Short Story

In the utility room, he noticed on the wall pictures of skulls and what he later described as an image of “the Grim Reaper.” Then he turned into the master bedroom, where Amber’s body had been found. Most of the damage there was also from smoke and heat, suggesting that the fire had started farther down the hallway, and he headed that way, stepping over debris and ducking under insulation and wiring that hung down from the exposed ceiling.

The soft glow of the candle illuminated the wrecked walls that looked like it would collapse any moment. But it didn’t. I could still trace the layer of dried blood on it with my swollen fingers. Like I said, it’s not that weak.

"You-You-h, you want me to teach one of your 300-level courses? Is that even possible?" Rick stammered, his brows creasing even more.

Her throat pulsed while her torso lurched forward. The heat was intense, burning her stomach as it crawled up her body. She hadn’t even eaten anything yet – not since the apple slushy she slurped the night before. Her abdomen collapsed, keeling her over and she embraced for what was about the happen.

“I fell,” Madge answers through gritted teeth, clutching her calf tightly as she blinks out tears from her eyes as quickly as she can. It was just her luck that she’d fall off the wall like a complete idiot right after being told to quit. Maybe the odds really weren’t in her favor.

“There is a chance he doesn’t know,” Shay said trying to encourage me. “It would be unwise not to prepare for the other outcome though. We have to somehow figure out his other ability.”

Death’s cold embrace was awaiting, his hands fingering at her flickering heart. Why should she stay? The only happiness she had ever had in this world had been robbed of her, through the very medication that should have been distinguishing the pain.

''Aren’t Joe and Cisco going to help us?'' Asked Barry, noticing that his foster dad and best friend were still absent as the rest of the team was preparing their plan of attack back at the lab. ''I thought you guys said they were supposed to join us here.''

I press my face against the icy cold window. I watch one by one the snowflakes fall in the moonlight. I can tell it’s Christmas time even though nobody here says anything about it. It’s as if the ward tries to drag us away from any traditions a normal person would do. I think about the Christmases I spent with my kids.

The warm flow of water ran in rivulets down his body, the steam and soothing words reliving the pain that I had witnessed today: Seeing Paledon dead as a rock. The pain still yanked at my heart, making me feel like I was dying. It was the fear caving in me. I sat beside Paledon in my en suite’s spacious shower, gently sponging the dried blood from Paledon’s skin; I had wanted to try and clean myself up since I stunk to high heavens, but after everything Paledon had gone through (I still don’t know what exactly happened) I wouldn’t hear of it. The thoughts swirling in my head as I got back to the Tower were sinister and worrying.

The poet suddenly closed her eyes with pain, taking great gasps as her sunken chest rose up and down with effort. She clutched the table, attempting to regain control of her strangled breathing.

Driving back to my Grandma's had become the norm due to the lack of wi-fi at my house and minor, yet constant disagreements between my stepfather and I. Owning a gray Jetta that sparkled once it hit sunlight, had an aux cord to play music that changed as much as my mood, and worked perfectly fine filled me with gratitude every time I started up its engine. On May 11 my dismal playlist blared from the partially rolled down windows in the car as a few humble tears rolled down my cheeks. This day pressed hard on my chest knowing my biological father should have turned another year older, not stuck at a young 32. Life happens and you have to keep going; however, I could have never predicted singing "If I die young" by The Band Perry and having

“What a pair we’d make.” Lotor’s tone had always been an octave too low, a shade too suave, affecting too much for Lance to be completely sure that all his shivers stemmed from the low temperatures.

It was definitely past the dormitory’s lights out, but there I was, walking across the hallway into the dimly lit room, in the dead of twilight. Harrison and Thomas were busy with their noses buried in books when I burst in.

An endless round of blood curtling screams ring throughout the night, almost as chilling as the cool breeze of winter back home. I bite my lip, instantly getting the bitter taste of the freshly drawn blood. It’s hard to ignore them, a pang of guilt hits hard to my chest reminding myself that I am just leaving them there to die. Their last breaths being the musty air of rotting bodies, their last sights being a dark shadow of nothingness, their last thoughts- knowing nobody had enough guts to at least try and help them. I glance around to the other men, still beaten but healthy enough to live on to the next battle. Some look frightened, some as courageous as a lion, and as for myself- none of the above. I am neither just frightened nor