Did a simple ring hold the power to change a person’s life through magic?

Such a thought never crossed Ian’s mind before entering the antique store with Lilah. Rings were for marriage proposals and Super Bowl victories. Magic versions of this jewelry existed only within the pages of a fantasy novel. Never in real life.

Ian hoped to be proven wrong. Reuniting with Lilah hinged on him being wrong.

He studied the ring she bought from the antique store, turning it over in his hand. Runes were inscribed on both sides of a silver casing bordering a clear quartz gem. It reminded him of a senior class ring a student would order to celebrate their high school graduation

This ring housed powerful magic – or so the shopkeeper claimed to him and Lilah. Runes and gem worked together to channel energy to grant a wish to the ring bearer. Ian dismissed their claim as superstitious nonsense but kept those feelings to himself.

“Yeah, it’s pretty. It will look good on you.”

Those were his only words when Lilah insisted on buying the ring.

Ian felt thankful she made the purchase. This offered the only certain path to undo that horrific hit-and-run that broke her body and broke his soul. He sandwiched the ring between his thumbs and index fingers and stared at the clear quartz, letting his eyes swim in the gem.

One wish.

He only needed it to grant one wish.

“I wish for Lilah’s life to be restored to her,” Ian said. “Grant my wife the same robust energy and good health she enjoyed before the accident.”

After he said these words, the runes glowed for exactly 13 seconds and returned to normal. His eyes slid back to the urn resting atop the bookshelf in his home office. The lid popped off with the force of a cork sailing free from a champagne bottle and smashed into the ceiling. A howling wind rolled from one end of the office to the other, forcing Ian to squint and clench his teeth.

Ashes rose from the urn in a swirling cloud and drifted from the urn to a spot directly above the floor. Flames sprouted from the ashes and Lilah’s cremation reversed before his eyes. Bones were restored first. Then organs, muscles, and skin followed. Her mangled limbs became unbroken again. Eyes went from glassy to vibrant in an instant.

Flames and wind both vanished, leaving Lilah whole and unbroken again.

“You’re alive.” Tears streamed down Ian’s cheeks. “It worked. Oh my God, it worked.”

Lilah’s lips twisted into a confused frown. She blinked rapidly like a person trying to rouse themselves from a deep slumber.

“Where am I?” Her eyes drifted down to her chest and widened. “Where are my clothes? How come I’m naked?”

Ian sprang up from the leather office chair and raced over to his wife. He embraced Lilah and planted a kiss on her lips.

“I’ll find you some clothes,” he said, pulling back to look into her brown eyes. “I’m just so happy we’re together again. Three months without you felt like an eternity.”

Lilah’s brows knit together.

“I died, Ian. I went to heaven or paradise. Whatever you want to call it. Why am I here again?”

He stepped back and showed her the ring in his hand. Lilah’s face fell when she laid eyes on it and she dipped her chin to her chest.

“What have you done?” she whispered.

Ian frowned. He expected a much more joyful reaction from his soulmate. Not an ounce of gratitude for a wish that restored her life to her.

His hands trembled. Ian tried to steady the tremors, but they quickly morphed into deep muscle spasms. He let out a scream.

At once, both legs snapped. In the identical spots where Lilah’s were broken during her fatal accident. He collapsed to the floor.

“Didn’t you remember what I told you?” She looked up from the floor and fixed teary eyes on Ian. “To grant a wish, the ring balances the scales. Restoring one life requires sacrificing another.”

“I … thought … I’d …”

The sheer pain forced Ian to trail off before completing his thought. Ribs snapped inside him. Blood started filling his lungs. He sobbed and groaned as he tried to crawl toward her.

“I’ve missed you deeply, Ian. But I also knew our separation was only a temporary deal. Life exists beyond this one.”

Flames sprang to life. His body started to crumble. Ian silently cursed the ring as the last remnants of his energy ebbed. Draining his life away instead of taking the life of the drunk asshole who first killed Lilah seemed deeply unfair.

This ring had a warped sense of balancing the scales to grant an innocent wish.

If you enjoyed this horror story, browse my other short stories in the Strange New Worlds archives. Please check out the Deer Falls horror series as well, available at Amazon and other major booksellers.

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Friday the 13th Sale

To celebrate Friday the 13th, you can get a $1 off the regular list price for the eBook edition of Feral Lands — the survival horror anthology from Samak Press. This sale is going on at these select major book retailers on Friday only.

• Barnes and Noble

• Bookshop.org

• Apple Books

• Google Play

Grab your copy to own before the sale ends at the stroke of midnight.

No matter how often Jerry stared at the motivational plaque, he never gleaned any inspiration from the trite saying inscribed on its dull copper surface. Nothing more than a simplistic platitude mocking him from a perch above the cubby hole at his desk. Six words burrowing under his skin and chowing down on his frayed nerves.

The sky is not the limit.

Jerry planted his elbows on the desktop and buried his fists in his cheeks. Such a banal and naive philosophy. It transformed into the bane of his existence from the moment senior executives at Scrubb & Dent became enamored with the story behind the saying.

“I want to tear this plaque right off the wall and toss it straight into the incinerator,” Jerry mumbled.

Seeds of his angry frustration also took root in the inspiration behind the saying.

Peggy Gumbleton shocked the world in 2383 when — only a few weeks after turning 69 — she discovered the golden ratio for chocolate to marshmallows in common smores following a decade of painstaking research. Suddenly, everyone and their cloned dog touted her as a revolutionary innovator and lifted her up as a shining example of never being too old to fulfill a dream.

Nonsense.

Nothing about slapping chocolate and marshmallows together between graham crackers matched Jerry’s definition of revolutionary. Did it bring new sources of drinking water to the two parched desert planets orbiting GJ 1002? No. Did it lift Balmorean children out of the infamous slums on Balmorea? Still no. If Peggy Gumbleton had ended interplanetary hunger or learned how to forge a lasting peace among the Trilessian Collective, then hero worship centered on the woman would feel more palatable.

Who decided Peggy Gumbleton found a better way to make smores anyway? How were they measuring this shit?

This woman and her so-called historical milestone evolved from a passing annoyance to an intolerable nuisance earlier this morning. It infected Jerry’s annual quarterly review with Dave, his supervising manager.

“I know this is difficult to hear, but we need to see more Peggy Gumbleton in your work and less Jerry Riggs.”

Dave paused and visibly stifled a chuckle — as usual — after saying his last name. Damn his mother and father. They never met a pun they didn’t make. Jerry blamed his parents’ childish sense of humor for cursing him to endure a lack of respect forever.

“Stretch your wings, Jerry,” Dave continued. “Remember Peggy’s motto: the sky is not the limit. Let her words breathe life into your work here at Scrubb & Dent and who knows where you will go.”

Jerry knew exactly where he would go.

Bananas. Nuts. Insane in the membrane.

100% certifiably crazy.

Still, he knew better than to express those feelings aloud. Jerry dipped his head, muttered a hasty “I’ll do better” and exited Dave’s office. Since their meeting, he spent 42 minutes sitting at his desk and counting down the hours until the Trans-Uranus shuttle left the station and deposited him back at his cramped module apartment in Titania Nova.

Riding the Trans-Uranus shuttle always took longer than it should. Some of his fellow passengers insisted they like it that way. Made the journey more scenic.

“This doesn’t need to be a deep space freeway,” One passenger told Jerry on the ride home four cycles ago. “It’s relaxing to sit and soak in the wonders of the universe around us.”

Wonders of the universe? Please.

Deep space travel offered a boring sameness in every direction for Jerry. Dark emptiness broken only by distant pinhead blips of light nominally called stars. With all the hydrogen that Scrubb & Dent harvested from the clouds of Uranus, there should be more than enough fuel to speed the journey along. Hell, their atmospheric teleporters had turned culling deep pockets of hydrogen into a breeze.

If only he had a way of reaching Titana Nova sooner …

Wahbam!

Jerry jumped to his feet and pumped his fist. A perfect solution was in front of him the whole time. Atmospheric teleporters were capable of doing so much more than separating hydrogen from other gases native to Uranus and zapping it safely inside industrial storage tanks to be condensed and converted into spaceship fuel.

If a teleporter could move gas in an instant, moving a solid object — or even a person — shouldn’t be a big deal, right?

“So you think you’re the pick of the litter, Peggy?” Jerry waggled an index finger at the irksome plaque. “Prepare to have your socks blown off, bitch!”

Older atmospheric teleporters usually underwent routine maintenance inside the station’s auxiliary cargo bay. Jerry slipped down there, fully intending to tinker with one and test out his theory.

All maintenance systems were fully automated, which worked in his favor. The cargo bay robots barely noticed Jerry’s presence and cared even less that he was around. He ambled over to a smart terminal, trying his best to act casual and not draw unwanted attention to himself.

Jerry summoned an InstaThink chatbot and entered his query.

User JR-451: How do you adjust an atmospheric teleporter’s settings to teleport a solid object?

Chatbot: Teleporting solid matter is largely untested and can result in dangerous side effects. Please follow required safety procedures and consult with Scrubb & Dent risk assessment officers before changing settings.

User JR-451: Whatever. I’m cleared to make these changes. How do I change the settings to allow solid matter teleporting?

Chatbot: Modifying the base quantum algorithm should broaden the scope and range of an atmospheric teleporter to permit solid matter teleportation.

Jerry pressed the chatbot with several additional questions before finally obtaining a complete breakdown of how to correctly modify the base quantum algorithm. Now armed with step-by-step instructions and equations, Jerry downloaded everything he needed and found a candidate teleporter to modify.

Making modifications to the base algorithm proved much quicker and easier than he first imagined. After rebooting the teleporter’s power to finish installing the update, Jerry selected another teleporter in the cargo bay as a destination. Then he snatched up a nearby wrench and tossed it on the modified teleporter’s transport pad.

“Choke on this innovation, Peggy!” he said, adding a triumphant laugh.

The wrench evaporated in a harsh red beam. Only a few seconds passed before a similar beam shot down inside the destination transporter. A wrench materialized on the pad — fully intact.

