The Attack

By: Melissa Ratliff

The siren had started blasting at 3:27am. Stumbling from their beds, they quickly switched on their datapads to assess the threat. They were prepared for nuclear wars, but not this. They ran to the window, convinced it was some prank. Precious seconds ticked by while they stood slack-jawed as the scene unfolded. It was a full-blown attack. Forget Bigfoot; these hairy beasts were at least 40 feet tall and marched in formation down their dark street, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. Their eyes widened as one approached, ripped off the roof of their house and reached within.


By: Melissa Ratliff

I was listening to Lore. I gravitate towards strange, but just out of reach of horror. It was a fall evening and I was walking my dog on the greenway. The episode was about little hairy creatures that approached a man while he was out walking in the woods. Speaking a strange chittery language, they beckoned him to follow (which, he smartly did not). I knew it wasn’t real. I knew I was in the city. But did that stop me from quickening my pace, constantly looking over my shoulder, and jumping at every sound? No. No it did not.

Closet Monster

By: Melissa Ratliff

There’s a monster in my closet. I’ve never seen it, but I know it’s there. It thumps late at night, sending shivers down my spine, opening the door ever so slightly with a drawn out creak as I cower under the sheets. And don’t get me started on the clothes. I hang them by color so they’re easier to find. So why, I ask, did the yellow silk blouse end up next to the purple peplum top last Thursday? Or how did the blue polka dotted dress get sandwiched between a red sweater and burgundy pencil skirt? Exactly. The monster.

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