Last Nightmare (story)

Last night a teenager named Lev was running down the street. He knew he had to get home before his mom got upset. He couldn't be late again or things would be awful. "Why did I lose track of the time?" he thought to himself. He was going as fast as he could but he was still going to be late. He turned the corner and was crushed by the car of a drunk driver.


Lev found himself on the stage of a small auditorium. In front of him was a middle aged man in a tuxedo. The man was balding, fat, and smiling broadly. He had a microphone and was addressing an audience. The audience was made up of people suffering from a variety of horrible maladies. One man had bloody bits of metal protruding from his face and chest. Another had insects crawling all over him. One women had yellow bile seeping out her skin. All in all there were about three dozen people in the audience, all with equally dreadful afflictions.

The man in front of him spoke "And tonight we congratulate Lev, recently killed by being hit by a car."

He turned and gave Lev a cheerful nod.

"Lev has had quite an insignificant life. He has had no notable achievements, or has really ever accomplished anything worth mentioning. What's more, he would he never have accomplished anything had he not died so young. He was living in vain and his death means nothing at all. It's a truly pointless life has been snuffed out. Please rise to honor the most recent addition to the multitude of people who have died, and have no reason to be remembered.


The audience rose from their seats, almost as if they were being violently forced up. They gave a chorus made of shrieks and moans of pain. The man who had given the speech pointed to a black door off the stage. Lev slowly walked to it, put his hand on the knob, and opened it.

The Cutest Racism (story)

Two Chinese girls are boarding at an American private school. It's 4:30 pm, and they are in their dorm having a conversation while they do their homework together.

Translated into English


"Hu? Why are you hanging out with that Japanese boy?"


"Masaya? Why not?"


"Japanese, Koreans, horrible people. Almost not human. History teaches us that."


"Yi, your roommate is Korean. Mine is too"


"Ugh I hate her. She's so messy, I have to clean up after her."


"Sounds like me and my roommate"


"So your roommate is filthy too?"


"No. I'm the messy one. I make her clean up after me."


"You shouldn't do that! You can't just make other people clean up after you!"


"You just said Koreans are hardly even people so why do you care?"


A long pause. Yi has a look somewhere between annoyed, angry, and confused. The 2nd girl looks bored out of her mind. Then Yi says:


"You still haven't said why you're hanging out with Masaya."

"Yi, just cause your parents wouldn't even let you watch a TV show if it was made in Japan doesn't mean you have to be as bigoted as they are."

"My parents gave me proper values and a sense of-"

"Sounds like we'd hate each other. Anyway I like Maseya. He isn't -quite- as much of an idiot as most other people in this school."


"You think he's cute don't you? People say he's cute but he isn't. Japanese aren't cute. They're ugly."


"Who says he's cute?"


"People"


"By people do you mean you?"


"No, no-I think he's-"


"Gorgeous?"


"Stop it. I really hate you sometimes"


"Well you're free to leave me alone, rather than enduring my company"


Yi gets up to leave. Hu says


"Wait. I have something I was supposed to give you."


She reaches into her pocket, takes a piece of paper with Chinese writing on it, and hands it to her scowling companion.


"What is this?"


"Read it."


A pause.


"It's a love note to me..."


"Uh huh"


"But who's it from?"


"Masaya of course."


"But it's in Mandarin."


"Yeah, he's taught it to himself to impress you. I helped him a bit. Not much else to do in a place this boring. "

There is a long, awkward pause. Then Yi starts to cry. She goes to her room. Hu watches her go impassively. Then she smiles despite herself. She'd never admit it, but she likes this kind of sappy romance.

The Mind Reader (story)

I hate it. I sense the things in everyone's head for miles around me. It's nothing but a cluttered mess of thoughts and feelings, sensations and images. Nothing makes sense. It's so difficult to write this because I keep on seeing and feeling so many things. And i hate it because I forget what's mine and whats someone else's. Do i feel the warmth of the sun? is that someone elses feeling? don't know. Just trying to write but it's so hard to remember what I'm doing. Can't focus on anything when feeling everything. and sooner or later the pain. someone will get their heart broken or will be hurt and I will feel it. i just laughed. Somthing funny about imminent pain? No somebody else must have heard something funny. risk of feeling pain cant be funny. it's scary the risk of pain is scary. i hav to keep writing. need this to remeber who I am. scared to forget what thoughts is myown. Writing sofast feel urgency. Is this urgent? got an image of messy paper with math problms on it. Somebody else's homework is late. This isn't urgent. I can take my time, use grammar. Have to keep writing so when I wake up I have a somthing that helps me remember where others end and I begin. What's my name? I don't know. Whenever I try to think of my name a dozen pop into my head. Don't know which is mine and which are just people thinking of their name. Horrible fear. a knife. Not being stabbed. somebody else is. hurts theyre dyeing.god ithurts ithurtsithurtsithurts.

Short Story

Inspired by the show Dexter.



I found out Elise was dead. They announced her suicide on morning announcements. I stopped and turned cold. Not because, as most people might assume, I was sorry for her. This was a new situation and I had to be careful not to give any hints that might let people see how empty I am. I thought about how a person who wasn't empty would react. How well did I know her? I had talked to her occasionally, but was not considered to be her friend. Should I pretend to cry? I looked around, most people seemed to be distressed, one girl is crying but I think she was a friend of Elise's. I figured that I didn't need to cry. I wondered if I might have something to do with her suicide. I stole 30 dollars from her purse last week. I didn't think that 30 dollars would cause anyone to commit suicide but it could be a final push. I felt chilled with fear for a few minutes, but nobody had seen me steal the money. Nobody would know that I might have had something to do with her suicide. I felt safe again. I almost smiled but I remembered that wouldn't have looked right to the class.

After first class (which, to my enjoyment, was cut short due to the teacher consoling the upset students). I watched a kid get harassed in the hallway. After a moment one of them slapped the back of his head. I was almost able to empathise with him. Not the kid being hit, but the one who was doing the hitting. I always have an interest in that kind of thing. An exertion of power over a weaker creature. It appeals to me. I almost wanted to join in, but I recognized the kid being bullied, an awkward but very wealthy student. I waited until his tormentors had dispersed before I approached him. I feigned sympathy for him, and apologised for not helping him. He forgave me. I knew he would. He would have done the same thing. He was a coward, I could tell by looking at him. I could befriend him, make him trust me. I could steal his things and he wouldn't have the courage to admit to himself that some he trusted had betrayed him. I smiled. He took that as a friendly expression and tried to make some small talk.