The Passing of Ten Hearts_The Third Wave_Witches of Woodlawn_Of her return
Catalog Guide:
The Passing of Ten Hearts
Ten Hearts inched on her belly across the mountain cave floor. She rested her scaly chin on the mounds of gold and jewels. Their power to cool her anger, to calm her with their sparkle was waning. She believed she might be dying. She cocked one slitted eye to the ceiling. The other eye was milky and almost completely closed by its third eyelid. She could hear the men and their metal above. Always their movements vibrating through the earth. It had gotten worse in the past few centuries, like wasps that won’t leave the ear alone. Ten Hearts hissed a flame to the ceiling. The rock above ...
The Third Wave
When The First Wave happened, everyone was an expert. “Shoot ‘em in the head! It’s the only way!” “It’s a virus - don’t get infected, and you’ll survive.” “They’ll starve themselves out.” “Kill anyone who gets bitten. No questions asked.” No one was calling them “zombies,” but that’s what they were - to an extent. Crazed, infected people with rotting skin. Every “doomsday prepper” and horror-movie fan had been prepared for this moment, and they rose to the occasion. Survival of the fittest. Close-knit groups.www.onedoor.cc Kill on site, ask questions later. Trust no one.And, in their defense, the world di...
Witches of Woodlawn
[Pronunciation help: Dáithí - DAH-hee; Siobhán - Shi-VAWN]Nora entered the spacious pub on a corner of Katonah Avenue at midday on Monday, an hour before the bar opened. A guy about her age, mid-twenties, with a button down shirt and neatly combed hair was waiting for her at a booth next to the bar. Seeing Nora, he climbed out of the seat and shook her hand.“Nora?”“That’s me. It’s nice to meet you. Joe, right?”“Yep.” Joe gestured to the booth and Nora sat in it. She was holding a folder with her resume and some references from other bars she worked at. Joe examined the resume and references. “...
Of her return
The hospital corridor is stuffy and the air has an undertone of bleach. The walls are magnolia and are scraped in places from the hundreds of trolleys that have bumped into them. The pictures on the walls are cheap benign prints of uplifting scenes and above the double doors are large blue plastic signs with the areas of the hospital that lie ahead. I am a mother now. A mother to a beautiful little baby girl. Tiny fingers curl around my pinky. I watch the newborn peer through brand new eyes at what must be such a strange world after life in the womb. Her legs kick in a tiny jagged motion, look...