By Steven Patchett: I hadn’t heard a crash or cries of distress, only the ambulance screaming past my record store, sirens howling on the way to scoop up what was left. I went to look but didn’t get closer than my doorway, watching a crowd gather, vulture-like, for the scraps. … Continue readingDead Wax

By Charles EP Murphy: Un-themed “dread inducing” shorts, okay, what causes dread? Think about something. C’mon, c’mon, you have to think, you have to get this done—no, not bloody zombies, come on. Try harder. You need to keep your mind off things. … Continue readingSubmission to Dose of Dread

By Dixon March: She skipped lunch for all the work she had to do, and by the time she ran to the Grocer’s she was ravenous. That afternoon the sky turned the color of old whalebone as a storm blew in from the sea. … Continue readingTo Eat the Evening Meal

By Andrew Kozma: The neighborhood was going to shit. Houses were disappearing on a daily basis, and in their place sprouted the black domes, polished to a mirror-shine. … Continue readingThe Plague

By Belicia Rhea: The first time Ariana came to school with a nosebleed, I dug in my backpack for a tissue and offered it to her, trying to be nice. She didn’t take it, just wiped her hand at the running smears of red along her Cupid’s bow. … Continue readingThere We Were in the Dark

By Sarah Peploe: Wrists sunk in froth at the kitchen sink. I do the glasses first of course. Sponge-scrub firmly out and in and round and pay especial attention to the lip where lips touch. Wash the lacy spittle off them under the hot tap. … Continue readingSink

By Keith LaFountaine: LaToya stared at her fellow crewmates, lilting in zero gravity as the burning sun broke the void outside their ship. She hated weightlessness. The queasiness in her guts, lack control, the fact that she couldn’t even drink a glass of water–it had to be squirted from a tube like a carnival candy. … Continue readingSilence

By Eric Raglin: Four ghosts don’t cut it anymore. My ancestors swirl foglike and cool the air above our farm, but the world’s gotten too hot for rain again. Adding another ghost should fix that for a while, get us a couple good downpours before the growing season is out. The question is whether it will be me or Dad. … Continue readingDead Rain

By Holley Cornetto: I know they want her, because she’s perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, and chubby red cheeks. The pregnancy was a breeze. I was never sick, never had complications. … Continue readingShe Who is No Longer Mine

By Erik McHatton: Three days ago, it was Henkel. Today, Rosha. Only Sheena, Malcor, and I remain. We huddle together, we three, shaded in our tent, unsafe within our village’s walls, holding only terror between us. … Continue readingA Liturgy for Rosha