Short Story

General Patrick finally took notice of the trident on the uniforms of all of the men sitting at the table, not to mention the tape on the uniforms that read ‘US Navy’. “How the hell….” General Patrick said out loud.

At a quarter to 3 p.m. on the nose, he had already had everything all set on his end. Only one last thing left to do and that was to hit the enter button on his laptop’s keypad which would kick start the program that would enact of the algorithms he spent the past 48 hours building. Algorithms which sole purpose was to seize and wreak havoc. The government’s entire network system would then be in the hands of Phillip and his friend’s on the other side—God be with

“When we opened the doors in the kitchen, we were shocked to find a door leading to the basement. Lying right in the middle of the floor, there were submachine guns, handguns and several rifles along with many knives. We also found a machine used for making false ID’s and driver’s license hidden in the basement that’s why Mathew Morgan’s driver’s license looks so real. Since Mr. Hudson lived alone, no one ever checked on him. As a result, when they murdered him, no one missed him. Pretty smart of Matthew Morgan to find someone like Mr. Hudson and replace him,” Steve said, shaking his head.

''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.''

Remus, seeing strait through the fake interest growled and let Moony take over his mind. He said nothing but instead rammed into the door. He bounced off it and went to do it again, this time he let his magic aid him and swirl around him as he came in contact with the sturdy wood.

Rudolfo turned to the curious eyes behind him. They were his people and they wanted... no. They needed his words, his father's words.

You concluded that you were asleep. Everything around you was pitch black and you were in a trace-like state.

“The annual cycle of its killings? And the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. Like some kind of fertility right. I even checked with a professor who found the exact god that we are dealing with,” Fay answered.

“Don’t take my answer of ‘no’ as a coward’s response, but I’m trying to make it back home to my family. Up until this point, we’ve only been gassed. We’re still in the dark, but nothing is attacking us. I think if we tough it out, we’ll make it out of here alive. But if we go snooping in the dark, there’s no telling what we might find.”

As he closed the door behind him, a small smile lit his face. If only they knew his secret...he was grateful for the relative privacy of his office, and the monitor facing away from the door as he settled into his desk, deciding he'd check in on a certain email before starting his work day.

Last week, dressed in her tailored suit and mile-high red heels, Morgana walked into the neighborhood watering hole in the Bronx. The pub was dim, crowded, and smelled like stale beer and musky cologne, but despite the irritating odor, she enjoyed the drinks and the laid-back atmosphere, even if she stuck out like a sore thumb when she came dressed in business attire straight after work. But that didn’t really matter, because she and her crowd were celebrating Merlin’s master’s degree by consuming nachos, wings, and beer. It was a fine night to let loose and chow down on greasy food. After all, this was Merlin, who worked so hard at his two jobs, teaching grade school and tutoring disadvantaged kids at the community center, all while

Staying in the middle of New York currently is bothersome. There is a raging heat outside and my air conditioning unit has broken down. No one comes into my shop, except for my regulars, anymore. No one believes in old styled medicine, anymore. No one, except, for the boy roaming in my shop comes in, anymore. He looks about fourteen and a little dirty, but who isn’t at his age. His footsteps cause my discolored floorboards to creak, I hope he doesn’t fall through one of them. His green eyes look lost, but his body knows where he is. He comes in regularly and at the same exact time, two o’clock p.m. His watch goes off, he turns it off, then he sets a new time, and begins to roam. Now, he is in the back end of my storefront, looking at the

Apologies from Phelps followed an established routine. First came the words. Then a brief silence as he fought to justify his actions. But Tom knew, when it happened, his explanation would be thorough, heartfelt and sincere, and he sensed he would learn more about his father's disappearance in the coming minutes than in the previous six years.

“How many times do I have to tell you to let go of me?!” She screams sharply, tugging and pulling violently against the secured fist gripped around her delicate wrists that were leaving ugly, purple bruises and cuts on her colorless skin.

I cursed under my breath and managed to open the extremely loud, stubborn door. I decided I wouldn’t tell my neighbor and let him think it happened en-route to his house.