Joel Caffey

Sean King

Kara S

Sunny Anomaly

Tracie+L Mauriello

The boy suddenly woke up on the shores of a beach. Bitter cold and the familiar stench of coastal decay overtook him. The deafening cawing of seagulls and distant sirens clouded his mind. "I have to get back..", he grunted while trying to get to his feet..

Only to discover he had eight pointy feet, which he promptly tripped over. He raised his hands to see two claws. His new crab body wasn’t all bad: he could look in all directions, at least.

But on the other hand, it meant that he wasn't on the top of the food chain anymore. His exoskeleton clattered in a shiver as a heron stabbed another crab next to him and swooped away. Gagging at the splattered remains on his face, he started scuttling away. He had to hide. But w

was a very watchful heron, hence the nickname “W.” Even if you thought he couldn’t see you, he almost certainly could. And this was why the crab needed a very clever hiding place. It needed to be somewhat camouflage, but being out of reach would be even better. Perhaps both, if

only there were more seaweed in this part of the ocean. Instead the crab made do with what he found — Reese’s wrapper, a used condom and a Coke can discarded by the planet’s most disgusting inhabitants. For once, something good would come of human disregard for the environment.

The crab fashioned the trash into something resembling a shell. A shell different than any other. The crab was safe for a time before it was gone. As the ocean sank away and the last of the moving things moved, there sat the shell, different than any other.

A Shell Unlike Any Other

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KW Taylor

Sam Becker

“Please don’t hurt me...” Kay was curled up into a ball, her arms over her face. In the dark she couldn’t see who was there. “No, stop!” she cried as the footsteps drew closer. Just then, she felt a warm hand touch her forearm and she squealed in terror. 
“Shhh,” someone hushed.

"Kay, it's me..", whispered a still voice from the black. "I think I know a way out from here but we'll have to keep quiet so they won't hear us."

“Follow the sound of my footsteps”, whispered the voice, “and be as quiet as possible.” That’s when I couldn’t stop myself and let out a high-decibel sneeze.

"Really? Right when I warn you?" The voice sounded less like the mysterious guide that often appeared in stories as annoyance crept into its existence. "Come on, we haven't much time. But quiet!" The footsteps accompanying the voice resumed their cadence as we crept through the d

dimly lit hallway and out a door into a backyard. Silver moonlight streamed down and illuminated scraggly bushes and a few shabby pieces of patio furniture ringing a firepit, where the last embers of a burning log smoldered. A figure sat in a folding chair, long fingers around a

clipboard. “We’ve been expecting you,” the shadowy figure declared, leafing through its pages. “Take a seat.” It gestured toward chairs shrouded in darkness. The guests sat, eventually realizing their seats were occupied by sharp, brittle limbs cracking loudly under their weight.

A Voice In The Dark

Zoe Becker

Jerry glanced down at the photograph in his hand, then back up again at the woman sitting alone at the back of the cafe.

Nervously, he checked the photograph one more time. Yet when went to look at the woman again, she wasn't there.

All at once a blinding light coursed through the space. Jerry and the woman froze. And then a creature appeared, seemingly from the air itself.

It was Jerry's pet turtle from when he was 17. "Don't do it, Jerry. Not worth it."
Jerry promptly stood up and left the coffee shop, never to do LSD again.

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