Midnight Dance

He felt his eyes close. Shadows danced as a train passed and his light flickered on and off. The clock ticked to midnight. The walls had long since lost their charm, with the wallpaper peeling, slowly. He got up and washed his face in the bathroom, trying not to inhale the mold as he entered.

He had liked his old neighborhood; off the river, in a quaint, little suburb where life seemed to stand still. But the new job was too great an opportunity to pass up.

The bathroom light began to flicker as he soaked his face in the sink. His hands began to feel numb, so he turned the faucet to the left and stumbled his way back into his single bedroom. He checked the time; it was one. He crawled back into bed and lay, staring at the ceiling. The wind began to howl and the sky began to pour. His eyes scanned the room and went slowly from the window up the wall. There was a crack and water dripped as the rain fell.

A flash of lightning and the shadows grew more pronounced, making shapes in the dark. He checked the clock and it was two.

He had heard the neighbors whispering the day before. He had said hello and was met with worried looks. A year before, the previous owner had committed suicide. When the police had come, they had only found a pool of blood and a finger, no body. The pool of blood trailed off to where the crack now laid and tiny scratches left their marks on the hardwood floor. The police theorized that he had gone insane, cutting off his own finger and then gutting himself before driving his car into the river. However, this was just a theory.

Another drip of water and the clock hit three. Another flash of lightning and the shadows seemed to inch closer to the bed. He heard a tapping on the window and another flash. The light bulb shattered and he was in utter darkness. The train passed and he could make out the outlines of a face; he was not alone.

Hi all, it’s been a bit! I’ve been extremely busy but felt in the mood to write, so here we are. As you are aware, I’ve started diving into short stories and have been mostly be doing fantasy and near-future apocalyptic story-lines. As Autumn has come around, I thought it’d be fun to dive further into horror. It’ll be sloppy at first but I’m hoping to improve through practice. Hope you enjoyed this piece and as always, feel free to comment below!

New Horizon: a short story by Mike Cole

He woke to the sound of sirens. Red flashing lights. How long had he been out? He checked his forehead, and felt the crusted blood in his finger tips. The airlock had sealed and he was alone.

The New Horizon was humanity’s last hope. The greatest minds Earth had to offer came together in one last ditch effort to save the planet. And they failed. Generations of neglect left the world barren and the burden was too much for one generation to bear. The station was a prototype terraformer and the team had been there about a month. The station had launched right before the collapse of the Western Union and while the East,  Midwest, and Southern Unions still held, he knew not for how long.

He checked the blinking screen. Sector A1 had been ejected due to a breach in quarantine. Sector B2 was damaged but still intact. Sectors D4 and E5 appeared to be operational. He tried to remember where he was. What was his name? He tried to concentrate; his vision began to blur and he stumbled a little. How hard had he hit his head? Where were the others? And with those thoughts swirling his head, his vision began to darken and he hit the ground once again with a thump.

When he was a child, he was born into a world where he was  unwanted and what resources were left, he would never own. The population had reached 20 billion and had plateaued. Hundreds of thousands were dying every day due to starvation and poor living conditions; even the rich were beginning to suffer. First, there was the orbital drilling. What was once excitement turned to disdain. Meteoroids were mined initially and the materials harvested were used to create vertical farms and diverse bio-domes with the richest nutrients. Then came the moon mining. Once scientists realized they could refine the moon soil to accelerate plant growth, they without hesitation began to do so.



“Henry, do you copy?”

*bzzz* *bzzz*

“The others, they didn’t make it. Fred and Charlie were in sector A1 when the quarantine protocol was enacted. They didn’t even have time to react.”

“Laurie was killed when life support blew up. I knew it was a bad idea to build the station so Damn close to the moon!”

*warning, life support is offline. Oxygen reserves at 68%. Warning, please proceed to the shuttle bay.*

Henry drifted in and out of consciousness.

As sea levels continued to rise, so did conflict. War broke out over the dying crops in what came to be known as the ten year war. Europe was all but gone and the United States had been repaved with the collapse of the Federal Government. New Horizon, what a joke. After the dust settled, those who survived only then thought it necessary to work together. A mission to save the world yet there was no world left to save…

*warning, oxygen reserves at 27%*

Shit, how long have I been out? It was getting warm and Henry could feel the sweat trickle down his face. He checked the temperature gauge. 30 Degrees Celsius. In the distance, an explosion. Going to the window, he sees what looks to be the shuttle bay, or at least, what was. Shit. The hull begins to creak and Henry looks up just as a metal comes to greet him squarely on the top of his head.

*warning, 10 kilometers to impact*

Yes, that’s right, I have finally gotten around to writing another short story. The exciting part is, unlike the others, this story is to be continued. I will not go into spoilers and will have more in the coming months. Next week will be about gaming and all viewers are welcome. And the week after will be an article about photography with photos I took during the 4th of July. Hope you enjoyed the content and feel free to comment below!

Funds to send Mike to Mars

I love producing content. As I grow as an individual, so does my content. What was once acceptable now isn’t. As such, more time is spent working on each post. I do all edits, research, and content creation. Whether it’s taking photos for a post one day to writing poetry the next, my blog is keeping me busy. Donations are appreciated and are used to invest in creative pursuits whether that be writing classes, art lessons, and anything in-between.


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