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Aftermath - BowlerHatGirlAftermathAftermath - BowlerHatGirl
Wallflower:
Only a month has passed. One month since the local news told us that odd chemicals had been found in the sewers. Or since Tommy’s preschool called, saying that the only part of him they could find was his left hand. One month since the monsters first attacked.
My parents were killed last week. They were at a casino, getting supplies, when three monsters came in. They walk on two legs. They run like mad. They sliced up mom and dad and ate wildly.
I found their left hands on my bed the next morning.
JT :
Today’s the month-a-ivers
by ~FictionWorkshop
BWC 2 - ConnorchapDinner with Dave By ConnorchapBWC 2 - Connorchap
Sunday, October 10, 2004, 9:40 P.M. Besides the clacking sounds of metal on stone that could be heard faintly from the other room, and the dull bass hum occupying the empty air, the musty sitting area was currently rather silent. A few boxes couldn’t really have been said to clutter up the corner of the room, though they tried very hard for at least a modicum of disorderly arrangement. A sofa and a recliner sat in only vague need of cleaning near the left center of the room, and then the right side of the room bore host to a none-too-scratched coffee table. The ring of
by ~FictionWorkshop
BWC 2 - CaptainQuirkLately, I’ve been getting these headaches. Usually, they’re not so bad. But I never used to get headaches before and that worries me. It worries my father too, but only because he doesn’t want it to affect my schoolwork. I think he cares about my grades more than he cares about me, because if I get a C on something, he’ll yell at me. What does he care? It’s my life.BWC 2 - CaptainQuirk
He’ll demand, “Andrew! Why aren’t you studying?” To which I reply, “I am.”
Whether I am actually stu
by ~FictionWorkshop
TheCircle ch1-secretladyspiderHe learned the hard way. Boy oh boy, that was the least of it. The taste of iron rotted in his mouth as he sputtered out the small bit of blood that had come out, glaring at the foe, hating him with all he could muster. Droplets of sweat streamed down his face like tears as the new-formed rain plastered ebony hair to his acne-covered brow. ”Shit, rain.” Rickety legs hoisted him up into standing. Standing was what mattered in the long run. Now the colorless T was totally see-through, the denims were their darkest navy, the tennis shoes leaking as their many cavernous holes ruptured forth. A chuckle, looking atTheCircle ch1-secretladyspider
by ~FictionWorkshop
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