dreamszilla

Two graffiti taggers stuck in a backwater hometown develop an affinity with a supernatural object, first published in Not One of Us issue #87, July 2026. Image generated with OpenAI The Plateau erupted in the center of town last winter. I wasn't nearby when it happened. I was at Meelo's house, drinking beer in his basement, passing time 'til it got late enough to paint. My skin was still peachy-beige back then, and Meelo's was still golden-brown. Both our voices were still clear. At midnight we packed our bags and zipped up our windbreakers, filled our pockets with nozzles and markers and little bundles of weed. Tossed the bags in the trunk of Meelo's beat-up sedan and got in. Painting in town was cooked. Two winters ago our tags made the front page of the paper. People in town already looked at us sideways, always had. Once Meelo got the face tat, it was pretty much over. I convinced him we should probably cool it. There were miles of freeways in different jurisdic...

Jen must face up to her relationship with her troubled father when they plan to attend her brother's wedding. Image generated with OpenAI I stand in front of the full-length mirror, running my fingers over my evening gown from Nordstrom's in Boston. My two-year-old son pulls at the hem. "Soft?" I lean down and stroke his hair. "That's right, Charlie. The vel-vet is as soft as moss." The side seams need to be let out another two inches. My daughter Eleanor is arriving in two months, and she has already busted the zipper. At least the blue will give me authority for my role as officiant. The bridesmaids - poor ducks - will be dressed in a hue called "champagne." On New Year's Eve, my younger brother Benjamin will marry Marianne, his childhood friend from the sandbox in our old neighborhood. I was thrilled when they finally asked me to join their lives together. They'd been so mysterious about their intentions for weeks. "No one kno...

Two children bully a schoolmate into showing them his secret fort, but there are hidden dangers. Image generated with OpenAI It was Neil's idea, as I remember it, as most of our bright schemes were. That long summer holiday we were bored, he and I, which, as most people know, can lead to serious consequences when you're thirteen. No school, and there was never much to do in Graevwych, but we had to make our mischief somewhere. We knew this kid, a year below us, Daniel Bartlett, who you could mess about with royally and get away with it. Everybody, including the teachers, thought he was a sandwich short of a picnic and nobody minded, really, if he got teased a bit. So in the playground we used to nick his schoolbag and have him running around after us trying to snatch it back. Get him to hand over his dinner money to us, spend it on fags, and have fun watching him splutter when we gave him one to smoke. Egg him on to say things to girls - I mean things that would have them slapp...