by Tiffany Morris
Issue 2: Game
Make Yourself at Home by Allie Cheroutes
1. You wake to fog, fire, fevers. The second day of reckoning.
2. A tower glitters in the distance, licking the burning skyline. Run toward it.
3. Do you hear that? Sirens, weeping, whispering.
4. The outcome is unforeseeable. Do you still run? Y/N?
5. Alleyways dart into fire escapes. Streets chew hope, vomit ruin.
6. Pink clouds billow, a geometric sequence. The dark sky unfolding.
7. A shadow darts into shadow. Olly olly oxen free. Forty, forty, see you.
8. Fatigue tattooed onto muscle. Falling to concrete. As if to pray, to sleep.
9. Dreams stab through skin. Wounds weep neon light.
10. This message will self-destruct.
Tiffany Morris is a Mi’kmaw writer from Nova Scotia. Her horror fiction and poetry have appeared in Augur Magazine, Eye to the Telescope, Room Magazine, among others. Find her online at tiffmorris.com or on Twitter @tiffmorris.