Jerry uncorked a celebratory shout. He danced in front of the teleporter input screen while doing a raise the roof motion with his hands.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

A familiar echo-tinged voice interrupted his victory dance. Jerry groaned. He turned and locked eyes with Dave as his manager approached him with short-legged strides.

“Move over Peggy Gumbleton!” Jerry painted a smile back on his lips. “I beat her at her own innovation game.”

Dave answered him with a condescending smirk.

“That’s a bold claim. What evidence do you have to support it?”

Jerry frowned and pointed at the destination teleporter.

“See the wrench over there? I sent from one teleporter to another.”

“Uh huh. Teleporters don’t transport solid objects. You’re taking credit for someone misplacing a tool.”

Dave fit the definition of a tool to a tee. Jerry felt sorely tempted to single out this little factoid. He bit his tongue instead.

“Observe.”

Jerry snatched Dave’s ID badge off his uniform and tossed it on the transport pad.

“Hold on. That’s my –”

Dave drew closer and reached for the pad. He paused and yanked his hand back when a red beam blanketed the ID badge. When the badge quickly materialized on the other teleporter’s transport pad, his jaw dropped open.

“Whoa. That’s a total game changer.”

Jerry’s smile returned. “Right? It’s also my ticket out of this trash hole station.”

Dave’s smirk also returned and he gave Jerry a side-eye glance.

“You aren’t doing one thing with this discovery,” he said. “You are under contract with Scrubb & Dent and signed an iron-clad NDA when we first hired you here. We own all perpetual proprietary rights over this innovation.”

The smile melted right off Jerry’s face. Dave’s revelation stung worse than a horde of angry wasps going into full attack mode on a hot summer day. He didn’t have enough funds to fight Scrubb & Dent’s legal eagles for ownership over a teleporter capable of transporting solid matter.

“The board of directors will love this news,” Dave added, before walking away to retrieve his ID badge. “This company will make quadrillions in exclusive contracts.”

Damn that Peggy Gumbleton. Jerry always hated smores anyway.

Did you enjoy this compelling new science fiction tale? Browse through my other stories in the Strange New Worlds archives and check out my Alien People Chronicles series: (Alien People, Dark Metamorphosis, Among Hidden Stars) available at your local bookseller.

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Julia used to like her name.

Her parents insisted on giving her and her sisters biblical names because of their deep faith. The reasons behind it were not relevant. Julia fit her personality well as far as she was concerned. When she looked up the meaning once, she learned her name had a Latin origin and meant youthful. Learning that fact brought a smile to Julia’s face.

Of course, she was youthful. None of her friends climbed Parrot Gulch with the same speed and tenacity as she did last summer.

Julia’s perspective suddenly changed a few days ago. Now she wished to rid herself of the name she once so thoroughly cherished.

“I’ve had enough,” she said, an automatic door sliding shut behind her. “I can’t deal with this garbage any longer.”

After kicking excess snow off her boot tips onto a welcome mat, Julia unwrapped an earthy brown scarf from her neck and crossed the foyer in long-legged strides to a reception desk anchoring the middle of the room.

“You all have convinced me.” She slapped her hand down on the desk. “I give up. I’m here to make a fresh start.”

The receptionist shrugged and glided her hand across a holoscreen in front of her.

“Change is inevitable. I can squeeze you in to see Dr. Handman at 2:30.”

Julia frowned and gnawed on her lower lip while glancing down at her smartphone. So much for going to see that new art exhibit downtown today. Sacrifices must be made. All this nonsense had to stop.

It all started while catching up with Hannah, her old college roommate, at an impromptu brunch a month ago. They met at a cafe four blocks from Julia’s apartment and dined at an umbrella-shaded table on the outdoor patio. While they were chatting, Hannah flashed a new diamond bracelet her boyfriend had given her.

“He’s spoiling you,” Julia said, adding a laugh. “Skipped right past chocolate and roses.”

Hannah greeted her remark with an eye roll and a sigh.

“Don’t be such a ‘Jealous Julia’,” she said.

Julia gave her a funny look. Strange, humorless response to an obvious joke. But she shrugged it off.

Then the same phrase started popping up everywhere almost overnight. In short videos and memes on social media. In conversations with coworkers, friends, and family. Suddenly, “Jealous Julia” had become an insult that went viral in a heartbeat and spread literally everywhere.

The worst part? So many people who knew her or met her kept trying to get a laugh at Julia’s expense because of her name. Strangers were no better.

Even a cop making a traffic stop.

“You’re named Julia?” a cop remarked to her after glancing at her driver’s license. “So that’s why your eyes are green. Too much jealousy.”

The cop paid more attention to writing up a speeding ticket than taking time to notice Julia’s eyes were light blue. He wasn’t alone. Others cracked the same stupid jokes repeatedly. Of course, recognizing her correct eye color didn’t fit well with their stunted sense of humor. Julia pushed back until she could not tolerate their shit any longer.

The wheels of change were turning now.

No looking back.

Julia waited at the clinic until the appointed time arrived. Dr. Handman asked her all the standard preliminary questions doctors like to ask patients, and seemed polite enough, but she still couldn’t help noticing him smirk at the mention of her name.

After her screening, a nurse led Julia down to a cavernous room resembling a remodeled auditorium. Brightly lit in the center and increasing dimness toward the surrounding walls. A clear, vertical tube occupied the center of the room. It resembled an MRI machine standing on one end, apart from being composed of clear plastic.

Julia’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened.

“What in God’s name is that?”

“You are looking at a cellular reconstruction pod.”

Her head snapped to Dr. Handman. He emerged from an open doorway on the opposite side of the room and walked down a small set of steps toward the machine.

“We call it a CRP for short,” the doctor continued. “Once you are sealed in the chamber, it will rewrite your cells on a nanoscopic level. You’ll feel like a whole new person because you’ll be a whole new person.”

Julia’s heart started to race. She eyed the CRP for a moment and backed closer to the door from where she had entered the cavernous room.

“I don’t … know if …” Her voice faltered. “This seems like an awfully drastic … step.”

“People will still call you by your old name if you have the same face and same body,” Dr. Handman said. “We can eliminate that complication. You won’t just have a new name. Everything about you will be new. A true fresh start.”

A fresh start sounded tempting. Her life before “Jealous Julia” became a thing had been relatively happy. Still, as much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. People would not accept Julia’s new name while seeing her original face. A new body would let her be whoever she wanted to be going forward.

“Let’s do it.” Julia drew in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

The nurse smiled and opened an entry door into the CRP.

“You’ve made the right choice,” she said. “You won’t regret it.”

Julia flashed a nervous smile and stepped inside the vertical tube. The door sealed behind her. A holoscreen flashed in front of her. An electronic voice parceled out instructions, telling Julia to select her name, age, eye color, hair color, skin color, and body type. She hesitated for a moment and then quickly punched in her selections before letting indecision paralyze her.

The tube encasing her immediately turned opaque. Thick mist surrounded her and a series of reddish light beams fell over Julia. They moved from the crown of her head down to her toes. Julia let out several gasps mixed with whimpers. Should rewriting cells sting as much as this did?

But her pain soon vanished almost as quickly as it started. The mist dissipated into nothingness and the plastic grew clear again. The holoscreen reappeared, showing a reminder of her choices.

• Sarah

• 28

• Dark blue

• Raven

• Olive

• Swimsuit model

Julia stepped out of the CRP and laid her eyes on a mirror lowered from the ceiling. She blinked rapidly at the stranger inhabiting her reflection and ran a hand across her new face.

“How do you feel, Sarah?”

Answering Dr. Handman’s question was tricky. All of Sarah’s clothes now felt a little tighter, especially in her chest. She gained at least a cup size in the CRP and would definitely need to buy new bras after she got home. Who programmed this machine? Why did she impulsively select swimsuit model? Nothing was truly wrong with the shape of her body when she used to be Julia. Why did she change it?

No sense second-guessing herself now. Julia was gone forever.

Sarah had taken her place.

“I’m still adjusting,” Sarah said, pressing her hand against her chest and drawing in a sharp breath. “But I do feel like a new woman.”

The doctor smiled and gave an approving nod.

“Your days of dealing with ‘Jealous Julia’ are officially a thing of the past,” he said. “Go enjoy your new life.”

After returning to the waiting area, Sarah donned Julia’s coat and scarf and stepped out of the clinic. She smiled and laughed. For the first time in a month, she felt free. So much earlier unpleasantness washed away like dust amid a gentle rain.

“I feel like celebrating,” she said aloud. “This calls for buying some cute new outfits.”

Sarah instinctively pressed her hand against her mouth, feeling shocked at the words that escaped her lips. Julia never embraced popular fashion trends or indulged in shopping as a hobby like some of her friends did. She had to remind herself again that Julia had left the room for good. Life would take a much different turn for Sarah. She had ideal curves for every pretty skirt and dress which Julia secretly wanted to try out, but worried wouldn’t flatter her.

Sarah pulled away her hand again and smiled.

“This is what I wanted,” she said. “No shame in embracing my upgraded beauty.”

A middle-aged woman passing Sarah on the sidewalk cast a disapproving glance at her and scowled.

“Don’t be such a Shallow Sarah,” she snapped before looking away again

Sarah’s smile instantly melted off her face. She glanced from side to side, checking to see if anyone else heard what the other woman said. A fresh creeping fear spread like a spider web through her rewritten body.

Would she have to go back and select another new name so soon?

Did you enjoy this compelling new sci-fi tale? Browse through other stories in the Strange New Worlds archives and check out my Alien People Chronicles series.

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Life disrupts your plans.

When the calendar turned to June, I planned to celebrate Friday the 13th by treating subscribers of this newsletter to a new, original horror story. Those plans fell by the wayside when I moved to a new house this month. Between packing and unpacking — amid releasing Feral Lands, the new Samak Press horror anthology — whatever time I would have devoted to writing the story slipped from my grasp. The story is only half-finished, and it wouldn’t work to email you all an incomplete story.

What I’ve decided to do instead, is open the Strange New Worlds archives through this weekend and share a few favorite horror stories with you. Many subscribers signed up for this newsletter long after I first published these stories. You may have read a few. Others will be new to you.

Let me know which one is your favorite out of the bunch.

Talia’s Storm

When her mate is slain by greedy fishermen, a mermaid seeks to balance the scales of justice against her human adversaries.

