The Separator
Sabrina grasped the heavy bag with sweaty hands, fumbling with the tie in the darkened room. The floor was dingy, marked up with other “deliveries” being taken in and out. The rain poured down outside. She dragged the bag up, her arm muscles straining with the effort, as she locked eyes with Mr. West, who nodded at her solemnly. There was no one better at taking care of a messy scene. They never spoke about what was in the bags she picked up every week – but she had seen his handiwork before: The sad, shrunken figures, the bleached red stains, the neatly wrapped parts. Mr. West made sure everything was wiped clean. She didn’t want to look inside, but she felt compelled to check his work. She untied the knot with trembling hands, and dumped the contents onto the floor. It was her laundry, like always.
Dark Matter
It was the middle of the night, and Karissa had the sense that something was off – very off. The air conditioner rumbled, giving off a low, keening moan, and all she could think of was her roommate’s stories of the burial ground nearby where local kids used to mutilate their pets for fun. Karissa always shrugged the stories off as her actress roommate being dramatic, but for some reason, they were all she could think about tonight. Suddenly, she heard an unearthly noise coming from the bathroom. Her cat, Stereo, was meowing in a guttural way that Karissa had never heard before. If she didn’t know better, she would have said it sounded he was being tortured. Karissa shot up in bed and switched on the side lamp. “Stereo?” she said, cautiously peeling back the thin summer sheet. “What’s wrong?” She opened the bathroom door and bit her lip to keep from screaming. The cat was dragging herself across the floor with only her front paws, a grotesque feline parody of a soldier’s crawl. Stereo’s back legs were limp and useless and her tiny face was contorted in a mask of fury. As the cat slid closer, Karissa willed herself to lean forward – she had to find out what had happened. Then she flipped on the light and saw that Stereo had some poop stuck to her butt.
Fiesta for One
Bang! Bang! Bang, Bang Bang! Angelica slammed her subject again and again onto the edge of the counter. “Last chance,” she leaned close and hissed, giving the battered thing in front of her a painful squeeze. “You piece of shit!” The jar of salsa popped open a second later.
The Birthday Present
Rochelle woke up on her 35th birthday feeling strange. She made coffee and breakfast, but just as she was pouring herself some chocolate almond milk, she stopped, struck by a sudden pain. What felt like a sharp, jagged edge was ripping downward, and a sensation of stone-cold lightning shot from her clavicle to her toes. It was almost as if she could feel a wall of earth rising up inside her. For some reason her mind flashed: rock formations. Ice picks. Her fingers trembled as she dialed 9-1-1. “Please, I need help – there’s something…changing me. Please…I think it’s…I think it’s turning me to stone!” Rochelle gasped, as frozen edges jutted into her organs. The operator didn’t miss a beat: “How old are you today?”
“35,” Rochelle managed, her voice hoarse with fright. “It’s my birthday.” To Rochelle’s surprise, the operator gave a quick, relieved laugh. “Ohhhhhh, honey. We get three calls a week like this. It’s just your fertility cliff forming. Mother Nature’s a bitch, isn’t she?”
Friday the 15th
Lorraine was happily scrolling her Facebook feed one rainy night, when a chill came over her. She felt eyes on the back of her neck – the heavy weight of an evil glare – but every time she turned around, all she saw were her own curtains, billowing in the wind. Bling! The sound of her chat window startled her. “Hello.” The typed message blinked ominously. “Who is this?” Lorraine typed back, her pulse beginning to race. “You know who this is,” the stranger returned. “I’ve been waiting for you, bitch.” Lorraine gasped and hit the x in the top right corner of the chat, erasing it for good. She took a deep breath and shook her head gently, trying to rid herself of the creepy feeling. Bling! Bling! Bling! Lorraine watched helplessly as the words invaded her screen. “Seriously Lorraine, I’m waiting for you at the Cracker Barrel.” “It’s Amy.” “Did you mix up the dates again?”
