When we dream of falling, we inevitably awaken at the moment of impact. When we run for our lives from monsters or madmen, we invariably rouse before the bloodthirsty end. Myth and folklore imply we die in the waking world when we die in our dreams, and this is why living human beings never dream all the way through such slumberous events. This assertion begs a question. How many of the dead have suffered such dreams? Countless nameless people populate our dreams. Who are they? What becomes of them when we lay violent hands upon them in lividity of dreams? An insightful short story.

Alter the future today by reading this story Edited untold eons into our future to manipulate their past, our present, word-by-word this story is meant to exact a desired effect from each reader. The resultant distortion of the individual psyche has a subtle but powerful ability to alter space and time, which exerts an exponential force on the future as it propagates through our population and then countless generations of our progeny to come. The editor of this tale is the last standing Veer, the lone survivor of a time-war devastating humankind's future. She needs your help today An...

When their yacht sinks just east of New Zealand during a round-the-world sailing trip, three survivors somehow manage to pile themselves into a single tiny life raft. Adrift on one of the wildest seas in the world, their struggle to survive is a desperate one, and their hopes for rescue dwindle daily. Many weeks later, a violent storm sweeps them into the frigid and dangerous Antarctic current, and they realize they will ultimately freeze, if they are not rescued before winter comes. As their anger and frustrations grow, they know they must take matters into their own hands, if they are to...

While waiting for his wife to finish shopping, he stumbles across a strangely ornate spiral stairway hidden away at the back of the local mall. Bored, he decides to descend a flight or two to examine the strange window displays arranged along its outer wall. With each downward step, he realizes the displays progressively reflect history long since passed. Intrigued, he delves deeper and deeper into the stairwell's many mysteries. Has he gone too far? It's a deep, dark hole hidden away at the back of a suburban sanctuary. Lured by its presence, he loses his sense of time and then he loses his...

He found a side trail to avoid the bullies of his new neighborhood. It is a lost way through a forgotten cemetery and not even the bravest of his tormentors will walk there. For him, the shortcut is a form of salvation from unwarranted attacks, but for his mother and stepfather it is an excruciating mystery, when through the 'Meadows he goes. Take the shortcut home. You might never arrive.

In the not-so-distant future, human beings are reduced to commodities; components too easily replaced. Everyone has their place and life is at least livable, provided the machine encounters no errors or glitches. This is the story of one such glitch and the horrifying freedom it produces for a simple human cog. We're all consumers. Cogs in a vast machine. Let's hope we remain a vital, integral part of it all.

On a lonely plot of land in the middle of a desolate night, a forlorn man sits drinking and smoking on his porch as he watches a sinister shadow slowly, intrepidly crossing the abandoned rows of a forgotten farm. While a damaged siphon pump works rhythmically in the distance, he ponders the nature of destiny and fate. Will he survive the evening? Something black and terrifying crosses fallow rows, bound for your porch lamp in the darkness. Welcome or no, fate never knocks.