Short Story

A Peculiar Demise

The weirdness began on the day I died…

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…view from up here is incredible and makes me feel somehow complete, which is ironic. I’m aware of the fact that I’m dead, although any disassociation from my material being doesn’t seem to have kicked in yet. I look down, out across the world that I’ve called home for thirty-six years, and I realise with some slight sense of melancholy that I won’t miss it at all. I’ve had a damn good run. But all good things, as they say, must come to an…

By Martin Webb

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Part 5: Bad News

…to rest comfortably at the local inn before leaving. Who knows how long and dangerous the trip is going to be precisely. I didn’t sleep comfortably that night. I tossed and turned in bed as I tried keeping my mind off this uncomfortable chest plate and the weird sword that won’t speak to me anymore. As soon as the sun starts to rise, I get up from the bed. I have to travel by day.

When I’m about to leave Moon Valley, Titan stops me.

Why can’t I ever avoid him? He’s got some eagle eyes. Although at the moment…


By Cristina Collazo

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The Abyss

…slate-like under my bare feet; cold, slick, impenetrable. The air is stale and clammy. My hands blindly lunge into obscurity; nothing within grasp, only the vacuum of the dark barren. The cold emanates from within my soul and spreads through the fibers of my nerves, embracing every inch of my body. I call out; my voice falling flat, no walls to echo my shout. I shiver, not knowing if this is from the chilling dankness or my own fear and fall to the ground.

Sobbing, I crawl through the misty darkness for hours. The floor is slick from the dewy…

By Tracey Koehler

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Part 4: Trapped

…village has already been cleaned up or melted away. Before I search for Albert, I decide to take care of me. I sell the fish in a bundle for twenty coins and a coin per seashell ending up with twenty-six coins. Twenty-five will be spent on the room. I offer the last coin to the innkeeper as a tip. I cook up and devour my seaweed for lunch at the center fire before finding the armorsmith.

What might have been a mighty combatant back in the day was currently a cumbersome man. He stood in front of the armory shop…

By Cristina Collazo

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My Daddy

…couldn’t accuse my daddy of being a physical bully for he never showed the back of his hand to any of us. He didn’t scream or throw things, barely ever raised his voice. But he was cruel in one meaningful way. His sense of humour. That man thought he was about the funniest person he knew and no one could tell him different. Now, I should explain, his sole goal in life was to make himself laugh. His was an audience of one. What other folks did was their business.

Take me for example. My mother had named my three…

By David Milburn

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