Author: CuongC Mr

The metal was so hot it burned through the knees of his jeans. He could smell the gasoline dripping onto the scorched earth, ticking like a clock winding down to zero. “You gotta get out of here, boy.” The woman’s voice was nothing but gravel and blood. Her eyes were half-closed, staring at the crushed…

The air in the shop was thick as molasses, heavy with the smell of old paper and the low hum of a box fan fighting a losing battle against the Illinois heat. I was marking down a box of glassware that nobody wanted when the door chimed. He walked in like he was expecting the…

The sliding glass doors of the ambulance bay blew open with a violent, pneumatic hiss, letting in a blast of freezing January air that cut right through my scrubs. I stood rigid behind the central nurses’ station, my badge hanging heavy against my chest—Dr. Irene Ulette, Chief of Trauma Surgery. I had seen a thousand…

“Engine off, sir!” My voice cut through the cold November wind like it had a thousand times before. Out here on the shoulder of I-71, the headlights of the semi-trucks blurred past us in a wet smear of white and amber. The man in the beat-up sedan didn’t roll down his window. He just sat…

The register drawer slammed shut with a sound like a jail cell closing. —Ryan. Aisle seven. Cleanup. That was Janice on the intercom. She didn’t say please. She never did. I looked down at my hands, stained with the dust of a thousand price tags, and I felt the weight of nineteen years settle into…

The first thing you need to know is that Jasper hadn’t eaten in eleven days. Not a single bite. The vet techs whispered the word “fade” under their breath like it was a curse they didn’t want the other dogs to hear. But I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Arthur Callahan. I’m eighty-two,…

The varnish on the gym floor was sticky beneath my sneakers, and the air smelled like burnt popcorn and cheap perfume. I shouldn’t have come. That’s all I could think as I watched Mia twirl with her dad by the bleachers. Her pink dress puffed out like a cloud. He was laughing, dipping her low…

Part 1: The Weight of the Receiver The air in the Iron Ravens clubhouse was thick enough to choke on. It always smelled like a mix of burnt motor oil, worn saddle leather, and the cheap incense we lit to mask the ghost of last week’s spilled whiskey. It was a smell that meant home,…

The wind wasn’t howling anymore. It was screaming. I couldn’t feel my toes. Hadn’t felt them since the sun went down—or maybe it was coming up? In a blizzard like this, Ohio forgot what time was. The rope of the sled cut into my palm through a mitten that was more ice than fabric. Mr….

Part 1 — The Morning After The sound of Lila’s footsteps coming down the stairs was wrong. She usually stomped. She usually sang some off-key song she learned on a tablet. This morning, there was just the slow drag of her sneaker against the wood, like she was trying not to exist. I was at…