My entry to the 2012 Anniversary Anthology, Secrets Can Kill.
The Game
Debbie, Richard, and Liz are dead. Who will be next? Vivian, Gordon, or Andrew? Thirty years have passed. The killer is back. The lethal childhood game has not yet ended.
The edited version of the story is uploaded to GA.
Many thanks to NotNoNever for editing my story.
Thought to be extinct, until…
I read on this on the internet. I followed a link that I had seen on a news page. ‘Scientists make dead alive’. The title had captured my interest. This sounded like a sensation and I clicked the link out of curiosity. However, the article was not about what I had expected to find. They had not revived a corpse or brought back to life a deceased. No, the article was about scientists who were working on the genetic material of extinct species.
They had made prog
# 165 caught my interest. There are many more I'd like to work on. But, alas, I need to edit the Mayan Anthology story, and unfortunately I can't come up with an idea for the Winter Anthology. I wrote a story, but now I think it's crap. But # 165 sounds indeed interesting...
Thanks for reading and commenting, Andy. Glad you liked the tale. I've never read the legends of the ravens. Should be interesting to read them. Thanks again
Egg of the Dragon
"Goodness! What a fuss they make of it," I said to myself. I was feeling annoyed.
They had found the skeleton of a dragon. The news on TV and the newspapers were full with it. The scientists of course said that the skeleton was that of a dinosaur. And, in fact, it resembled one. There was just one difference that the scientists were unable to explain. The skeleton had wings. This alone would not have caused much stir if the skeleton was small enough to be the skeleton o
The Mud Worm
I had been a worm ever since I was born. I lived in a little hole in the ground. I crept here and there. There was mud everywhere. I was a mud worm, so to speak. The center of my world was a big and fat spider that eyed me constantly and for ages, so it seemed to me. I wormed along every day and rested only little at night. Time went by and nothing changed. I hated my mud worm life. It was frustrating me. So I made plans. I planned my escape. But I did not know where to go since
Debbie, Richard, and Liz are dead. Who will be next? Vivian, Gordon, or Andrew? Thirty years have passed. The killer is back. The lethal childhood game has not yet ended.
The Game
"Gordon."
It took me some time to connect the name with the man whose voice I heard on the phone. I held my cell phone tighter when I had found the connection.
"Gordon? How are you doing?" I asked. My voice was rough and hoarse.
I had pushed it to the back of my mind. However, subconsciously, I had always known this day was inevitable.
Gordon talked on. His words were fast and chopped. I felt the urge to just end the call and dismiss him. Instead, I listened, albeit wi