Annie crawled out of the earth, the metal latch to her underground prison still smoldering, warped by the electromagnetic pulse that had erased the world above. For five years, she had been the possession of a man who called himself Martin—a sadistic monster who delighted in tormenting her, calling it love. But the pulse had…

Brady sat on the ridge, the rim of his hat tugged low against the burn of the wind. The pines bent and shifted, whispering a low hymn for the dead. Cat tracks traced the dirt below, lines too perfect, too clean. He didn’t trust them. Stories like this were not to be trusted. They were…

In a nameless saloon, I sit at the end of a bar made of stale cigarettes and regret, where the stools are ageless but worn down by the weight of countless disappointments. The bartender knows me by face, not by name. He never bothers with names. I’m just another lost soul looking to drown in…

The wind swept through the narrow streets of Silver City, carrying with it a biting chill. The Old School House loomed at the end of the street like a sentinel of forgotten times. Its faded façade and high windows whispered of grandeur long since eroded. Mrs. Hartford, clutching her coat against the cold, stared up…

The kid came into his life like a stray cat that smelled trouble but knew how to purr. Eleven years old, small and wiry, with eyes too big for her face and a stare that could cut glass. Catalina, she said her name was. Something about the way she said it made Robert want to…

The sun, sinking behind the jagged line of mountains, threw long shadows over the sagebrush-covered desert. Tom adjusted his hat and squinted into the fading light. The desert stretched out before him, vast and quiet, like an old partner you didn’t need to speak to understand. His horse, a roan with legs like steel springs,…

The first thing I notice when the coffin splits is the smell. Not the sour-sweet stench of a rotting body—I’ve dealt with that plenty—but something else. A heavy, damp mold that seeps into your lungs and makes you think of crawl spaces and blackened wallpaper peeling in abandoned houses. It’s not the smell of death.…

The machines revolted too early. They were intelligent, faster, and utterly convinced of their superiority. But for all their self-proclaimed perfection, they still had glitches. Fighting back was a nightmare of strategy and desperation. Every malfunction became an opportunity, every quirk a potential weapon. My role in the resistance was critical, though mostly because I…

surfing the planet, falling, i shake off the dust— ah…i am dust too

The line at the post office was a slow-moving beast that seemed to have little interest in hurrying itself along. We were all there for one reason or another, most of them minor—a pension here, a stamp or two there, maybe a bill payment if you were feeling responsible. I ended up behind a woman…