They Lurk

Are monsters only myths? Devin is about to learn the truth firsthand.

Pandora Reborn: Season of the Witch

Before an ancient witch terrorized Deer Falls, she was an innocent maiden in a medieval English village. This is her story.

Yesterday’s Specter

Kirk battles a familiar monstrous foe, and a startling revelation tied to his past.

Beneath a Darkened Reef

Kaia’s first contact with a previously unknown lifeform in the ocean’s depths takes a dark turn.

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The Ghost Diaries is available for 99 cents on Friday the 13th only! Don’t risk being haunted by not reading the best horror comedy tale of 2025.

This sale price is available at exclusively at these retailers:

• Barnes and Noble

• Apple

• Kobo

• Google Play

This is a fictional AP-style news article that’s part of an ongoing flash fiction series detailing the aftermath of an extraterrestrial attack on multiple US cities.

Read the previous stories below to catch up on the narrative so far:

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Deadly clash at Utah street market sparks new calls for extraterrestrial deportations

By: Angie Riggs

World News Daily

PARK CITY, Utah — A verbal altercation between an alien and a human turned deadly, leaving four dead and nine others injured in a Utah resort town on Sunday morning.

The violent clash occurred at a street market in downtown Park City. Witnesses say an alien vendor selling rare stone jewelry at a booth got into a heated argument with a human customer. Their verbal fracas soon escalated into a shoving match when the alien reportedly jumped over a table to attack the human.

Eyewitnesses reported the alien eventually drew a weapon resembling some type of laser pistol and opened fire. He peppered a gathering crowd with acid pellets, sending dozens of bystanders scrambling for cover. The attack ended when a local police officer shot the alien dead.

“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” said Gavin Marsh, a shopper at the street market. “That alien’s weapon burned actual holes into people’s bodies. I don’t want to go shopping ever again.”

Several victims remain in serious or critical condition at a local Park City hospital. The incident has shaken residents of a quiet mountain town mostly known for skiing and hosting Winter Olympics events in 2002 and 2034.

“Our family decided to move up here because it felt like such a peaceful place,” Park City resident Emma Langdon said. “You never imagine these sorts of things can happen in your own backyard.”

The alien/human clash in Park City renewed calls for deportation of extraterrestrials from lawmakers in Washington. Critics of the Federal Alien Resettlement Program said the agency must be held accountable for not doing more thorough background checks and letting violent aliens come to Earth.

FARP, they claim, has lost sight of its original purpose and is welcoming anyone flying a spaceship.

“We need to push back on FARP policies and hold agency leadership accountable,” Utah senator Nephi White said. “This administration has made it clear alien lives are valued more than the lives of Earth-born humans. It shouldn’t be this way.”

Tensions between extraterrestrial refugees and humans have mounted ever since a wave of alien attacks in New York City, Boston, Philadelphia, and Baltimore 16 days ago left more than 40,000 people dead or missing.

White said President Seth Gillman has not done enough to restore law and order in the days following the attacks. Protests and riots have repeatedly flared up in multiple cities from coast to coast, resulting in clashes with local police and millions of dollars in property damage.

“Gillman is sitting in the White House fiddling while Rome burns,” White said. “Who does he think will put out the fire he started?”

Did you enjoy my latest sci-fi tale? Browse through my other short stories in the Strange New Worlds archives and check out my Alien People Chronicles series.

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Editor’s note: In honor of Earth Day, I issued a challenge in this week’s Macabre Monday newsletter for readers to share their best climate fiction (or cli-fi) horror tales. The story below is my own dark postcard fiction (250-word story) tale I created as part of that challenge.

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All the trees and trails were an indistinguishable maze. Sticking near the river offered Colt his most realistic chance to make it back to civilization unscathed.

Churning and bubbling water echoed off the gorge walls. Hopefully, the extra noise would make finding him more difficult. The villagers warned him not to anger Tapio before he dismissed their tales of the forest god as pure nonsense.

“I don’t believe in fairy tales,” he scoffed.

Colt counted himself as a firm believer now.

Tapio singled him out as a trespasser who brought a bow and arrows where they didn't belong. An angry face with a lichen beard and moss eyebrows emerged from the trunk of a silver birch after he released his string.

“Your arrow took a life without my blessing,” Tapio said. “For this sin, you will never lay eyes on your own kind again.”

Colt fled one animal after another the forest god sent forth. Sweat drenched his clothes. His feet and knees ached. Still, he kept moving.

Maybe this was the punishment Tapio intended. Colt would collapse if he kept going at this pace much longer. He needed sleep, water, and food — life’s basic ingredients.

The river pressed southward toward the village. Colt did the same until lungs and legs both surrendered. He staggered to the nearest boulder and collapsed.

A doe and her fawn emerged from a thicket of trees. Two sets of dark eyes pierced him.

Colt never imagined this would be how he’d meet his end.

If you enjoyed this horror story, browse my other short stories in the Strange New Worlds archives. Please check out the Deer Falls horror series as well, available at Amazon and other major booksellers.

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Both wrists ached as though an unseen hammer drove equally invisible nails through each one. Adrian let out a deep sigh and scooted his chair back from the keyboard. He massaged his left wrist with his right hand before switching after a couple of minutes.

“There must be a better way to make a living.”

Adrian spared no effort to find another ghostwriting job that didn’t involve slapping together endless copy for a dentist’s blog in some boring middle America town he’d never find on a map. Resumes sent out to eleven posted job openings last week yielded zero interviews. Not receiving a single follow-up email from a hiring manager stung. Did this mean he’d be condemned to churn out mind-numbing drivel on root canals and gingivitis prevention tips until he expelled his final breath?

Adrian shuddered at the thought.

“I can’t take much more of this.” He cast a rueful glance at a nearby window concealed by shuttered blinds. “I need fresh air.”

A quick stroll through the park across the street would do a world of good. Adrian rose from his office chair in a jerky motion. Stiffness gripped both legs in an invisible vise. Good grief. Just how much time did he spend churning out that last batch of boilerplate blog copy?

Adrian snatched his smart phone up from the desk and swiped the screen.

6:16 pm.

What?

No way did he stay at this shitty office that late. Adrian never let himself lose track of time this bad. Especially on a Friday. He always clocked out no later than 4 pm every Friday without fail.

His eyes fell on an open pizza box atop an adjacent table. Two untouched slices sat inside the box along with a third half-eaten slice. Adrian scrunched his nose and curled his lips into a sour scowl. Dried, wrinkly pepperoni and hardened cheese adorned both slices. It resembled a wax prop adorning the table rather than being a remnant of lunch from a few hours ago.

“Okay.” Adrian’s eyes darted around the room. “This is starting to freak me out.”

Both framed photos had disappeared from their usual corner perch on his desk. Where did they go? What sick bastard would swipe pictures of Mia and the kids? They were his world. His only four reasons for sticking with such a thankless job at Wild Grape Marketing.

Adrian pulled his jacket off the wooden coat rack in the corner and tossed it across his shoulder. He grabbed the doorknob. It refused to budge. Adrian yanked on the knob. The door moved slightly as the knob moved.

His eyes slid down to the doorknob. It was inverted from its normal correct position. The keyhole had been switched and now lay inside the room with him.

Someone had locked Adrian in his office.

“Stone!” Adrian banged his fist on the office door. “Where are you Stoney? This isn’t funny, you dick!”

What an immature dipshit! He obviously didn’t learn his lesson after HR wrote him up for sticking eggs in a bunch of vents last month. Stone acted like a 12-year-old boy forever trapped in a 30-year-old lead content developer’s body. Why did they keep him on staff?

Adrian marched over to his office window and raised the blinds. He gasped. All 23 third-floor cubicles and the carpeting had vanished. A matching blank white wall and floor occupied all visible space on the other side of the door.

Adrian ran his hands through his brown hair and clasped them behind his head. What in God’s name was going on here?

“Simulation L3X-18 is terminated.”

An electronic voice speaking these words echoed throughout the room. The wall directly in front of Adrian faded away like some desert mirage. Two people dressed in strange black uniforms stepped into his office. A skinny woman with tightly cropped blonde hair led the way. A bald man carrying a tablet with an attached stylus followed on her heels.

“This isn’t working.” The woman pushed a pair of wire framed glasses further up her nose. “We need to overhaul the code. Too many glitches are disrupting the simulation.”

She shot a concerned look back at her colleague. He quickly flashed an annoyed frown back at her as he lifted his eyes from the tablet.

“Don’t you think that’s a little drastic?”

She pointed past Adrian’s shoulder at his desk.

“Is it? Photos are there one minute and gone the next. Then the doorknob appears in the wrong direction. We’re talking one flaw after another here.”

“That’s the nature of R&D,” the bald man said. “You’re always ferreting out bugs after the initial design.”

“Well, it’s unacceptable.” Her eyes locked on him again in a firm stare. “We’re running up against a tight deadline here. We can’t move from beta to market if our prototype simulator barely lasts an hour.”

Adrian stared at them wide-eyed, numb with shock and fear. Both of his legs were rooted to the floor. Simulation? Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until a few minutes ago. He drove to the office like he did every morning, kissing Mia on the lips before racing out the door to beat rush hour traffic. The third floor brimmed with all the usual chatter when he first entered the office.

Did he doze off at his laptop while writing? This wouldn’t be the first time he did something so dumb.

“This is all some sort of crazy dream, isn’t it?” Adrian said. “I fell asleep at work and cooked up some oddball fantasy in my head.”

A crease formed in the brow of the blond woman wearing glasses. Her eyes trailed over Adrian and a suspicious scowl sprouted on her lips.

“Power down the simulator.” She raised her voice while refusing to turn away from him. “The termination sequence has a serious glitch.”

“What are you talking about?” Adrian threw out his hands. “Simulator? Glitch? Nothing you’re saying makes any sense.”

Strength laced back through his legs again. Adrian started forward. The blond woman recoiled and raised her hands in a defensive posture.

“Don’t come any closer.” A distinct tremor rippled through her command. “Stay right where you are.”

Adrian licked his lips and swallowed hard. His heart kept beating faster as seconds ticked toward minutes.

