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Short Story - Alive - Cacy Ann Minter

By: Cacy Ann Minter

I didn’t know where I was when I woke up. I was aware of a pressing sensation on my chest, but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I tried to look around and realized my field of vision was limited to the area directly in front of me. I couldn’t move my arms or legs, or even swivel my head from side to side. I heard voices speaking frantically, but it was as if they were off at a long distance, as if they were at least a football field away. Other than the slight pressure on my upper body, I had no sensation or feeling whatsoever, other than a kind of heaviness I figured was just my brain coping with the paralysis I seemed to be experiencing.

I could see an open expanse of sky so I assumed I was lying prone outside of my car. I thought back as far as I could remember, but for the moment was just drawing a blank. Suddenly, the hazy form of a woman flashed into my view, moving just as quickly out of my range of sight as she had entered. Waiting patiently, I saw her hover in my line of vision once more, flashing a penlight into both of my eyes. At the time I didn’t think about why that bright flash of light didn’t blind me or cause me to blink, but I would later come to know why.

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Short Story - In the Blink of an Eye – Cacy Ann Minter

By: Cacy Ann Minter

Franky couldn’t pinpoint the exact day he first saw the creature. He guessed he’d always had a feeling that something in his existence wasn’t quite right, but he never could put his finger on it. And so he went about his usual boring daily routines, battling the endless flow of commuters to his dead-end job. Franky had become so proficient at purchasing the minuscule parts for his company’s printed circuit boards that he usually only contributed about twenty to thirty minutes of actual work before surfing the web for the remainder of the day. Following another uneventful day perched in front of a hypnotizing monitor inside of his tiny green cubicle, Franky would once more fight his way through traffic, only to return to an empty, sad little studio apartment. His only company was a rat (whom he dubbed Mr. Squeakers) that occasionally shuffled about inside the walls of the tenement, much to his landlord’s chagrin.

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