Growing Life

By Annie ZH Sun 

Lucy didn’t immediately notice her dead Mama in the middle of the playground. She had been busy having fun for the first time since Mama’s funeral. Sprinting like a bullet, she was a hand, a finger, a hair away from catching Evan, the fastest runner in her grade when something caught her foot, and she tripped face-first onto hard tarmac. A sharp pain split across her temple, and almost simultaneously, she felt the ground beneath her fissure. It was a tiny crack about the size of her pinkie, and she’d easily have missed it, except as warm blood trickled down her face, splattering across the black line, the edges of the earth seemed to pull apart, unfurling a hot stench so sharp that Lucy’s eyes watered. 

Around her, teachers and classmates alike were chattering, hollering and distracted. Nobody noticed she was hurt. She opened her mouth to get their attention. Her lips were glued tight together. No matter how hard she tried, she could not peel them apart. She turned back to the strange phenomenon, and watched, horrified, as the cracks continued to widen. With a hand cradling her injured head, she tried to inch away. By now the hole in the ground was cobra sized and deep within it, a bunch of crystals sparkled like the colour of sunlight caught under sea foams, a startling shade between teal and ice. Lucy’s heart throbbed in recognition. Those precious stones looked exactly like Mama’s favourite brooch, one she had personally pinned to the dress Mama was buried in. Caught in a trance, she let go of her still-bleeding head, and reached for the biggest jewel of them all; a golf sized aquamarine.  (Continue Reading…)

Annie’s Heart Is A Haunted House

By Todd Keisling

Sheila was the next to go. Before her, Tobias and Jenny.

Now there was only Rich and me, standing in the foyer and staring at the shredded remains of our fellow inmate. Half a torso and one leg. Some of her insides were scattered across the floor, and the whole foyer was a skating rink coated in her blood. There was no mistaking it. The House Master had been here, and it had treated Sheila like a grisly piñata.

“We were only gone for a couple of minutes…” Rich turned to me, his cheeks slick with tears, and held out his hands in defeat. I stood at his side and looked at the dead girl. She’d survived longer than I expected.

How many days had it been now? Sheila was the one who kept count, scratching a thin line in the upstairs hallway for every sleep cycle. With the windows bricked up, we had no idea if time even existed here, but it kept Sheila busy, gave her a purpose.

“She was gonna be my girlfriend,” Rich said, and dropped the fire iron at his side. “We just…last night…” He turned to the stairs, in the direction of our sleeping host. “You crazy bitch!”

His knees buckled, and I watched him sink to the floor in despair. I reached out to comfort him but thought better of it. There’s no point now. (Continue Reading…)