Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror Writer
Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror Writer
At the beginning of every semester, without fail, if someone transfers out of a class or withdraws from the school, the rumors start.
“They got put into a Q-hall class!” everyone gasps with exaggerated shock and dramatic wringing of hands. “They’ll never be seen again.”
Mr. Bear had seen better days. Patches of his fur were matted and sticky-looking, whether from jelly or paint, I was never sure. His once-white belly and paws were distinctly gray. His plastic eyes were dull and scratched, and his nose, which used to light up and play music when his paw was squeezed, looked like it had been chewed on.
That night while I lay in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about the announcement. About the plate next to Gregory’s Diet Cokes, which the teacher had piled next to the trash can, refusing to open a single one. When I finally fell asleep, it was fitful, tossing and turning, and I dreamt of itchy, hairy legs crawling across my bare arms, legs connected to bodies with no heads.
Allie recalled the threats to never let her outside without a tether holding her to the house’s foundations. She hadn’t tried entering Impleo’s orbit since then. But she hadn’t stopped thinking about springing up from the ground, sailing away from the grayish soil into the starry sky. Now she had her chance.
