Over on Notes, someone asked if anyone out there liked horror, and I raised my hand, adding that I used to write short-form. So here’s one from the vault, written in 2022. It's not horror per se, but it could build into one. For now, it’s just a dystopian intro to a larger story.
Ella watched the birds fly away. It would be the last time she saw them. The earth was getting hotter, and already, certain species of animals had died off. At least, that’s what she read online.
From her porch, she paged through her books of old stamps, this collection from Lisbon. But she had many other volumes in the house. Philatelist, the cover said. She smiled. She didn’t call herself that, but Tommy had bought these leather binders for her and had that emblazoned on the front. She was glad for them, encased in each plastic page, because the delicate stamps were curling because of the heat. She mopped her brow and turned on the news. The strangest headline: 600-year-old amulet stolen; Fortune teller goes missing. At least it was a break from the daily chronicles about the impending comet entering the atmosphere and causing all these terrible temperature mishaps.
Ella glanced over at the sleeping form on the futon. The throw was tossed on the floor. Even cotton on your skin was too hot these days. She didn’t blame Eli. But she did worry for him. Growing up in such a remote area kept him from socializing with other kids. And she wished he had some friends. Even the boys who threw rocks at cats would have been preferable. But she hadn’t seen them much anymore. And the cats had disappeared.
If you liked this and would like to read more of my short-form fiction, let me know!