Short Story

She forced herself to breathe slowly so she could think. How did I end up here? Why was I here? Her mind drew a blank. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember a single bloody thing. She threw everything she had left in her fading mind

“You're all done.” Eve said. I look at her, stand up and reach to get my phone. I click the on button and see a message.

Asami groaned in the darkness, the grogginess of her nap hanging over her like a storm-cloud. She stretched, splaying out across her bed, not quite sure which way the bedhead was facing, or whether or not she was still on her bed or simply curled up in her sheets lying on the floor. The alarm on her phone screamed through the room.

“I’ll have 6 eggs, a big glass of orange juice, a banana, and some oatmeal please” said DeSean “ You’re one crazy kid” said the female bartender at IHop. “Yes ma’am, I might be crazy ,but ready for football this morning” DeSean responded swiftly. The bartender responded almost immediately saying “Damn right, hope you do well this morning, I’ll have that food out real quick honey”. DeSean waited for less than 5 minutes before chowing down on over 1000 calories. He exchanged some words with the bartender and he was off to football.

Gerard rolled over and sat up as he heard Mikey open cabinets and drawers downstairs. His head still felt heavy and fuzzy with disorientation, like it had been yesterday, feeling like someone had filled his head with molten metal and it had slowly hardened overnight. He placed his feet on the carpet and willed his legs to allow him to stand up on the cold, hard wood. He didn't feel particularly sick, more depersonalized, like a part of him was still laying in bed

“Yeah, guess we should headon home, it’s been a long day, I never knew why I actually ran away, I just saw the road and I took off right then and there.” Diedrich said calmly.

Whatever obscure scene he had found himself in, it had passed. He closed his eyes and let out a small sob of relief, but refused to lower his guard all the same. The darkness had still yet to lift from his vision; because his eyes remained painfully scrunched shut. Whether it was a refusal on his part or simply his that his body coping with the trauma, he simply could not bring himself to see a thing.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll be on night patrol for the new few evenings, so I won’t have the chance to see you,” said Perceval abruptly. “Would it be all right if I called on you after that?”

I grab it and stand, shaking the pins and needles out of my feet. “Where am I now?” I ask. The world I’m standing in is peacefully gray and empty, excepting us and the red brick pavement. In all the times I’ve seen Death, he’s always brought me here, this misty place that smells faintly of ammonia.

When he awoke his cheek was ticklish and cold and it felt as though the front of his face had taken on a new feature. At first he hadn't been too sure what it was, a few seconds of merciful amnesia, the way you'd awake in the morning only to remember some great tragedy or incident that had occurred not twenty-four hours ago.

He took in a deep, trembling breath while tears ran down his face. He could feel the wound on his side bleed out as he shifted on the couch. He sucked in his lips and wiped his eyes while the dial tone rang, waiting for Foggy to answer the phone.

Three hours later, the door to the S-Com-Sys opened, Margret and Sam walked out into the hall. “You have done very well. I am very confident that you will perform your assignment without any problems.” She explained.

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

“Okay, you should get more rest anyway.” After Lex made sure I was alright, she left me alone to drift off into

The smattering of rain on the roof overhead calms me, beating out an irregular rhythm like an anxious child unconsciously tapping his foot. The dim glow of my phone screen washes over me as I wait for the light to return, cut off by the flash flood inducing rain. I look around, and sigh; yet again, the lights on the ceiling are blank, leaving me with nothing to shield myself from the impending darkness.