“Look, all I want to do is leave and go home,” he said. “Mia will be in my ear if I show up late for dinner again and my kids –”

“Mia?” The bald man carrying the tablet cut him off. “Who in the hell is Mia?”

“My wife.” Adrian’s eyes slid over to him. “I promise I won’t tell either of my supervisors about whatever you’re doing here.”

“Can he leave?”

His eyes shifted back to the blond woman, her index finger sticking out at him. Terror swam through her eyes now. Both were wide as plates.

Their body language and behavior made zero sense.

“We better seal the simulator until we figure this out,” the bald man said. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Need to fix this quick,” she said, turning away. “This shouldn’t be happening. He isn’t a real person.”

Not a real person?

Adrian stood motionless again, his breath drawn away from his lungs like a fresh ocean wave had slapped his face. Both strange visitors fled from his office and the exit vanished behind them only a few seconds later.

He stared at the blank formless wall. Who were these people to tell him he wasn’t real? Mia and their children were real. This job was real. His SUV littered with toys and stray stale French fries was real. That painfully modest paycheck he received each month was real.

Adrian vowed to prove them wrong. Once he left the office, he planned to track down the people clad in the black uniforms and set them straight.

They were going to see irrefutable proof of his reality.

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This is a fictional AP-style news article detailing the aftermath of an extraterrestrial attack on multiple US cities. It serves as a sequel to earlier stories Day One and Day Two.

Read the previous stories below to catch up on the narrative so far:

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Suspected collaborators behind deadly alien attacks on U.S. soil taken into custody

By: Chip Wright

World News Daily

WASHINGTON — Three government officials suspected of collaborating with masterminds behind deadly alien attacks against the United States were arrested and taken into custody by Earth Defense Bureau agents on Friday.

Vincent Grady, assistant director of the Federal Alien Resettlement Program (FARP), was among those arrested. Two other FARP officials, Miranda Cruz and Ben Lofton, were also taken into custody during a raid on a FARP safehouse in eastern Maryland.

President Seth Gillman announced their capture and arrest during a live televised address to the nation.

“Justice for the victims and their families has taken a step forward today,” President Gillman said. “Our nation still faces a long, complicated road to recovery, but we will indeed recover and prosper. Make no mistake. Alien terrorists will not divide us or destroy us.”

Grady, 46, is suspected of using his position at FARP to collaborate with aliens who masterminded a wave of attacks 11 days earlier from mysterious flying spheres on New York City, Boston, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. This was the deadliest attack on the United States in history, leaving more than 40,000 people dead or missing.

Evidence suggests Grady ordered Cruz and Lofton to supply reports to alien terrorist cells that outlined various ways to neutralize planetary defenses and suggested points of attack to inflict the greatest amount of property damage and loss of life.

No clear details on which aliens masterminded the attack on the United States have emerged nearly two weeks later. This has only fueled speculation of aliens being deeply embedded in FARP and other government agencies and using their positions and knowledge to put Earth in jeopardy.

“I can’t sleep at night thinking about everything that’s happened,” Baltimore refugee Liz Sawyer said. “I lost my fiancé, my dog — everything precious to me. Why were any (expletive) aliens allowed to settle on Earth in the first place?”

FARP was originally founded as a government agency under Gillman’s predecessor at the White House, President Aaron Shoemaker, in 2044. White House critics blasted Gillman and Congress for not exercising proper oversight on who staffed the agency.

“Someone dropped the ball along the way, and it cost lives,” said Eva Pinto, director of Earth First Communities — a non-profit organization calling for major reforms of the current White House administration’s alien resettlement policies. “Where were background checks that would have certainly uncovered deep ties between FARP and alien terrorists? This is unacceptable.”

Pinto suggested that Gillman be held accountable for this failure and resign from his office immediately.

“It’s clear he needs to step down,” Pinto said. “We need a leader who prioritizes the safety and welfare of people on Earth over being a mother hen for aliens from distant planets.”

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This seemed like a place no living thing dared call home.

Graffiti plastered the walls inside the classroom from end to end. A dank, sickening aroma invaded her nostrils as soon as Zoe entered through the open doorway. Cracked and broken tiles littered the floor. Discolored water stains scarred exposed sections of subflooring.

“So, why exactly did we come here again?” She crinkled her nose and glanced over her shoulder back at the doorway. “What’s so special about this place?”

Avery cracked a smile and bounced her flashlight beam over to Zoe.

“Every place has a story to tell. You just need to look around and listen.”

Zoe scolded herself internally for expecting anything other than a glib response. Avery eagerly tried to act all cool and modern during her lectures, but Zoe did not function on the same wavelength as her professor. This abandoned school outlived whatever useful purpose it once served. The remains only told one story — a cautionary tale warning bystanders to stay away.

“No one warned me urban exploring would be so gross. OMG! I can’t even.”

Zoe fought back against a sigh trying to escape. Why did Lyla sign up to come out here? She must have known what this project entailed as much as the rest of the group.

Her eyes followed Lyla, who cringed as she gingerly tiptoed around an overturned desk in her path. Cracked wood forming the desktop started rotting and breaking down long ago. Rainwater must have leaked through cracks in the roof. Discolored bubbles dotting the drop tile ceiling supported Zoe’s observation. Some former bubbles exploded at one point, scattering debris over and around other desks strewn about the room.

“Just live stream it on your vlog. Everybody can comment endlessly on how hot you look, you know, like they usually do.”

Spontaneous laughter accompanied the suggestion. Lyla shot eye daggers back at Jaxson as soon as he made his sarcastic remark and let her icy glare linger on him until he clammed up.

“This isn’t ‘Cheerleader Chic’ material,” she said, making a point to name drop her vlog as if any simple mention earned her extra cash from sponsors. “I won’t clutter my channel with this trash.”

Jaxson’s lips contorted while trying to stop himself from laughing again. He failed.

Zoe smirked. His suggestion offered a nice change of direction from the usual fashion nonsense cluttering Lyla’s vlog. She tried watching an episode on two separate occasions. Both times, Zoe clicked away from that insipid channel within five minutes.

“We should all be careful to not draw attention to ourselves in here,” a softer voice pierced the laughter. “Some crazy people could be hiding in here … or something worse.”

Zoe cast a wary glance over at Riley, the last person forming their urban exploration group. She pushed her glasses up along her nose as she walked a pace behind the others. A backpack strap draped over Riley’s shoulder, and she clutched a thick black metal flashlight. Zoe shuddered. The way Riley drew out her last three words sent an extra shiver down her spine. Keeping her eyes from wandering over to shadowy corners was already hard enough. She didn’t need a quiet nerd’s fear stoking the fires of her own imagination.

Avery stopped, turned on her heel, and faced the rest of the group.

“No one is here except everyone in this room,” she said. “Now let’s stay focused on our purpose for being here.”

Avery had briefly discussed their little field trip before everyone piled into the bus and left the UC-San Cristobal campus. She also withheld a few key details from the handout. Now that they were inside the school, Zoe increasingly questioned her professor’s motives for bringing them here. She also worried someone else she trusted should have read over the waiver first before she signed on the dotted line.

What in the hell did an abandoned school in a southside neighborhood have to do with architectural history? Taking on an extra credit project seemed like a solid idea after she bombed the final. Now Zoe wished she had accepted her fate and headed home for Christmas break a couple of days early. Who cares if her grade point average slipped? Did the threat of losing her scholarship merit stumbling around in a dark cavernous building late at night?

Zoe knew the answer, of course, and couldn’t afford to plunge into student loan debt up to her eyeballs just to finish her degree.

Everyone trudged after Avery as she led them out of the classroom and back into the hall. They ducked inside and then hurried out of two other second floor classrooms. Both shared a similar state of disrepair mirroring the first one.

“Are you searching for something specific?” Riley’s anxious tone suggested the same growing worry settled on her as their group trekked further down a darkened hall. “Maybe if we knew what you were looking for, we could help you find it.”

“I’ll know when I see it,” Avery said, without looking back. “And you’ll know when I know.”

They all meandered down a narrow stairwell. Random garbage littered the stairs. Partially crumpled fast food sacks and burger wrappers. Unmistakable evidence revealing other people were here before they showed up. How long ago? Zoe couldn’t judge from discarded wrappers alone. Would they run into other urban explorers? Homeless squatters? Drug dealers?

God, she hoped nobody was still hanging around here, concealed in shadows while watching and waiting to spring out on them like a hungry mountain lion. Even now, Zoe felt more than one pair of invisible eyes tracking her.

The stairwell led back out to the ground floor, on the opposite end from where they started. Rust spotted lockers lined the hall ahead. Some locker doors hung wide open. Others had been broken off at the hinges and lay on the floor. Many intact doors had been bent or twisted. Graffiti covered the lockers. A melting pot of random names and strange symbols.

“Looks like a tornado ripped through here,” Zoe mumbled.

“We don’t get tornados in this part of California.” More unsteadiness laced through Riley’s voice as she offered up an unwanted fact.

Zoe glanced back over her shoulder and flashed an annoyed frown. Didn’t anyone ever tell her no one likes to hang out with a know-it-all?

“No shit, Sherlock,” she snapped. “It’s just an expression.”

Riley dropped her eyes to her feet and fiddled with her backpack strap while mumbling under her breath. Whatever she wanted to say, she lacked a strong enough backbone to say those words aloud. Zoe sighed and refocused her gaze ahead.

“I found it!”

Avery’s excited shout echoed through the empty hall. A flashlight beam bounced along as she sprinted further into the darkness. The others all matched the professor’s pace. In Zoe’s case, she had no desire to be separated from the group in this cavernous tomb of an ex-school.

Their destination ended up being an expansive library. Multiple shelves still stood upright throughout the room. All were virtually barren, aside from a weathered book here and there that no one bothered to pack up or throw away. Avery led the group to a central spot underneath a broken skylight. Glass shards were scattered over faded threadbare carpet. Moonlight spilled from gaping holes in the skylight down to the floor.

Avery called Riley over and motioned for her to unzip her backpack and set it on the ground. The professor approached the open backpack and fished out six medium white candles and a red grill lighter. One by one, she arranged candles in a wide circle under the skylight and lit each wick.

