I know people that would literally murder me if they knew I put this on the internet. But I don’t see many other options. If I go straight to the cops odds are I’LL get blamed for what happened to my friends and get thrown straight in jail for a multitude of reasons. And I know at least one of them is alive and I need to find them.
I’m a smuggler. I… come into possession of objects I shouldn’t have and sell it to whatever fat cat wants a new piece for their mantle. The Witch Coffin is probably the biggest thing I was gonna try and sneak into the states, but that was because it was a specific ‘request’. The Witch Coffin was discovered in eastern Europe, and to be honest I’m not sure why the buyer wanted it so damn badly. But hey, me and my crew were gonna get a mil and we figured we might as well try, right?
Theft itself went off without a hitch, but the next day I got picked up for being spotted at the scene. That’s all they had, but I still got kept in lock up for three days. Glad they let me out without a fight in the end but the moment I got back to the hideout I knew something was wrong. I could hear the flies buzzing.
It was me, Jessie Bates, Hunter Gilch, and Gabrielle Edison. We are the reason that Bobby Tanner never returned home that Friday night ten years ago, why every year his parents send out a plea asking for their son to come home. It was us. The senior class rejects.
For a bit of background, I work at an insurance company. I’m not exactly changing the world, but it pays well and it’s usually pretty chill. Except for yesterday, which I just really need to rant about. It was a bunch of little things that stacked up to my… almost explosion.
The water cooler was dripping nonstop. Citrix servers had gone down and that was the main program I use for work. I had a pounding headache from the bright lights in the office and my skin was all dried out from the artificial air. And for fuck’s sake, Barbara would just not leave me alone.
“This is what you have to do to become a man, Christian.” My dad practically shoved me out of his truck. I turned back to see him light up a cigarette for my cousin Dave in the backseat.
Dave looked at me and grinned crookedly. “Make sure to wrap your tool!” He teased before reaching forward and pulling the door shut, having to slam it twice to make sure it actually stayed closed.
Well, this was actually happening. I swallowed before I walked down the street, hearing my dad’s truck backfire twice before it drove off. I was now alone out here. Granted, I could use my phone and call an Uber, maybe even beat my dad home, but I had to do this. I was eighteen. I had to prove to the rest of my family that I was a real man.
I would’ve rather stuck my head in a blender and turned that shit on puree than do this, but I didn’t have a choice. It was either go across the bridge or be called a pussy the rest of my life. Or at least until the end of the summer. When you’re eleven, there’s really not much of a difference.
The only way to end this endless teasing was to cross the troll bridge. Well, we called it the troll bridge. We weren’t sure what it was really called back then. It wasn’t anything special, just a small stone bridge that went over a creek just outside of town. It wasn’t used much anymore, it wasn’t big enough for a car to go over and there was talk of tearing it down, but it just never got done.
Out of the nine guys at Dillan’s bachelor party, I’m the only one left alive. And I don’t know how much more time I have.
Dillan was a friend from my highschool days. We weren’t close, but we hung out when all our other friends were busy. I was happy to hear he was getting hitched to his girl Heather, they were good for each other. When he asked me to join him and a few of the other guys for drinks, I happily accepted. One last crazy night before he said I Do.
We’d all gotten pretty buzzed when Mickey threw out this brilliant idea:
An unknown disease called the Venera Virus is spreading rapidly through the entire world that guarantees a painful death in the months that follow. People are desperate to find a cure for this mysterious and highly contagious disease but all the hospitals can do for now is help the pain of those infected.
Shiko Nakayama is eight years old and he’ll be turning nine in October. He loves to read books and watch nature shows.
And he is one of the children who’s contracted the Venera Virus.
It’s here! It’s done! The Children at The End of the World, I’ve been editing this all through spring and it’ll be officially released on March 22nd, put in your order here!
I think every straight guy in my school had a thing for Miss Bell.
I’m the last dude you want to come to when it comes to judging ‘female beauty’, but even I could admit she was pretty. Blonde hair usually drawn back in that messy bun style, a bod that would make Venus jealous, and a round face that was nearly always smiling or laughing.
She was our English II teacher, she’d just transferred in that year from California. During our first class, she told about going to college and how she used to surf on the weekends. My friend Sean elbowed me and whispered about how she’d look in a bikini. My practical ass said that she probably was wearing a wetsuit when she surfed. This got the back of my head punched and Sean whispering ‘Gaaaaaaaaaay’ into my ear. I mean, really not inaccurate, but the punch wasn’t necessary.
I suppose it started small, like all addictions do. I was in the first grade, having some corner time because I threw a crayon at Brandon’s head. He totally deserved it but that’s another story for another day.
Anyway, I was facing the brick wall, imagining horrible fates for this jerk of a classmate when I heard a quiet buzzing. I looked by my feet to see an old cobweb, spider long gone but the dusty threads still managing to capture a fly. It wiggling and squirmed and if I hadn’t interfered it probably would have gotten loose and carried on with its life. But before I realized it I had plucked the fly free and placed it in my mouth.