Spilled my bottle of milk,

Wait, no, that’s vodka,

Or is it? Something of that ilk.

Since when did I drink vodka?

I stand up, covered in the “milk”

And I vomit. Okay, it’s vodka.

My head is dizzy, and a book in on my pillow.

The Bible? A book I have never read.

And why is it on my pillow?

My pillow is for my dizzy head!

And my dizzy head does hit the Bible, pillow,

Is that something red?

My eyes...

“Hey roomie, you ready for…” Gordon paused in the doorway looking in at the mess. “Whoa… What happened here?”

Freddy scratched his head. He felt a bump. “Ooh. That hurts.”

“Your head?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a big bump there.”

Gordon stepped into the room. Then, he stepped away from where he had just stepped. “Ugh. What’s that?” They both looked and saw a dark spot on the rug. There was a...

I stretch, pulling my arms behind my head and dropping my head to my knees, as I step from my bed. It’s the first thing I do every morning. Have for years. Makes me feel ready for the day. My days are organized, routine. I can already sense something is off this morning. As I walk into the living room, I can see why.

Three objects are on my dining room table: a glass bottle of milk, gone warm; a...

I woke up. Sitting next to me was a bible. It was burnt and torn. Runes were written in to it, I assumed, by me. Next to it was the shambles of a bottle that once held milk. Its edges were burnished with flicks of blood, drying. Sitting in front of my was a collection of humans. Their remains were scattered about in the shape of a tire. Everything felt wrong. I satred in horror, my hand lifting to...

Alex woke up with a pounding headache and a sense of disorientation. The harsh sunlight streaming through the window didn't help. As they sat up, they noticed three peculiar objects scattered around the room: a glass milk bottle, an old Bible, and a bicycle tyre. Each item seemed out of place, yet somehow crucial to understanding the foggy events of the previous night.

First, Alex picked up the g...

A glass lays on the counter

Half full, half empty

Half smashed. Milk stains the shards.

Glistening and murky.

Pernicious and no one would know

Until they try to clean it up

And it stays.

In every possible way.

The smell, the taste, the splinters

A part of you forever.

Much like a book

Lingering ideas, beliefs, knowledge

That follows you

Watches you

Omniscient, omnipotent,

Superior. A couple of...

Chloe blinked. She could barely see through blurry eyes. She blinked again, where was she?

A few more blinks and her vision cleared up slightly, with a tinge of blue she could at least make out she was in a living room.

Her body felt strange and she realised that she was hanging half off the couch. Moving to fix her position and a rush of blood swarmed her head and pain exploded. She grabbed he...

I woke up on my living room floor

Passed out from apparent intoxication

An empty bottle of vodka

And several crushed up cans of beer

Adorned my otherwise spotless apartment

Ok, that wasn’t quite true

I hadn’t swept in some time

Dishes had piled up on the sink

And six glass milk canisters

Sat, probably spoiling, on the counter

That’s odd, I thought

The milk wasn’t supposed to come until tomorr...

I’m on the ground. I can’t move. What happened? I can’t remember anything. Way in front of me is a bent up bicycle tyre, next to me a smashed glass milk bottle, no, multiple smashed glass milk bottles. There is a bicycle next to me, missing it’s back tyre, so that’s where the tyre came from, but how did it end up all the way over there?

I remember!

I was on my bicycle, delivering the milk as I u...

Zed wipes her mouth. Wet rubber.

Looking down, squinting her eyes she sees black dancing across her fingers.

She smells them. Rubber scented.

Wiping her saliva stained cheek with her left hand, she feels relief from the itch that work her up.

Blinking a few times, Zed yawns and her eyes glimpse the black circular tube on the floor beside the couch.

‘That’s why my hand is black.’

Surveying the...