Second Chances

I never leave anything on the nightstand. Ever. So when I reached for my glasses that morning, I was surprised by the piece of paper underneath them. A pamphlet for CyLife. Mandi, I thought. I put the pamphlet down again. I didn’t want to think about it.

It was my normal waking hour. 5:15 am, even without the alarm. Routine took over. Feed the cat. Shower, shave. Suit and tie. A breakfast of egg whites, fruit and low-fat cottage cheese. Then I remembered I wasn’t supposed to go to work that day.

Uncertainty crept in, and I returned to the pamphlet on my nightstand. Smiling, happy families. Survivors, supposedly. People who had benefited from CyLife’s “revolutionary techniques.” I wondered how many of them were actors. Maybe all of them. Charles had told me the procedure was experimental, but he wouldn’t tell me how many patients had survived the operation. That meant not many.

Continue reading

Wishing Only Wounds The Heart

A thousand whispers followed the path she tread, speaking words of death and fear for any who were perceptive enough to hear. That was not many in this place? They were too drunk, too troubled, or too dim to expand their minds enough to perceive. The ghosts who had died here recognized her for what she was, however, and their angry voices followed her as long as she walked the paths where they had been murdered.

Despite their general self-absorption, humans could sense her when she came too close. They could feel the fiery cold that crept up their spines in searing tendrils and then held their hearts in terror. Perhaps they couldn’t even tell that it was her, but they all felt it.

The streets had emptied early that night, far before she had even come. This was quite unusual, though the occasional person could still be seen staggering down the dusty roads. Hardly anything kept all the drunks, the foolhardy, and the fortune seekers off of the streets of Kei when there was money to be made.

Continue reading
1 8 9 10