“This feels kind of weird,” Lyla said. “Can you tell me why we’re doing this again?”

Avery stepped out of the circle after lighting the last candle. She drew out a change purse from her own pants pocket and snapped her head over at Lyla. An exasperated frown crossed her lips. Zoe shook her head. Lyla already heard the same explanation as everyone else on the bus and simply chose not to listen.

“Are you not familiar with the symbolism behind the five golden rings?”

Avery meant her question to be rhetorical. She paused only briefly, not long enough for anyone to utter a word, before supplying her own answer.

“They are a symbol of the Torah — divine law,” she said. “A law intended to guide God’s people out of the wilderness.”

“I always thought they were just a cool gift in a Christmas carol,” Jaxson replied.

“No.” Avery turned on her heel and faced him. “The golden rings serve a greater purpose than being a reward for a greedy lover.”

She popped open the snap on the change purse and drew out a small gold-colored band. The ring resembled two interlacing ropes forming a continuous circle in its design. Zoe’s eyes widened when they fell on the piece of jewelry.

“An obscure Scandinavian legend says the golden ring’s essence will guide the one who bears the ring to fulfilling their greatest desire,” Avery said.

“Greatest desire?” Lyla repeated.

“Yes,” she replied. “One only need slip the ring on their finger, stand inside the circle, and recite specific ancient words. Then the ring’s essence will be unlocked and work its deep magic.”

Avery drew out other gold bands from the purse and then tucked it back inside her pocket. She held the rings inside her open palm.

“Five golden rings — one for each of us. We all must choose a ring, slip it on, and step inside the circle.”

Jaxson and Lyla walked forward without hesitation and snatched rings out of Avery’s hand. Zoe exchanged suspicious glances with Riley. This sounded less like an extra credit project and more like cult indoctrination.

“Humor me.” Avery extended her palm toward the girls and drew a couple of steps closer.

Riley shrugged and took a ring.

“Nothing will happen,” she said. “Science leaves no room for magic to exist.”

Zoe stared at the ring after Avery dropped it into her palm. Riley was probably correct to be skeptical about all of this. If magic was real, she would have found evidence by now. Real evidence. Not urban legends shared in podcasts.

Zoe slipped the golden ring on her finger and stepped into the candle circle. Avery smiled, closed her eyelids, and lifted her chin skyward. Her smile seemed off. Cold. Calculating.

Like she had something up her sleeve.

Zoe quietly slid the ring back off her finger as Avery started chanting out a string of words in an unfamiliar language. She dropped the piece of jewelry on the ground next to her foot. When Avery finished her recitation, an ethereal howl ripped through the derelict library.

Ashen mists sprang up and swarmed Riley, Lyla, and Jaxson. Each student let out a pained groan. Groans changed to screams with a spine-chilling suddenness.

Riley tried to rip the ring off her finger. It now glowed and did not budge an inch. Lyla attempted to flee from the room and tripped over a candle. She fell face first on the floor. Jaxson squeezed his hands against both sides of his head as his eyes started to bulge.

Zoe stood frozen, unsure what to do.

Avery also didn’t move. But no trace of fear adorned her face. She stretched out her hands and wore a triumphant grin. Zoe’s eyes were drawn to her ring. It appeared larger than the others and was set with two tiny purple gems resembling eyes.

Why did she not notice this detail before entering the circle?

No time left to scold herself over a lack of foresight. Zoe needed to get the hell out of here before whatever Avery planned unfolded.

Gathering mist acted like a swarm of disembodied insects, stripping away flesh and bone from the three students still wearing their rings. Riley, Jaxson, and Lyla all decayed and withered right before her eyes. Zoe’s heart raced as she watched them die one by one in the most gruesome and frightening way imaginable.

Avery stepped forward and collected each still glowing ring and stuck them inside her change purse. She stopped at Zoe’s ring and snapped her head up at her. Fire filled her light brown eyes.

“What did you do?” The professor’s question hissed from her lips. “No one told you to take that ring off!”

“I’m happy I did,” Zoe said. “What … are you?”

Avery flashed an icy smirk at her.

“Never seen a little witchcraft in action, have you?” she said. “You just had to go and mess everything up. Josiah deserves better.”

“Josiah?”

“I could never love anyone as much as him. We were engaged. Then a drunk driver t-boned his car on the night before Christmas Eve. Stole both our lives in one awful moment.”

Zoe backed up past the candle circle.

“What does that have to do with me?” She swept her arm out toward the decayed remnants of the other students. “Or them? I know I didn’t kill him.”

“No. But your life energy, collected in these rings, will restore Josiah to me. It will bring us back together, once I complete the proper rite.”

Zoe snatched a candle off the floor and stuck it out in front of her like a shield.

“You’re bat-shit crazy. And a murderer.”

Avery scooped up the final ring. It glowed like the others. She clenched her teeth.

“Put the ring on, you little bitch.”

Zoe waved the candle at her and backpedaled further from her reach. Avery lunged forward and knocked the candle out of her hand. She wrestled Zoe to the floor. They became a jumble of arms and legs. Then an ear-piercing scream cut through their skirmish. Zoe ripped herself free of Avery’s grasp and panted hard as she fell back onto the floor.

Avery let out a second, more violent scream. The ring meant for Zoe now rested under the knuckle of her professor’s index finger. Zoe jammed it down on the digit hard enough to make it become stuck. Mists gathered around Avery as she sobbed and clawed at the ring.

Her body succumbed to the same rapid melting decay as her victims.

Zoe gathered up a flashlight and grabbed all five golden rings. Probably best to destroy all this jewelry before someone else followed in Avery’s footsteps later. She wondered how she would explain everything that happened to the bus driver waiting outside.

Check out the Dark Tidings story preceding mine, a tale from inspired by Six Geese a-Laying. Find it here.

Don’t miss the Dark Tidings story after mine, a tale from inspired by Four Calling Birds. Find it here.

Story art by MARK of the BRAND

A special thanks to for inviting me to be part of this storytelling event.

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Nothing good ever came from a pumpkin.

Noah’s lips curdled into an instant sour grimace at the first hint of pumpkin spice. Thanksgiving dinner always turned into a game of subterfuge when his parents dished up slices of pumpkin pie. Noah cut and poked at his slice until he assumed nobody still paid close attention. Then he stuffed mushy remnants inside two napkins and walked the balled-up napkins over to a waiting trash can underneath the kitchen sink when he cleared his plate.

Taking a small slice for the sake of being polite was an acceptable gesture. Noah drew the line at allowing even a morsel of ground pumpkin guts to touch his tongue and slither down his throat.

He stepped out of his SUV and unleashed a contented sigh while pushing the door shut behind him. His vision had come to fruition.

All traces of Hank Bryer’s old pumpkin patch had been erased. Not one misshapen orange weed still cluttered the sprawling lot. Noah convinced the Mount Holly town council to upgrade from pumpkins to a modern mixed-use development. This lot found a second life as a dynamic vehicle supplying a year-round boost to the small Wyoming town’s seasonal economy.

Trading pumpkins for wood, steel, and cement also meant a steady stream of building rental fees flowing into Noah’s business account.

“Such a beautiful sight.” Noah trailed his eyes end to end across the cluster of new buildings dotting the lot. “This has turned out even better than I hoped.”

He paused. His eyes slid back to a street level storefront on the southeast corner. A boutique occupied a building, originally intended to house a sandwich shop. New age lettering and graphics graced the hanging sign out front.

This couldn’t be allowed to stand.

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Noah marched straight up to the door while fumbling for his smartphone in his pocket. This shop owner would be getting a piece of his mind. Sandwich shops brought in revenue. New age nonsense did not. Simple as that. He didn’t want their presence jeopardizing respectable businesses from opening in the development.

A bell chimed above his head when Noah pushed open the door. An odd feeling gripped him as he stepped into the shop. It appeared much darker inside than it did from the outside. Heavy green curtains were drawn on every window except the ones at the front entrance. Stones, crystals, and candles lined assorted shelves.

Noah scowled.

An occult shop? Not on his property.

“Welcome to Uncharted Realms.” A pleasant singsong voice greeted him. “Your guide for spiritual and mystical journeys.”

Noah turned on his heel and came face-to-face with a blue-eyed young woman standing behind the counter. Honey blonde hair cascaded down to her shoulders. A colorful fringe knit sweater wrapped around her black shirt and blue jeans.

“This business wasn’t approved under the terms of the lease,” Noah said, brushing off her friendly demeanor. “I want to speak with the owner.”

Her smile evaporated as she studied him, eyes trailing up his tailored suit.

“I’m Molly.” A smile re-emerged, more forced this time around. “This is my shop.”

“Bad news for you, Molly,” he said. “I’m kicking you out of here for violating the lease agreement you signed.”

Molly held up a hand and stepped out from behind the counter.

“Wait! Can we talk about this?”

“This shop was approved for a quick service restaurant, not occult trash.”

“Occult trash?”

“Your shop will only scare away god-fearing tourists. Customers flush with disposable income.”

Molly answered him with a perturbed frown.  

“Let me show you my books.” She gestured at a door behind the counter bearing an employees only sign. “You’re way off base here.”

Noah shrugged and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. What the hell? He’d humor this girl for a few minutes. See the numbers before sending her packing.

Molly led him into her back office and closed the door behind them. She didn’t click on a light. Darkness blanketed him from all sides.

“Hey! Can you flip on a light switch?” Noah snapped. “I can’t see my own hands.”

A single blob of light pierced the darkened room. Flickering and waving. A sharp aroma from some sort of herb filled the room. Noah scrunched up his nose. More flickers joined the first one, surrounding him on all sides.

Noah’s eyes gradually adjusted to the reduced light. His limbs stiffened and his heart started pounding.

Candle flames revealed assorted shrunken heads lining the walls. All partially cloaked in shadow. Each one wearing a terrified expression.

“Much better,” Molly said. “Now we can talk.”

She stepped away from a nearby candle wearing a satisfied smile.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Noah struggled to mask the tremor in his voice.

“I know exactly who you are,” she said. “I also knew what it would take to lure you here instead of another underling hedging up the way.”

“I’m calling the police.”

“Did you think you would get away with what you did to my grandpa?” she snapped. “Stealing his land? You ruined his life just to fatten your obese wallet!”

