by Jim Stitzel | Jul 1, 2024 | Stories
Do you know who I am? Because I sure don’t. At least I don’t know who I am here, in this world. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have amnesia. I recall fully well who I was before I got here. And I remember how I got here, passing through a crack in my bedroom wall. It...
by Jim Stitzel | Jun 26, 2024 | Stories
It’s 8am, and there is a dead saddled horse in my bed. Mind you, it’s a very small horse, a miniature pony, if you will. But it is fully saddled, complete with bit and bridle, and it is most definitely dead. Two questions immediately arise: 1) just how in...
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...
