Most read stories

I was jolted out of sleep when my 5-year-old son, Kevin, jumped on top of me. I let out a little yelp both from the shock of the impact and from being ripped out of a deep sleep. A little disoriented, it took me a few moments to figure out what was going on. Now jumping up and down on the bed, Kevin yelled, “Fuzzy came again! Fuzzy came again!”

It was just like any other day when I received the call. I had been sketching the horizon for the past hour when my phone began ringing with with an unfamiliar number. I would have ignored it if the call hadn't been from my home town. Fast forward 24 hours later, and I'm sitting in a stark conference room and waiting for a team of doctors to arrive. I would have never imagined myself in this position. Who could? My mind was racing, and I wished that the doctor had given me a clearer explanation…

They used to tell stories about a man named Eddie Garnet. They say he was the only one to every rise from the dead since Jesus Christ himself. They never said anything about him being a savior or a messiah. In fact it was just the opposite. Eddie grew up with our parents. At first he was no different from anyone else. Like Daddy would say, “He put his pants on one leg at a time.” I never understand that saying because in my mind why would anyone do it differently.

A rose is a simple thing... Sweet... Loving... Kind... But it is also emotional love and pain.... This rose is black as the night, its thorns cut once touched... This rose is cold as December winds... The Enteral Rose, never ending pain of screams of those who held it once before... All end in tragical... For a simple touch, a simple scent of this rose will lead you with your own...

I hate Mondays. It’s a generic thing, but I just loathe having to go to work after the weekend. Anyway, I’m done with it, so I guess I can’t complain now. I recently purchased a house for a surprisingly good deal out in the woods. It’s a pretty nice place, other than sometimes the cellular mysteriously goes out for hours at a time.

“DRINK MOTHER FUCKERS, DRINK MOTHER FUCKERS, DRINK!” The noxiously artificial taste of blue raspberry slid down my throat with sickening sweetness. This was only my third drink of the evening, but I was already feeling pretty lit. “Alright you, stupid pledges now it’s time for the main event.”

You may laugh when you see a title like Night-Time-Vamps, you may just pass it over entirely, but that would be a tragedy, because you'd miss the warning about the Night-Time-Vamps. It was in Early summer me and my friends; Abby Carter, P. Skillet, and Tawanda Jones all went out to a camp site in a nearby national forest, to drink hooch and smoke pseudo legal recreational Marihuana.

"The best memories are made with friends." — Field journal, undated. 1985. — That morning began with brushing. I stepped into the hall and found Sam frozen mid-step, toothbrush in hand, eyes fixed on the bathroom. I followed his gaze. Ray stood at the sink, back to us, scrubbing his teeth in slow, mechanical strokes...up, down, up, down, as if he'd been at it for hours. Sam turned to me, brow knotted. "I just saw him outside," Sam whispered. "What?"

Its been 6 hours since I sent my message. Seen, but no reply. Something must have happened. Maybe he’s hurt? It’s not unlikely that he tripped and hit his head. His apartment is a mess after all. I push my chair out, arising  into a panicked loop as I walk a figure eight around my room. My feet kick against bottles and cans, my foot swings and an old pizza box is sent flying, launching stale crusts across the room. Maybe he’s ignoring me? No, of course not. He’s not like that.

It was a cold, uneventful evening, just like every other since the quarantine had started. I was scrolling through random VRChat worlds, bored and alone in my room. Most of the worlds were empty, just floating in digital silence, but one caught my eye. The world was called "Nyras’ Crypt"—no description, no tags, just the name. I figured it was probably some forgotten fan-made map. Curiosity got the better of me, and with a click, I joined.

As I sat on my couch watching a movie on the television, I found it difficult to concentrate. The noisy neighbors upstairs were at it again. I’m not sure exactly what they were doing, whether they were moving furniture, playing football, or tag. Who knows? All I know is that it was a considerable amount of noise and it needed to stop. My roommate mini came out of her room, frustrated, “Uggh!” she exclaimed, “They’re at it again?”

Nineteen straight days. That’s how long this storm’s been sitting on top of us. The view outside my duplex is nothing but a grey smear, I can’t even make out the other houses. Roads are flooded, power’s out. It's just canned food and cold water now. They tried having us work from home at first, but that didn’t last long. Paid leave’s not the worst outcome, I guess even torrential storm clouds have silver linings.

Have you ever wished to go back? Even if it was just for a short while? I’ve seen many collapse under the weight of reality and instead choose the comfort of rose-colored glasses. It’s strange how we accept language for what it is and rarely question its origins. Take idioms, for instance—we use them every day with carelessness, never respecting their weight or power. I hear you hurl them into the void, not realizing how close you are to unveiling a path not meant to be traversed. These phrases…

It gets dark very early this time of year this far north.

I have been imprisoned here in this hell hole for the last four years. Fucking TDCJ psych ward. This is where they send the real fucked up prisoners. I’m in for murder, but I managed to make the courts believe I was completely insane. I thought I’d get to go to some hospital. I figured I could handle a lifetime of dealing with the crazies, then having to fight everyday to protect myself and my man-hood.

“Where are my smoking glasses?”

My hands tremble as I type this. I apologize for any mistakes I might make, but I don’t have much time. To be honest, I’ll be lucky to finish, but before it’s too late, I need to warn you. All of you.

I’m usually a ‘take things slow’ kind of girl, but there was something about her in the bar that night. I was sitting at a table in the back, watching my friends’ coats and purses while they were out on the dance floor. This was my usual role, and I suspected it was the only reason they still invited me out.

There she is the center of my affection. The reason I wake up in the morning. I have heart palpitations because of her. Jessica Mackenzie. I have known her ever since preschool, and I have been in love with her since. I have tried to confess my feelings to her, believe me I have, but every time I see her, I freeze up and bite my tongue. She was always sociable. Like the planets that revolve around the Sun, she could pull people into her orbit.

Tommy Morgan did not have the best life. Coming from a broken home, the young 11-year-old only experienced the worst: his father would return home drunken like a skunk, and he would get into heated arguments with his wife over money and how since he was the bread maker, he could do with his earnings what he saw fit. Tommy’s mother would do chores around the house, her eyes red from sobbing.