The screeching of tires filled the air, shattering the calm that had previously enveloped the house. An ear-piercing scream was next, rattling the windows. Sticky wetness splattered against her skin and clothes. This was probably the first time in her life she would ever be grateful she couldn’t see. It was the first time she wished she was deaf too, so she wouldn’t have to hear his nauseating scream-crying. A gasp escaped her lips as she woke. “Fuck…” she ran her fingers through her hair, sitting up, the silk blankets falling around her waist. Breathing out, she lowered her hand back to the bed. She swung her legs over the edge, slipping her feet into her slippers. She entered the kitchen and maneuvered to the coffee pot, but when she went to grab the pot, her hand only grabbed air. “Greg, you mother fucker!” “Whu- Yeah?” Greg’s confused voice sounded from the couch. “Where is the coffee pot?” “Oh shit.” The rustling of jeans being put on while a grown man wa...
Original short stories by Robin J. Harrison, an upcoming author working on his first novel in his spare time.