by Jim Stitzel | Jun 19, 2024 | Stories
This entry is part 5 of 5 in the series AvaAn infant, if you can call it that, toddles into the ground floor of a broken skyscraper. The child is naked, but it carries in its hands a white tennis shoe. The infant-creature is warped, misshapen, its skull distended and...
by Jim Stitzel | Jun 18, 2024 | Stories
This entry is part 4 of 5 in the series AvaThousands of birds swarmed through the sky like a great, migratory organism — swelling, shrinking, pulsing according to an invisible rhythm only they could feel. They flew over the countryside, darkening the sky for long...
by Jim Stitzel | Jun 18, 2024 | Stories
This entry is part 3 of 5 in the series AvaBeth turned away from the screen. “Turn it off.” The security footage of Ava’s raw power was sickening. “Girl’s not natural,” Thad said. “Nothing that causes such wanton destruction on a global scale can be natural.” Beth...
by Jim Stitzel | Jun 18, 2024 | Stories
This entry is part 2 of 5 in the series AvaThe cast-off tennis shoe lies discarded in the gravel by the side of the road, its white leather dry and cracked. Just beyond it stands a sign delineating, in large block letters, a speed zone of 30 MPH. Atop the sign a black...
by Jim Stitzel | Jun 17, 2024 | Stories
“Don’t get discouraged,” the Voice says, right into my ear. Which is weird, because there’s no one there, and I’m not wearing an earpiece. “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” it continues, “so I expect it will take you more than one to solve this puzzle.” I’ve been here for...
