Double Down

Dave peered from his bunker across the smoldering horizon. He refused to cry.

That charred skeleton of masonry and rebar had once been home. People he knew had died in those streets, now nothing more than corpses and ruin.

After the initial wave of destruction came the pestilence and blight. The rotting skin and miracle pleas suggested a biblical retribution was at hand. The metaphor was on everyone's lips, but Dave clamored against it. He blamed the whining snowflakes who refused to accept they had lost.

Dave remained certain. This outcome was still better than if she had been elected.

Rotten Teeth

Staring down at my bloody teeth, I vowed this would be the last I had this nightmare.

Dr. Lawson called them stress dreams and suggested I examine where my anxiety was coming from. Only I knew their true source. I wasn't going to share it with my therapist.

I tried washing my hands, but soap and water couldn't cure the corruption. My soul had turned, many years ago, and the only way to end its blight was to take my own life. Or to kill again.

Dr. Lawson was the next victim to pay the price for my own cowardice.

Happy Halloween