eyes, making their way to the deepest depths of my mind, searing my brain in the process. The tie around my neck felt as if it had gotten ten times tighter, and the clothes I was wearing ten times scratchier. The faint smell of death that was not present moments before now flooded my nose, making me feel sick to my stomach.

I turned to my mom and shouted. “MOM?” No response. I turned to Kyle. “Kyle?” Tears started to stream down my face, making messy riverwells wherever there was a minor indentation on my face. He made no reaction.

I moved towards the tombstone that was resting in the ground, behind where the casket was.

Jack Johnson

2000-2020

“If I be the first of us to die, Let grief not blacken long your sky.” - Nicholas Evans

The world began to cave in. I don’t remember falling to my knees, only that they started to feel cold due to last night’s rainstorm. I looked around. No one even acknowledged my presence. Not even a look in my direction.

Then I felt a tap on my shoulder, and my heart soared. I wasn’t dead! I jumped up and spun around to see who my unknown savior from my impending doom was, and my heart dropped. Dad.

At this point, Dad had died nearly 10 years prior, due to lung cancer. But staring at him now, it seemed like he never even battled that horrid disease that ended up taking his final breath.

He smiled at me, but his eyes were sad. “Hi kid,” his voice low and gravely. “I’ve missed you.” I sprinted into his arms without a response. My heart ached with grief of the loss of my father and soared with the fact he was back with me again. It had been far too long.

“What is going on?” I questioned, pulling away from the embrace. “Am I really…” I trailed off.

“Dead?” He finished. I nodded. “Yes. You died in a car accident two weeks ago.” The weight of the situation settled uncomfortably on my chest, feeling like my heart was attempting to bench press far more than what it was capable of.

“But why am I here? Why does it seem like I’m still alive?” The amount of questions I had rolling around in my head seemed never ending.

“That is the fate of the death of the human body. Our consciousnesses are left to roam the world unattended, but we can no longer interact with it.” He replied, his voice strained. “No matter how real it feels, or how real it is, it isn’t your real. This is no longer our world, but theirs.” “Do we just watch?”

“Exactly.” His eyes filled with grief. “I’ve been watching you grow up for the past ten years. But never did I once hope that you would join me by my side so soon.” “I’ve missed you. So much.” A lump in my throat started to form as I remembered my father when I was younger, the light of my life, and then the unmistakable doom when he got sick. And his sickly face and frame when he eventually passed.

“I’ve missed you too.”