A bicycle stands against the wall of the antique store, whose windows have long been dark, the soap-written deals yellowed with long decay. The hand holding a digital voice recorder trembles despite the warmth of the day. The smell of blood fills the air, the crimson brightness splashed against the dull surface of the sidewalk in Rorschach blots. A thumb hovers above the play button, finally engaging the playback. (more…)

The yoke about our necks, this crux of all human bondage, is that we remember the suffering of the past.  This awareness of the illusion of time, this surety of our own presence, of our own history…these are the constituents of our misery.  External misfortunes are but the clarion call at the head of our army of woe.  As we have often seen, we humans are capable of misery even in the absence of tragedy.  Lacking true unrest, we will make ourselves un-restful with petty tricks of the mind, picking endlessly at the single dropped thread in the great carpet of life.  We are destined for this, made for it.  Apocalypse aside, we have always gloried in the gloom of our own bruised dreams.  The only difference now is that there are far fewer of us to do the suffering. (more…)

Morris blinked, looked down at his coffee on the table, then back at the restrooms where he’d been. Something had happened. Something big. The whole coffee shop was empty, only wisps of ash floating in the air. The peppy morning music still poured out of the CD player on the shelf above the milk machine.

There were no sirens, no honks from the street, though it appeared there’d been a massive accident, and several cars were pushed out of line. An SUV was actively burning, but no one was doing anything about it. Morris swallowed, took a big sip of his coffee, and put it down. He had to see this. (more…)

The scene couldn’t be purchased for hard currency in any amount. The last three werewolves on earth, defending the Acropolis against a legion of zombies too numerous to count. The evening sky boils with blood, the still air electric, the fallible gods of old looking down on us. (more…)

Broadcast Tape Archive/January, 2011/RZFD 322/Full Transcript:

Hey there, living listeners.  It’s Big Dave here, broadcasting live from the fortress of ass-kickery at Radio Zombie Free Denver.  Yeah, I know I’ve been off the air for a while, and I bet some of you faithless heathens probably thought the zombies lunched up on me, but I’m back, kicking out the tunes, anti-zombie rhetoric, and inane observations at a newly-beefy one hundred thousand watts of AM fury.  I’m on AM bands 800 and 1320, FM 99.5, and Short Wave One where the BBC used to live. (more…)

Andrea leaned against the wide windowsill of the capital building and looked down into the square. In the distance, fire was consuming the outlying districts of the city. The end of everything—the big, stupid hammer between the eyes that knocks society down—the movies, bibles, and chiller books always made it seem as if it would be so loud. Eardrum-smashing screams as everything blows up and goes dark. Really, it had been quiet. Maybe that was the whole idea. You just exhale, and it goes away. Free at last, free at last. (more…)