I clung to a thick rope, arms trembling as my breath rasped through my mask. The single torch high on the wall above me sputtered light at the deeper shadows of the night. A guard marched along the top of the wall, and his body briefly blocked the torchlight, but he was soon gone.
Read it now
If you were to ask me to list the Top Ways I Might Die Someday, “decapitation in a Safeway parking lot” wouldn’t have been at the top of the list.
What a difference a couple of days makes.
I looked around at the gaggle of survivors huddled in the safety of a shallow drainage
If you had watched me in the kitchen, you would have thought me ordinary, just another wife preparing dinner.
I made everything the way Bob liked it. I roasted the turkey for three hours at 325 degrees, then took it out of the oven and let it rest for fifteen minutes before carving.
The confectioner’s window is a mouthwatering sight.
A miniature garden complete with caramel truffle walls, a spun-sugar pagoda, marzipan birds, a rock-candy fountain, and a couple carved from chocolate that kiss one another within the shade of a sprawling bon-bon tree. The whole scene is shaded by an awning to keep the sweets
Maximillion’s manners were atrocious. Clarice’s tail curled as she watched drool trail from the dog’s jowls.
“Is my Maxie hungry?” their owner Katy cooed.
He shifted from paw to paw, pressing even closer to Katy’s legs as she stirred the pot on the stove. If she tripped, both she and the stew would likely crash to the floor.
Clowns. Dudley Keene dismounted from his sorrel and cursed. He unsheathed his Winchester rifle from its saddle scabbard and pumped the lever. I hate clowns.
His dirt-stained boots plodded through tall grass until he reached an island of wreckage in the sea of prairie. An abandoned carriage stood idle beside a caravan of upturned covered
Skyships weren’t made to be durable. Any wind-wise pilot knew their vessel was subject to rot and decay, gravity and age. The trick was flying smart to avoid disaster—from both inside and out.
Much like a skyship himself, Redge Galloway, lighthouse-keeper of the northmost cliffs, creaked in every decaying joint on the cusp
Manitoba, November 1955
The class goes silent. Just one word out of place, but that’s all it takes. She looks round to see they’ve all noticed. Of course they have. And most importantly, Johnson has. I don’t call him our teacher, because he doesn’t teach us anything apart from who we aren’t, and
While a shuffling inside a crypt would terrify most people, Christopher DeSalle listened to the corpse’s awakening movements with anticipation. Sparked by injustice, his longing for the resuscitated cadaver had led him to this moment.
The last rays of sunset bathed the headstones and stone façades in golden hues. It reflected off…
Must. Have. Coffee.
I slog to the counter of Out of This World Café, a hundred pounds of textbooks working to dislocate my shoulders. A briefcase-wielding businessman carries his travel mug to a table near a green-skinned group of tourists from planet Gleesa.
“Bring me all the caffeine, Liz.” I give the gorgeous barista
“Who does she think she is? The daughter of a villain, trying to be a hero?”
A punch hit me square on the cheek, smacking my head against the road. Fingers tightened around my throat, and I struggled to breathe—an all-too-familiar feeling.
Decay’s superpowers activated. I gasped as my fingertips began to shrivel
You nearly fall through the door of the ship’s command deck but manage to catch yourself against the back of the empty copilot’s chair.
“Hop in.” The pilot doesn’t look at you, dark eyes fixed on the controls.
“I-I’m an archivist.” Still, the chair is probably safer than standing when the ship’s this unsteady.
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