Sand – Part Nine
Short Story I blink. I’m in front of Maddy’s apartment, fully dressed, with my revolver tucked into my pants. My head is blank, wiped empty. All I can do is stare down at...
Tagged: PTSD
Sand – Part Eight
Serial Fiction In the trashcan next to the desk, there’s an almost-full pack of cigarettes. There’s a thousand reasons for why I could have thrown it in there, but there’s only one reason...
Sand – Part Seven
Serial Fiction She finished her drink and glanced over at me. Shifty-eyed and mouth hanging open, I probably didn’t look like the sanest guy in the room. “Max?” she said. “Are you okay?...
Sand – Part Six
Short Story I think I heard something pop, but I can’t be sure. Like, somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear a squishy membrane just split from sheer pressure. It’s...
Sand – Part Five
Serial Fiction “Yeah.” Maddy said. “I’m sorry.” “I know you are.” I twitched a little at that one. It’s something a teacher would say. Sure, they know you’re sorry, but you still aren’t...
Sand – Part Four
Serial Fiction I clocked out about ten minutes after I clocked in. Maddy and me tried to keep conversation, but the air was a little to heavy for that. We mostly just rode...
Sand – Part Three
Serial Fiction Madeline and I have been friends since middle school, sometimes more and sometimes less. After my discharge, I spent more than a few months drifting around Chicago, getting drunk when I...
Sand – Part Two
Short Story I’ve been getting more angry than usual. Ever since I got home, the tiniest little shit can manage to set me off like a firecracker. I vaguely remember being an easygoing...
