Ninnyhammer, they called him.
The boy who couldn’t do anything right.
Ninnyhammer, they said.
The boy who tripped over his own feet.
Ninnyhammer, they named him.
The boy who was born to be mocked.
Ninnyhammer, they cried.
The boy who carried the flame.
Ninnyhammer, they yelled.
The boy who started the fire.
Ninnyhammer, they screamed.
The boy who turned everything to ash.
Ninnyhammer, the silence echoed.
The boy who would never be called that again.
“Oh, no more for me, thank you.”
“Are you sure? Not even a little bit?”
“Well…alright. Just one more cup.”
Jeffrey sipped his tea with a smile.
His body would be found two days later.
Just another victim of the baffling serial killer known as Mr. Teacup.
Food and time are in short supply. Not enough to sustain both of us.
I can already feel the infection coursing through my body. It won’t be long before I turn.
If I kill myself, she might have a chance at survival in the overrun city.
If I kill her, while my mind’s still intact, it’ll be a small mercy. Then I can join the bloodthirsty hordes on the streets.
One gun, one bullet, one decision. Only one of us walks out of here.
The old revolver feels heavy in my hands. My trembling finger caresses the trigger.
I am always at your side,
Whether day or night,
But you rarely pay attention to me.
In the rays of the sun I am strongest,
And much beloved.
At night, I am everywhere and nowhere,
instilling fear and distrust.
You cannot abandon me,
And I will never leave you.
On a dying world,
A man writes a last message:
“Totally worth it.”
I love waking up
And seeing your lovely face
Mounted on my wall.