Arc 1: Say Nothing

I took the stairs five at a time, spinning at each landing and using the handrail to nearly throw myself down the next flight. My body protested, it had already been flung around enough tonight. I leapt down the last flight of stairs to the second floor and my legs buckled. My knees crashed painfully […]

Where? Where? Where is it? My flashlight had gone out when it was knocked out of my hand. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the gunshots, but I couldn’t see the monster. My eyes strained against the dark, trying to see past it, to locate the monster so at least I knew if

My bag rattled with items as I sifted through everything I had brought. Sitting on the steps of a church, holding my flashlight in my mouth, I took stock of what I had. Rope, duct tape, first aid kit, pepper spray… My fingers brushed the sheath of the hunting knife I borrowed from my mother

I slid into the booth across from Chase. It was loud and busy inside the restaurant. A sports team was jostling with each other around the drink machine. There were some tourists crowded around the windows on the far side, taking pictures of the towering Nentech building framed by the Sill.  Chase grinned at me

After Mac and Claire said their goodbyes, I got ready and headed over to the dance studio. My head was buzzing with what I was going to ask Chase, but it was still an hour before we planned to meet. I needed to calm down and distract myself. A bell chimed as I opened the

I took a roundabout way home, trying to avoid people who might see me covered in blood and decide to call the cops. Luckily, the rain picked up again, and I didn’t see many people. It was past midnight at this point and while many people were still out partying, they seemed to be staying

I felt dizzy. My vision of the alleyway seemed to bend around the monstrosity in front of me. The arms moved perpetually, but never with a unified goal. One arm dragged its nails across the man’s torn jeans. Another caressed his face, like it loved him. The man chuckled. “Not a pretty sight, I know.”

I read the name of the pub for the third time, “Raise Your Spirits”. The neon sign presented a pixie lifting a martini glass twice her size. I leaned against the bike rack in front of the place and swiped aimlessly on my phone, reading tabloid headlines: “Mayor Bell recorded dumping trash in the river!