The Thing lay in bed in a tiny studio apartment; a gray skinned specter void of life. An investigator worth his weight in salt would have sworn the man had been dead for weeks. A metal oscillating fan with no safety cover and a broken housing slowly retrained its aim on the bed, the sheets moving in waves as water lapping on a seashore. The little pink and blue ribbons tied to what was left of the safety cage stood proud of the fan, fluttering wildly as the cool breeze molded the sheets to the Thing’s body, sculpting and shaping like an invisible hand on clay. A wedge of sunlight shone through the window, creeping silently, slowly across the pillow. A fly landed on the dead man’s forehead and began an … Read entire article »

…the Thing had lunged at her; now it laid on the ground at her feet a bloody, unrecognizable mass. Its face stared up at her (what was left of it anyway), its lone eyeball gazing into her own, as if to say “help me”. The side of its head concave, now a spongy red and gray mass, looked surreal to her as the green grass provided a sharp contrast to where the Thing’s skull should have been. She had broken its jaw clean in two, one side of it protruding grotesquely through its chin. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She reacted, her basest animal instinct – kill or be killed – kicked in and directed her body. As she brought the club down atop the Thing’s head, she felt nothing. Emotionless, … Read entire article »