“The Statistical Likelihood of Recent Events” by Nathaniel Phillips
The radio barely finished announcing the tornado warnings when the man in the ratty blazer stepped off the sidewalk – or was it more of a hop, just a bit too gleeful? – in front of Carl’s pickup. Carl slammed on the brakes, a couple tires locking and hydroplaning. Lily, knees already tucked at her chin, stopped mid-sentence. He instinctively reached up to shield his face with the palm of his hand, a hollow movement that offered only a flimsy promise of safety.
“Doppelgänger” by Rowan Hill
That’s not your reflection. It can’t be. She looks like you, there in the bathroom mirror. Only ever in the bathroom mirror. A perfect simulacrum. Golden curls, a dark cloud hovering around the eye, even the bandages around her wrist are the same kind of fresh. But she’s not you. She’s too fast.
“Transcript of Last Live Stream from SS Amphitrite October 3, 202X” by Buzz Dixon
[Transmission begins 07:34GMT; Professor Robert Cushnel, PhD. speaking:] Hey, Cap’n Bob here, inside the ExoDeep 21, bringing you our latest live stream from the S. S. Amphitrite expedition as we explore the mysteries of Ato Oti, or “the dead atoll” as the Samoans and South Sea Islanders called it. Don’t forget to sign-up for future reports and notifications, and be sure to visit our online store for mugs and T-shirts and other cool souvenirs of our expedition.
“Bad Guys Wear Black” by Nu Yang
Tina’s ears were still ringing when Ashley introduced her to Jesse after the Pearl Jam concert. He looked way older than the both of them, but then again, they were only fifteen. Anyone with a driver’s license was way older. Jesse didn’t seem to mind. He gave Tina a big smile when she told him her name. With her braces and flat chest, she wasn’t used to guys looking in her direction. “Come on. He has beer.” Ashley pulled her outside the arena to the parking lot. Her blond ponytail bounced with her steps as she looped their arms together.
“The Lady with the Backwards Head” by Melissa Pleckham
“Yellow slow, green go, stop on red, And watch out for the lady with the backwards head. Stay in your lane or you’ll be dead If you see the lady with the backwards head!” — Children’s Playground Rhyme, 20th c. Not one of us believed in her. Not one. We all grew up hearing it, of course, chanting it like an incantation while slapping our hands together in increasingly intricate combinations, while hopping from one foot to another over jump ropes that whirled past our heads like guillotine blades. She wasn’t even a proper boogeyman — there was no way