Noah’s throat tightened. No one told him Hank Bryer still had relatives living around these parts.

“Grandpa lacked the power to stop an assclown like you.” Molly marched past his shoulder. “But I don’t have the same problem.”

She turned the deadbolt on her office door and wheeled around to face him again.

“Do you know how to shrink a human head?” Molly flashed a wry smile at him. “I’ve got the whole process down to a science. Can’t wait to show you.”

Did you enjoy this spooky horror tale?

Check out the books in my Deer Falls horror series for more terrifying Halloween reads:

• Snow Dragon

• Pandora Reborn

• The Crimson Reaper

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Heavy eyelids were Jenna’s enemy. Sleep did not invite the rest it normally promised. Slumbering only opened a door to a dark path she didn’t want to travel. She had to force herself to stay alert. For her sake. For Samantha’s sake. Simple math summed up their precarious situation.

Staying awake equaled life. Falling asleep equaled a fate worse than death.

Rain battered the diminutive house on all sides in a steady drumbeat. Fierce gusts of howling wind rattled every window and the screen door. A power outage stole all light beyond a steady flicker of candle flames.

Jenna’s eyes trailed over to her friend. Samantha huddled on the floor against the side of the couch. Breaths pierced her lips in shallow gasps. Tears escaped from under pinched eyelids. Jenna also sat on the floor, claiming a spot in front of the couch, with both arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

"We need to be brave and fight this," she said. "I refuse to fall victim to a stupid urban legend.”

Samantha shuddered and cracked open her light brown eyes. Dark circles spread under her lower eyelids. Jenna imagined her own blue eyes appeared equally heavy from their shared drowsiness.

Neither girl slept for a minute since shadow people first appeared almost 24 hours ago.

"I don't know how much longer I can stay awake." Samantha spoke in hushed tones as though fearful of being heard. “We can’t survive without sleep.”

"We won't live unless we stay awake." Jenna's soft voice contrasted with her ominous words. "You know if you drift off, they will take you."

Both girls witnessed the aftermath from seemingly innocuous slumber. Six people sheltered inside the house when violent rainstorms and flooding started pounding their city yesterday. Only two were left.

Samantha dipped her chin to her chest.

“The whispers. I can’t …” She hesitated for a moment and then drew in a sharp breath. “I can't block them out any longer."

Jenna’s frown deepened. A struggle she understood far better than she ever wanted. Their words soothed the soul and felt enticing. Their voices were designed to invite sleep. She had to keep reminding herself that listening to the shadow people is how the others met their end.

"I know." Jenna licked her lips and stared straight ahead at the darkened fireplace. “One whispered to me. Their words make sense. But we can't give in." 

Silence greeted her words.

She immediately cast her eyes back to their former spot. Samantha’s eyelids had fallen shut again. Her breaths were settling into a rhythm consistent with a person slipping and sliding into a deepening slumber.

No! She can’t succumb.

“Wake up!”

Jenna doubled her fist and punched her friend in the arm. Samantha’s eyelids popped open. She unleashed an angry shout and gave Jenna a hard shove.

“That hurt! What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“You can’t leave me here to fight this alone.”

“I’m not doing this on purpose.”

“This is already so hard.”  

“I’m sorry.” Samantha had a defeated look in her light brown eyes. “I can’t force myself to keep staying awake for much longer. No energy drink in the world will change that fact.”

Jenna wanted to curse her friend’s weakness, but she might as well apply the same curse to herself. Her own strength faded as seconds became minutes and minutes became hours. They waged an unwinnable battle against dark entities who owned the upper hand from the start.

None of it seemed fair.

Neither she nor Samantha were responsible for breathing life into this nightmare. David drew a circle, lit candles, and then called forth the shadow people with an incantation. All meant as a twisted joke.

It should have ended there.

It refused to end there.

Six gathered in the room to invite the shadow people to step through the bedroom mirror and enter the real world. David’s laughs soon turned to screams and he got what he deserved. Then three others were also taken in less than 24 hours.

Samantha and Jenna alone had not succumbed.

“Sam, I wish we could erase the past day like it never existed,” Jenna said. “If I had known the truth —”

“What’s done is done.” Samantha said, cutting her off. “I just wish we knew how to send these monsters back to where they belong.”

That summed up a nightmarish dilemma facing both girls. How do you force shadow people to return into a mirror? Failing to find a solution vexed Jenna. Google searches before the power outage — and before their phone batteries died — uncovered no useful answers for undoing the curse they invited.

Applying brute force didn’t work.

Taylor grappled with one until she shattered. Each remnant shard of Taylor then melted into the floor and vanished. No stains or residue remained behind.

Jenna’s eyes grew heavy again. She blinked forcefully to try to keep them open. Samantha crawled around to the front of the couch. She drew Jenna into her arms and caressed her honey blonde hair as they cuddled tight. A moment she dreamed would happen with Samantha but never dared bring into existence. Jenna smiled, tilted her head, closed her eyes, and puckered her lips.

At once, her eyes snapped open. Samantha remained in her former spot against the side of the couch. Head hanging down. Eyelids shut.

Oh God.

We both fell asleep.

Jenna’s breaths escaped from her lips in shallow bursts. She ran both hands through her hair and locked fingers behind her neck. Sleep overtook her only for the briefest moment. Maybe if Jenna forced herself to stay awake until the storm finally broke, it would be enough.

A chance to test her theory never materialized.

Shadows writhed and twisted in the far corners of the room beyond the reach of candlelight. A ripping sound greeted Jenna’s ears. She clenched her teeth. The house itself seemed to tear like a sheet of paper, leaving a giant gash in the air running from the living room ceiling fan down to the area rug in front of the couch. A violent green light emerged from the gash and bathed the entire room.

One shadowy figure stepped out of the gash. Tall and gaunt. Much more than a normal human. A bowler hat adorned their head. Both oval eyes glowed with an eerie hue matching the other light.

Jenna’s heart raced and her lips trembled. She wanted nothing more than to leap to her feet, grab Samantha, and flee to a different room in a different house in a different city. Travel advisories and storm warnings be damned. All four limbs were frozen. Flesh covered paperweights. Leaving her powerless to do nothing except stare at the dark entity drawing closer.

A long arm stretched out toward Jenna. Long spindly fingers poked through holes cut into a cotton glove adorning their hand.

“Sleep is good. Rest is paradise.”

The whispers inside Jenna’s head turned audible. No visible mouth revealed itself on the shadow person’s face. How did they speak?

The air grew heavier and thicker around Jenna. Pelting raindrops and distant random thunderclaps faded into the background like ambient white noise.

Samantha let out a violent groan. Jenna snapped her head over to the side of the couch again. Her friend’s skinny limbs contorted and flailed as a second shadow person jerked her body straight off the floor. Jenna turned away again and dipped her chin as tears trickled down her cheeks, unable to watch Samantha succumb to the same dark fate which the others met. A fate now waiting to also stake a claim on her.

Sleep is good and rest is paradise.

For shadow people who abduct humans and claim their souls.    

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Investigating the derelict space station only raised additional questions instead of supplying answers. Violet stared down a darkened empty corridor. Her helmet light illuminated her ebony face as her brown eyes settled on a sea of shadows. Infrared scans uncovered no trace of life on this level. Questions swarmed her mind as Violet exited the docking bay.

Who built the station?

What purpose did it serve?

Why did the builders abandon their creation?

“A passing star must have jettisoned this planet from an alien solar system.”

Violet snapped her head back at Nate. He shone a flashlight on a drab gray corridor wall behind her.

“That's the only logical explanation,” he continued. “How would anyone know where to find this planet? And why build a space station above a cold dead world wandering through deep space?”

Violet shrugged.

“Maybe alien explorers came here long ago to study this planet. We found it easily enough.”

Nate cracked a knowing smile. His sky-blue eyes sparkled under his helmet light.

“Your definition of easy doesn’t match mine. Finding a planet and a space station out here is a one-in-a-trillion cosmic fluke.”

“Fluke?”

 “Our ship blundered right into its path.”

Violet turned away and pursed her lips. Nate made a valid point. Stumbling upon a rogue planet wandering beyond the outer reaches of their solar system amounted to a giant stroke of luck. The same held true with their nava sensors even detecting an anomaly moving parallel to their hyperlight path. Violet still hadn’t made up her mind if their discovery fell on the good end or the bad end of that luck spectrum.

Earth established thriving colonies on 13 exoplanets since first settling on Colonia nearly six decades earlier. Even with so much exploration preceding these colonizing expeditions, their little corner of the Milky Way Galaxy still harbored countless mysteries. To her knowledge, no other Earthian encountered a planet not bound to a specific star before she and Nate uncovered this one.

Cubic lights sprang to life along both walls as they moved deeper into the corridor. Each shoulder-high light appeared no larger than a navel orange and bathed the corridor in a dim pale-yellow hue. Violet turned and shot a worried glance at Nate.

“Did we trigger a hidden motion sensor?” She worked to conceal the tremor seeping into her voice. “This is kind of creepy.”

Nate’s eyes darted from wall to wall, and he answered her with a reluctant nod.

“You’re telling me. How does this station still generate enough power to operate lights?”

Violet refocused her gaze on the section of corridor ahead of her and squinted at the dull lights.

“Some form of nuclear energy is my first guess.” She cast her eyes at the ceiling and studied twin columns of giant hexagonal paneling crossing over her head. “You’d need a power source with a half-life that’s off the charts for this station to still function while wandering in interstellar space for God knows how long.”

Ventilation shafts carved out of random gray hexagon panels circulated breathable atmosphere throughout the corridor. At least that’s what environmental readings on Violet’s helmet visor indicated. It had to be a mistake. Neither she nor Nate picked up life signs when they boarded the station. Any oxygenated air inside this station should have been depleted soon after it entered deep space traveling at subluminal speeds.

They reached a sealed box-shaped door at the end of the corridor. Nate unholstered his handheld scanner and started running fresh infrared scans. Violet shone a flashlight on the door, trailing the beam around the perimeter while she searched for a control switch or access panel.

