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| One of us was going to get hurt, and badly. Devastated, more likely. It would be either my colleague, Kitt Peks, or me, Ralph Artemit. If Kitt, she would be forced to accept that her life's work, her greatest achievement and the most important thing in her world and in her entire life, was wrong, all wrong, and with no doubt about it. That in itself would devastate Kitt. But to find this out after she had witnessed, time and time again, experiments that had proven her work to be fully correct, that would devastate her beyond description. Kitt could be spared this pain, at the cost of me having to face a horror that is almost unbelievable. For Kitt to retain the joy of her success, I would have to face my childhood monsters, and, as hard as it may be to believe, I mean that literally. One of us would be destroyed; one of us could be saved.
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| Author: |
Ruthven Patrick |
| Dated: |
Sunday, April 17 2005 @ 09:59 PM EDT |
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2052 times |
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Maybe they were wandering along the cobblestone streets of the most romantic city in the world, but Rachel was still feeling a little woozy from yesterday’s so-called scenic cruise. Part of her was back on the gondola being pelted with rain. The cut on her cheek was tight and sore. And then there were those shrill, unsettling voices by the Bridge of Sighs, voices she couldn’t quite place and couldn’t quite forget.
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| Author: |
doris ray |
| Dated: |
Friday, April 15 2005 @ 03:12 PM EDT |
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1581 times |
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| On an unusually warm night in late August after the haying season had ended but while the grain crops still remained unharvested in the fields, Mildred Thomas awoke from a sleep that had been brought on by sheer exhaustion only a few hours earlier. The upper floor of the two-story farmhouse retained the heat of the day like a thermos and Mildred—menopausal as she was—had tossed and turned for hours. No danger of rousing Jake her husband of thirty-five years. As usual he slept like a hibernating bear in winter. Snored like one too.
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| Author: |
Gwyn Fassnacht |
| Dated: |
Friday, April 15 2005 @ 04:25 AM EDT |
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1228 times |
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| The invitation read “Mr. Darling, you are cordially invited to participate in the Moonlight Cruise casino’s annual ‘Endless Night’ celebration. After your RSVP is received you will be informed via e-mail as to your itinerary and travel arrangements. We look forward to seeing you.” There was no return address on the beautifully engraved envelope nor any other form of identification to be found on the actual invitation itself.
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| Author: |
Robert Ziegler |
| Dated: |
Friday, April 08 2005 @ 05:00 PM EDT |
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2240 times |
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| Winter was a warden and winter was a wizard. Winter stripped away mobility, enforced confinement. It slowed motion. Because the snow was waist-deep, only beaten paths were passable: down to the frozen lake to chop free pails of water; over to the woodpile and chopping block, or to the A-frame outhouse with the red flannel glued to the frozen wood seat. The trail out to the car became occasional, used only to drag the toboggan and car battery in to thaw by the stove on the day before attempting a ferry-run into Burn’s Lake. By mid-winter even that was done, and the Chevy joined the Mercedes, an abandoned shell for future hikers to speculate upon.
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| Author: |
Robert Ziegler |
| Dated: |
Saturday, March 19 2005 @ 03:30 PM EST |
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1802 times |
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| Sans car, we boarded the ferry to Powell River, a rainy, sulphurous mill-town, home of the forestry giant, MacMillan-Bloedel. We were nearly penniless when we arrived in the office of the local school-board, where I applied for a teaching position. Because I had American credentials, I was tentatively hired as a part-time, sixth-grade teacher, as well as an evening instructor for the adult education program, providing I could produce evidence of my degrees before fall classes began. We lucked-out on a two-room cottage in the backyard of a pleasant family, and we set up house, our only possessions carried in backpacks. The owner’s wife lent us dishes; I assembled shelves and a table from planks and spikes; we acquired a mattress and stuffed chair from the good-will store, and classes began.
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| They came for me in the dark, in the night, in the quiet. I could see them, hear them, smell them. Their grotesquely long, skinny limbs, and their huge, hideous, impossibly large heads, with slits for eyes. They never came in the light. And I was to find later that they would never come in total dark, although I do not know why.
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