The black screen fades to a bright light.

A pair of broken glasses on broken ground. 

The lenses are round and cracked.

Smoke and embers floats above them. 

Ash floats above them.

A hand with a bruised wrist and scabbed

fingers reaches down and picks up the glasses.

One of the stems gets left behind. As the glasses

move through the air the lenses flicker and time begins 

to

move

backwards.

The people in the theater will see images in the lenses:

fire,

an explosion.

The images move up and down as running,

falling, getting up

happen again and again.

There is a spray of blood and the blurry face of the love interest

(the face is blurry so the people watching can insert

the face of their own love interest into the picture).

A cigarette zooms into focus as it is lifted to the Wearer’s lips,

abrasions on the fingers, blood slick down the knuckles.

Vomit.

Tears.

Rain.

There is a scream, the first

sound since the movie started. 

It is not the scream of a victim, a trapped animal, but a scream of 

thwarted desperation.

The quick stick of a knife.

The Wearer falls and is held down by a heavy body.

The ripping of clothing.

A punch to the face.

The glasses are knocked askew.

There is a television screen with a news announcement and

A social media post promising bad weather ahead.

There is the hand again, not bruised, not bloody.

The glasses are not broken anymore and they finally settle 

on the Wearer’s face.

There is morning.

There is sunlight.

*

Photo by J. E. Schoondergang on Unsplash

FARROWTHORN

HADES BLACK SITE

JUNE 4, 2006

17:33:33

They called themselves hunters because hunting was their job. They wore uniforms like fake soldiers in movies—all black like they wanted to blend in with the night itself—but they never turned the lights off, so they stood out against the white cinderblock walls and concrete balconies like dead trees and a winter sky. They all had a special badge on their shoulders with a skull, two smoking guns, and some scribbles underneath it. The skull was a wolf skull. Like hers, her real skull anyway. Having two bodies, Doctor Gregor said, was complicated.

Continue reading “Dead Girl Moon Chapter One”

The Librarian

a Short Story by Jessa Forest

Download your free PDF version here.

The big table makes you look smaller than you are. Like a little morsel, a macaroon, a petit four alone on a dinner plate. You twitch, fidget. You curl your spine protectively over your phone screen despite the towers of books that surround you. Ponderous tombs of science, philosophy, and madness.

The World Atlas Extraordinaire sits on a stand older than this building next to you, propped open to the Pacific Islands, resplendently corralled by the cartography of the currents, dancing whorls of sacred scarification.

Each time the door slides open your eyes dart around in your skill like scared rabbits. You’re looking toward the door now; the shining glass, the herald of the morning sun. You are waiting for someone.

Continue reading “The Librarian: a dark fantasy short story”