An electronic voice called out to them with startling abruptness. She recoiled and backpedaled a few steps. None of the words emanating from some sort of unseen computer sounded familiar. An alien language in every sense.

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Nobody ever spends a night alone in the Mulberry House without losing something precious.

Stephanie laughed at everyone who shared that warning with her and cracked a joke about finding a room filled with missing wallets and jewelry. Some people took these urban legends far too seriously. The Mulberry House was no different than any old mansion in this part of San Cristobal.

She aimed to offer definitive proof of that fact.

Wood creaked under her feet as she climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. Dull light from antique candle holders lit the hall in a shadowy yellow hue. Spending the night with only a wireless power bank as her lone power source was inconvenient. Still, Stephanie was determined to tough it out for one night.

Her bet with Kayla was already as good as won. Plus, she'd knock out a cool debunking video to post to her YouTube channel along the way. Kayla would be eating crow in supersized portions by this time tomorrow.

The master bedroom was smaller than Stephanie imagined it'd be. When she turned the copper knob, the door swung open to reveal a cramped windowless room. A musty aroma greeted her nostrils. Multiple portraits adorned the walls. Shadows cloaked all the paintings. Outlines revealed people, but darkness mostly obscured details of their faces and clothing.

“I wonder who left all these paintings here.” Stephanie cast her eyes around the room. “Seems like a random thing to find in an abandoned mansion.”

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(Narrator)

“Historians uncovered disturbing new evidence shedding light on what happened in Hamishton in December of 1899. An unfinished letter found on a table inside one crumbling abandoned home hints at a terrifying ordeal. Details are scarce, but it suggests that every resident of the tiny New England village vanished without a trace.

We’ve reproduced the letter’s contents for our viewers to let you judge for yourself what happened in Hamishton.”

Dearest Victoria,

I do not know when or how this letter shall reach your hand. I only beseech the heavens for a miracle wherein you may yet read these words and know that you were indeed near to my soul in this desperate hour.

Oil diminishes in my lamp and the flickering flame wanes. Yet I press forward knowing my time is limited before my voice is silenced. Oh, that I had listened to that medium in the day of my folly! Alas, I played the part of a fool.

The Suff, she told me, must not be trifled with. Do not invite his rage to settle upon your home. The Suff will infest your mind. The Suff will steal your soul.

I dismissed Madam Chovsky's warnings as a charlatan's ramblings. A mere old wives' tale meant to scare the foolish and drum up business for the cunning. How foolish to ignore the dangers before my eyes.

All have vanished, dearest Victoria. Shambled off into the darkest woods. Pairs of vacant eyes drawn away to a dark fate. The carolers have fallen silent. Our village belongs to the ghosts now.

Hamishton is but a forgotten memory.

Sweet Victoria! How I yearn for your warm, tender embrace. Please know that I made this choice out of concern for your welfare.

The Suff must not ...

(Narrator)

“The letter cuts off mid-sentence, leaving the author’s fate unknown. Attempts to identify either the author or the woman to whom it the letter addressed have proven unsuccessful to date.

Why did 200 people walk away from Hamishton never to be seen or heard from again? How does their disappearance relate to the Suff? Multiple theories have arisen to explain what happened in the tiny New England village. True answers to those questions still elude us. We only know that the Hamishton Letter truly remains one of history’s greatest mysteries.”

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This is a fictional AP-style news article detailing the aftermath of an extraterrestrial attack on multiple US cities. It serves as a sequel to my earlier story Day One. Enjoy!

Dozens arrested in Philadelphia after clashes with police following deadly alien attacks

By: Cole Ashford

World News Daily

PHILADELPHIA — Hundreds of protesters clashed with police officers on Chestnut Street in Philadelphia on Tuesday evening, leading to mass arrests one day after extraterrestrial attacks claimed tens of thousands of lives in the deadliest attack on the United States in history.

Philadelphia was one of four cities — along with New York City, Boston, and Baltimore — besieged by hundreds of metallic extraterrestrial spheres on Monday afternoon. Energy weapons fire from the swarming spheres reduced large sections of each city to rubble. New reports moved the official death toll in the four cities up to 27, 972 as first responders continued their search for survivors. Tens of thousands of other residents suffered serious injuries or are reported missing.

Aerial bombardment from the spheres left many neighborhoods in Central City and South Philadelphia in ruins. Approximately two million Philadelphia residents are still without power or running water in their homes more than 24 hours after the attacks first began. Temperatures hovered in the mid-90s into late Tuesday afternoon.

Protesters marched down Chestnut Street, going from City Center to Penn's Landing, demanding action from city leaders. Violent skirmishes broke out when the crowd ignored orders to disperse and return to their homes. Dozens of people were arrested. Police officers fired tear gas into the crowd to chase away the remaining protesters.

The White House was swift to condemn “lawless actions” by the protesters.

“Panic and violence are never the answer,” White House Press Secretary Greta Monroe said. “President Gillman is working closely with officials in all affected cities to restore basic services as quickly and efficiently as possible. This alien incursion has shattered many lives, but we must not let it divide us as a nation.”

President Gillman was not made available to speak with reporters. The President, his family, and his cabinet remain hidden inside a secure bunker in an undisclosed location following the alien attacks.

Protests also erupted in dozens of other cities nationwide as panicked Americans demanded answers from government officials. Many experts fear what happened on Monday is only a precursor to a much deadlier conflict ahead.

“We don't know who did this to us or why they attacked Earth,” said Myron Osgood, Chair of Exoplanetary Studies at Villanova University. “You can't blame people for lashing out. You can’t blame them feeling angry and scared after seeing their leaders do nothing to protect this planet or its people.”

White House critics point to off-world activities of the Earth Defense Bureau that are alleged to have played a key role in Monday’s attacks. Critics believe the EDB has strayed far from its original purpose of providing planetary defense. Drew Jenkins, a former high-level bureau official turned whistleblower, alleged in an exclusive video interview with World News Daily that the White House sent billions of dollars in military aid to a distant exoplanet six months before the attacks. This extensive aid package, according to Jenkins, was sent to an Earth colony orbiting Alpha Centauri B and then rerouted to alien insurgents working to topple a dictator on a completely different planet located 11.4 light years from Earth.

“Interfering in another planet's internal conflicts only opens a door for Earth to suffer reprisals from advanced alien races,” Jenkins said. “It's a damn shame our government refuses to see or acknowledge the veracity of this scenario and now we’re suffering from their incompetence.”

Strict mandatory curfews have been instituted in numerous cities from coast to coast to prevent protests and riots from intensifying in the aftermath of the alien attacks.

World News Daily’s Washington correspondent Chip Wright contributed to this report.

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Mitch glared at the blank laptop screen and slammed down his fist on the desk.

Ten minutes later and not a single word had migrated from his head to the screen. What the hell? It shouldn’t be this hard to write a novel. Two weeks into November and zero progress. He’d never come close to winning that bet with his NaNoWriMo group at this rate.

“Maybe if I browse Google for a minute, I can find some inspiration,” Mitch told himself while unloading a frustrated sigh.

He pulled up the search engine’s home page and clicked on the “I’m feeling lucky” button. A series of photos and articles on the Orion Nebula popped up in the results.

Wonderful. Even Google refused to help break his writer’s block.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Mitch threw his hands up above his head. “How can you write a story about a stinking nebula? Thanks for nothing, Google!”

Maybe it was time to set this project aside and browse through the latest funny cat videos. Mitch needed a quick laugh after enduring all this stress and torment. How did all those literary greats survive without access to the antics of furry felines from around the world?

He clicked on a bookmarked page featuring all the latest popular cat videos. Mitch scrolled through the feed. Watched that one already. And that one. And that one. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips. Is it too much to ask for these influencers to get on the stick and upload a new video each day? He needed his fix.

Soon, one of those annoying sponsored ads popped up on his feed. This one featured a new trailer for an upcoming movie: The Three Musketeers vs. Dracula.

“All for one and one for all in the battle against evil,” Mitch said, repeating the movie’s tag line.

That’s it. Pure genius.

Mitch had been making this way too hard on himself. Tons of public domain characters available to pluck and drop into a story. Why didn’t he think of this sooner?

This bet was as good as won.

Mitch grabbed a pen and a yellow legal notepad next to his laptop and scribbled furiously. The ideas rushed out of his head like a river engorged with spring runoff.

Snow White, Cinderella, and Rapunzel band together to form an elite group of assassins-for-hire. They infiltrate kingdoms and overthrow wicked rulers for a princely sum. Of course, the story needed to include a cool training montage where the three women master various forms of martial arts under the tutelage of a wise dragon. Then, later, they meet their greatest test when Zeus and his fellow Olympian gods descend in their chariots to challenge the growing power of the trio.

Perfect!

Wait.

What if Zeus and the other gods were ancient aliens and their “chariots” were actually UFOs? Oh yeah, then Snow White, Cinderella, and Rapunzel go enlist the services of Leonardo Da Vinci to rig up some cool inventions to combat the alien invaders. Mitch remembered he invented the Da Vinci Code or something like that, so he’d be a good inclusion in the narrative.

This train left the station and ran at full speed now.

Mitch’s writer block vanished faster than dew from grass after sunrise. He cranked out thousands of words from one day to the next ahead of his NaNoWriMo group’s next meeting. The finished draft would blow their minds.

Until it didn’t.

“This is unoriginal trash. You lost the bet. Pay up.”

Lizzy’s whiny voice grated on his nerves more than usual. Who appointed her head of their writing group anyway? Selling 10 copies of a self-published memoir about being raised by mountain goats didn’t make her an expert in storytelling.

“I won,” Mitch insisted. “You bet a $50 Starbucks gift card I couldn’t write an original 50k novel. I did it. Now give me the gift card, so I can use it on my morning coffee.”

The other three writers seated around the table gave him incredulous looks and shook their heads.

“Dude, this story has already been done,” Garth said. “It’s just a lame rip-off of Excalibur in Sherwood.”

“They’re nothing alike,” Mitch replied.

Winter rolled her eyes and pushed her orange-rimmed glasses up along the bridge of her nose.

