Storygram #102
Mike shoved him over to the freezer and made him open it. Inside were rows upon rows of frozen creatures, each no bigger than Mike’s fist. “I’m sorry, Mike. But business was down, and everyone loves these things.”
Storygram #101
We live nestled into the safety of the mountains. My little brother and I have never seen the world outside of our cove, but Mom says there’s no reason to care about what’s out there anyway.
Storygram #100
In the home of William Oliver Knox, there were no city lights to stream through the windows and no busy streets to fill the air with noise. At night his home did its best to eradicate the safety of human companionship.
Storygram #99
The fog was barreling towards her like a train. It had no smiling engineer or delighted passengers—only a lust for death. Attempting to escape it would be futile, so she stood there, waiting. Just off the road, a doe watched her—its eyes pleading with her to run.
Storygram #98
Sometimes at night, it’s quiet enough to hear the cries of the souls that float along the surface. A woman’s soul once asked me, “Please, tell my son I’m sorry,” as she bobbed past. But no one can help them.
Storygram #97
He was running as fast as his damaged leg would allow him to, but they were still gaining on him. The wires hanging out of his shin kept snagging on tall grass, slowing him down even more. A bullet whizzed by his ear.