The Murder House (Allegedly) There goes another one, walking into the quaint Island Meats house. The problem is, people go in but no one comes out. I’ve been watching from the café across the street for the last four hours. Tally: 56 people entering, 0 exiting. Finally, I called 911. “. . . and I…
Tag: David Stewart
Death Mill
Death Mill “It roars through, same time every afternoon, on these metal rails. No one knows from where or to where.” “They’ve got to lead somewhere. You could follow them.” “I tried! Walked for, like, an hour. Still going. What’s important, though, it’s great for milling wheat. You put the wheat all along the rails…
It’s Crazy, I Know
It’s Crazy, I Know Don’t bother telling me, I know it’s crazy. I saw her once for three seconds two weeks ago as my train passed. She was wearing overalls, and as I passed, she was reaching up to the branch of a tree. Her village doesn’t have a station. I figured out the name…
Shoppers from Elsewhere
Shoppers from Elsewhere Our tables were ready when the Others stepped through the Door, otherworldly eyes wide and curious. They circulated the flea market, buying goods before returning to wherever they came from. No one knew. Or cared. They liked plastic, and they paid in platinum, making every 37th day a jackpot. A woman (probably)…
The Green-Walled Treehouse 