Forin would do it this time. Master the All-Gate. And prove his father’s doubts wrong. All the other Gates were limited, only allowing travel between two specific worlds. Heck, sometimes you had to travel thousands of miles just to get to that world’s Gate. The All-Gate would change that. Forin could think of a place,
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The figure didn’t show its face. Just stared at me from the void-like eye cavities of a ghoulish white mask. “Don’t be afraid.” The mask distorted its voice, and I trembled. It stepped toward me then crouched to my level. “You’ve lost much, lad.”
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The Main Event: Me versus Sea.
A fight to the finish—probably mine. My opponent is the ocean.
Water’s a liquid? Tell the riptide that. Solid as a giant’s fist, it hauls me farther out every second. To defeat me, the riptide doesn’t drag me under. It doesn’t have to.
He was invisible.
At least, that’s how they treated him.
Roman sat in the weathered rocking chair on his front porch, a light spring breeze tossing his thinning hair. The late afternoon sun raced to hide its face from the world. He sighed.
All was right when he sat in his favorite chair.
Out on the shoreline, between the waves and the fire, Death made his home. He walked across the silver-gray sand, trailing wisps of memories as they faded slowly from his grasp.
He paused for a moment, turning his eyes to the waves. The water crashed against the rock, swelling forward one moment,
Two years ago, people would have said the old farmer was paranoid, putting electrified razor wire around the whole perimeter of his property.
Today is a different story.
The line of hunched-over shoulders shuffles toward the fence line. One by one, the men ahead of me approach the gate and speak to the warden,
Kylie burst through the door so fast that her palm stung from the impact.
The rooftop lounge was empty.
Of course it was. No one ever came up here this time of day—or at least no one was supposed to. But now, not even Tom was sleeping in his favorite Adirondack.
Tansy Cooper was her name. Some girl from down Chapel Street. A young, pretty thing with hair like sunflower petals, and now she’s face down in the best egg-and-cress sandwich in York.
The poor dear.
The high-backed chair beside me screeches on the wooden floor as Pippa takes a seat. Her face is paler than normal,
By Rae Graham The sun blazed with the intensity only a summer drought can muster, but no matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t melt Jasper’s ice. The beautiful aqua strands wove out from his palm in a glittering dance—one that drew delighted squeals from the children on the other side of the window. Jasper’s
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I found him by accident as I stumbled through the forest, cloaked in shadows.
The child was crouched in a patch of light, bare feet dusty against the packed earth. He was feeding the crows. They hopped about him, nipping at his clothing, brushing his face with their wings. He laughed.
When the meteorite hits the earth my laptop battery is at ninety-four percent charge. Three hours, four minutes.
Now I’ll never finish my novel.
Obviously, radical seclusion has its pros and cons. No Internet, TV, or people are ideal conditions to focus, write, and conclude a magnum opus novel. Unless the world ends,
I reached for my kitten Cleo instead of my phone. Social media wasn’t a happy place right now, not with everything going on.
Balancing Cleo on my shoulder, I shuffled to the kitchen. There by the door lay a carefully folded piece of paper. Probably my Star-Trek-enthusiast neighbors.
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