Short Story
The Apocalypse is a Process
"The apocalypse is a process." Journal of Belinda Montgomery Those words stick with me. The author had been dead for a year when I stumbled onto her mountain cabin, while scavenging homes in the Carolinas. Since I had immunity to the sickness, I could walk through the sick-camps and not even catch a sniffle. I was the one in twenty people who almost dies from it, lives, and becomes immune. I didn't fear MERS 26.
By Kat Dehring5 years ago in Fiction
The Evolved Survive, Day 223.
Dear Diary, hello again. Today is day 223 since the poison rain. I'm still at the burger joint, still alone. Thinking about hunting down a different restaurant to live in, because this woman can't live solely on burgers. Or maybe I'm just bored and need a change of scenery.
By Leah Harris5 years ago in Fiction
Always Follow Your Heart Shaped Locket
The world Ash woke into was washed out and grey. What color there was had become largely faded from use, and here was no music, and only occasional laughter. It was a world of hard work and survival. The sound of the wind could be heard blowing around the eves of the building. The sun was creeping in through the windows as the morning dawned, but the sun was muted as well. No matter how brightly it burned in the sky, it's light could never fully penetrate the eternal haze that always hung in the sky, and irritated the worker's noses and throats.
By Zakary David Reif5 years ago in Fiction
The Locket Society
The locket clinks to the floor as it falls out of her cold, dead hands. She lay there, motionless, blank stare in her eyes. She brings my body count up to 367,892. I put my gloves on to retrieve the locket and put it back in its case. I don’t want to have to keep killing innocent people like this, but I was chosen, so I must fulfill my duties.
By Isabella Gurley5 years ago in Fiction
Mixed Drinks
On Ladies nights in New Orleans, hundreds of single women flock to infamous Bourbon Street Bars in search of free drinks and hopefully meeting Mr. Right. Cheap drinks tend to bring out even cheaper men also on the prowl to find Mrs. Right Now. Copious amounts of well brand liquid courage can help turn seemingly innocent flirtations into a night of drunken sloppy sex which is a guaranteed nasty hangover covered in regret. The long walk of shame is time to reflect on what happened and vow to never partake in such festivities at least until the following week. This is exactly what Patrick is counting on. Patrick is an attractive male in his early thirties, extremely charming and loves to take advantage of drunk girls. He calls himself the Bushwolfe. He knows ever bartender in the French Quarter but never hits the same one during the same week. He prides himself on how many virgins he has banged and is a local legend amongst all the frat houses at Tulane. He's the worst kind of predator because everyone loves him and no one can seem to resist him. Until tonight.
By Katniss Forevergreen5 years ago in Fiction