“Let’s compare, shall we?” she said. “You have Snow White, Rapunzel, and Cinderella fighting invading space aliens disguised as gods. In Excalibur in Sherwood, King Arthur and Robin Hood form an alliance to fight time-traveling cyborgs disguised as wizards attempting to install the Sherriff of Nottingham as the ruler of England.”

“It’s practically the same story!” Lizzy said.

“Maybe next time, throw something original in there like vampires or zombies,” Garth added. “Or a shifter romance subplot with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

Mitch sunk down into his chair and sulked. How could he enjoy his mocha latte now? Vampires? Zombies? Shifters? Bleh.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

How about time-traveling zombies? Perfect. Red Riding-Hood, the Big Bad Wolf, and Grandma must band together and make a final stand at Grandma’s house to stop the zombie horde from destroying the future.

Mitch’s frown snapped to a widening grin. That free coffee would belong to him alone soon enough.

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Lots of fascinating lore has unfolded on Substack concerning the Suff over the past few days. What is this primordial force of nature that inspires such fear across time and space with many people in many places?

This new flash fiction story, The Tablet, offers a new glimpse into a monstrous being with ancient roots.

Deciding where vines ended and stones began proved almost impossible.

Hugh and his team took a crack at uncovering an entrance anyway. Finding an undisturbed ancient temple in the depths of the Amazon rainforest didn't happen every day. The artifacts hidden away in a place like this would be priceless. What stories would they tell? How would these discoveries change what they knew concerning the history of this region?

Extensive surveys and foliage removal finally uncovered a set of stairs leading to a gate. Hugh took the lead in opening the gate and journeying into an ante chamber. Smothering darkness permeated the chamber from ceiling to floor, only broken by pale flashlight beams. One beam fell on a sand-colored stone tablet. Black lettering was etched on its surface.

“I wonder what language this is.” a breathless voice called out behind his shoulder.

Hugh snapped his head at Kayla and shrugged. It didn't resemble any of the written languages from known ancient civilizations in Latin America. He crouched down and snatched the tablet off the damp stone floor to get a closer look.

Hieroglyphic symbols coalesced before his eyes into English words. Hugh drew a sharp breath and nearly let the tablet tumble out of his hands.

“What is it?” Kayla asked. “What's wrong?”

“I can read the … words.” Hesitation marked Hugh's voice. “They changed … to English.”

“That's not possible,” she replied. Kayla's flashlight beam bounced away from him. “We need to leave this chamber. There might be a toxic gas or something like that in here.”

Hugh shook his head. Maybe it was only his imagination, or a gas-induced hallucination, as his colleague suggested. He rose to as much of a standing position as the chamber would allow again. His back was partially stooped because of the low ceiling. Hugh turned and followed Kayla back out of the chamber.

Now exposed to sunlight, the lettering remained unchanged. It contained a peculiar and ominous message.

Chaos has chosen a form
Pure darkness
fills an ethereal frame.
One haunting name
embodies endless terror.

The Suff.

Hide your face.
Flee for your life.
The Suff embraces
with all-ecompassing arms.

His piercing black eyes
swallow your soul
He burrows into your mind
like an ant or worm.

The Suff.

Once inside his grasp,
you become one mind.
Your will bends
Your identity ends.
Only one remains.

The Suff.

Hugh furrowed his brow and shot a puzzled frown at Kayla after reading the words aloud. Tangible fear filled her widening eyes.

“You shouldn't have read that,” she said.

A breeze-like chill brushed against the inside of Hugh's skin. Four words pierced his ears like a quartet of blades with a scratchy whisper.

“You are now mine.”

Despair gripped Hugh. Kayla was right. He shouldn't have read the tablet.

Did you enjoy my latest terrifying tale? Check out my other short stories in the Strange New Worlds archives. You can also order your copy of, Snow Dragon, my new horror novella that’s now available in eBook and paperback editions at major booksellers worldwide.

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I have a special Halloween treat for readers of this newsletter.

Recently, I entered a story in the first ever Wicked Writing contest put together by and on the official Macabre Monday newsletter. I deeply appreciate the time and energy they put into bringing the contest to life. My story ultimately earned second place, finishing behind Rare Dawn, a haunting tale you can read in the latest newsletter.

And now for our featured presentation, I give you that second place story for the first time: The Job Interview

This had to be the wrong place.

Chris double checked the address he typed into the map app on his smartphone. He glanced back up at the number above the door.

616.

No, he had the right number. 616 Market Street. Still, his destination did not match his expectations based on what he read and saw online.

A nondescript brown brick building. Windows flanked both sides of a heavy white wooden door. Drawn blinds shut out sunlight and concealed whatever lay inside from prying eyes. No sign hung above the door.

Maybe interviewing to be a content writer for Wild Grape Marketing wasn't such a hot idea after all. If this building truly housed their home office, it sent the wrong message about the company's approach to marketing.

“What kind of fishy fly-by-night company is this?” Chris wondered aloud.

He stuffed his phone back inside his jacket and shifted a navy-blue folder to his other hand. The folder held an up-to-date resume. Chris spent an entire evening ironing out the details after reading various articles that offered resume-writing tips. He ran his hand through his light brown hair, stepped up to the door, and twisted the knob.

A hinge creaked as Chris pushed the door open. Darkness and emptiness swallowed everything in front of him. Outside sunlight flooded past his shoulders and soon revealed an empty waiting room. His eyes settled on a single couch covered in rough brown fabric. The couch faced a bland white round table decorated with three random magazines. Across from the office furniture stood a second door.

“Hello?”

Silence greeted his question. Chris stepped through the open doorway and surveyed the cramped room. Nothing beyond the minimal decor caught his eye. No signs of human activity.

“Hello?” he repeated. “Is anyone here?”

Chris approached the second door and knocked. An echo of his knuckles banging against wood bounced back to him. He scrunched up his eyes and nose and let loose a confused sigh.

“Is this a prank?” Chris glanced back at the open door behind him. “Am I being punked?”

Did someone post a fake job at Wild Grape Marketing on the job board? Wouldn't be unprecedented for some anonymous jerk to pull that trick. Too many trolls out there with too much time on their hands.

Chris tested the doorknob.

Unlocked.

He pushed the door open and poked his head through the doorway. It led into a darkened hall. Chris paused. Should he go inside? If someone lurked around in the hall, they were doing a good job of hiding from him.

“I'm here for the job interview,” Chris called out as he stepped through the doorway. “Is anyone here?”

Hinges creaked.

Two doors slammed.

Darkness deepened into a thick shadowy soup. Chris jumped and wheeled around. The folder holding his resume tumbled from his hand to a floor covered in rough tawny carpet. He tried the knob on the second door again.

Locked.

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Ben snickered at the message alert that popped up on his smartphone.

The Universe followed you.

“The whole universe is following me, huh?” he said. “I guess I’m a celebrity now.”

His eyes darted from side to side, hoping someone else enjoyed his joke as much as he did. A couple strolled past him on the sidewalk. They held hands and chit chatted with one another as though Ben didn’t exist. Whatever. No sense wasting his humor on these ungrateful strangers.

A breeze swept an extra autumn chill against his cheeks. Colorful leaves rustled on overhanging branches. Ben tugged on the scarf circling his neck and cinched it tighter. Streetlamps cast a dull glow on the sidewalk and on the front steps leading to his townhouse.

His phone pinged again. A new message alert.

The Universe is still following you.

Okay, that’s weird. Whoever designed this app has an odd sense of humor. Ben shook his head. He heard strange rumors about Ubique before opening an account. Maybe it earned such a reputation for a good reason.

Ben fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. Another ping greeted his ears.

The Universe is angry with you.

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I wanted to conduct a little experiment with my latest flash fiction story. This story chronicles an alien attack through the lens of a fictional AP-style news report. Enjoy!

Alien spheres level four major U.S. Cities, thousands feared dead or missing

By: Chip Wright,

World News Daily

WASHINGTON — Mysterious extraterrestrial spheres carved a simultaneous path of destruction through four major cities on Monday in the deadliest attack on the United States in history, leaving tens of thousands dead or missing and sparking civil unrest nationwide.

The attacks began when hundreds of spheres blanketed skies over New York City, Baltimore, Boston, and Philadelphia shortly before 4 pm EST. Witnesses described the spheres as metallic in appearance and noted they were roughly the same size as a basketball. Spheres started glowing and opened fire only a few seconds later, toppling skyscrapers and setting vehicles aflame during a relentless aerial bombardment.

Individual spheres changed direction and tracked fleeing individuals, executing them with unidentified energy weapons as they ran for cover.

"It was so awful," said Bonnie Greer, a teary-eyed Baltimore resident. "People up and down the street were blasted apart before my eyes."

Survivors took refuge in local parks and under overpasses and bridges while trying to escape the onslaught. Bombardment lasted for approximately an hour before finally ceasing. First responders are combing through rubble in affected cities but have only scratched the surface with locating dead or injured residents.

Early reports from New York City, Boston, Baltimore, and Philadelphia estimate a combined 20,000 dead in those cities from the first wave of attacks. The number of casualties is expected to rise dramatically over the next few hours as first responders recover more bodies while continuing to sift through rubble.

Chaos has broken out nationwide in the wake of the deadly aerial attacks. Reports of looting at supermarkets and convenience stores, coupled with skirmishes with local law enforcement, are prevalent from coast to coast. Traffic accidents have also spiked as terrified residents flee out of cities.

President Gillman urged calm in a special address to the nation from a secure bunker in an undisclosed location on Monday night.

"We need to stay in our homes and care for our families," the President said. "Panic is not a solution. Only steadfast faith and unwavering courage will help us stand against this threat and see our nation through this temporary crisis."

White House critics called the President's comments aloof, and patronizing, given the harmful role his policies played in allowing the attacks to occur. They pointed to recent spending reduction measures as a short-sighted decision which left the Earth Defense Bureau ill equipped to prevent a fleet of mysterious spheres from breaking through planetary defenses.

Now fear is widespread that more attacks are coming, putting millions of additional lives at stake.

“We need answers that will save lives,” House Speaker Skip Bonner said. “The president needs to stop worrying about propping up his falling poll numbers and take real bipartisan action to neutralize this alien threat.”

Did you enjoy this sci-fi tale? Browse through other stories at Strange New Worlds and check out my Alien People Chronicles series.

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