Archive for the ‘Jennifer Kalison’ Category

ZOMBIE by Metalinvasor on DeviantArt.com

The knob jiggled; Katie positioned herself near the door. There was a second of silence before it flew open in an explosion of splinters. Katie swung her bat, but the intruder ripped it out of her hands, and smashed her skull with one nauseating crack.

I buried my axe into his neck before he could turn around. He dropped beside her, bleeding out onto the floor.

Another man entered. We quickly assessed each other.

He held out his hand. I grabbed my supplies before accepting it, and followed him out.

And that’s how I met your father.

Advertisements

Drive by RETORBOY on DeviantArt.com

Jessie clips the runner, sees him fall, stops to watch the stain spread from beneath his skull.

“They should only give 100 points for an ex,”  Dolan teases.  “Just seems too easy.”

Jessie rolls her eyes, continues on.  It’s quiet for miles, then 3 figures appear, trying to pull themselves from their wreck.  Jessie cuts hard to the right, spins out in a perfect circle.  Two go airborne; one ends up under the wheel.  Bones crunch as she backs up, barely able to hide her shudder.

“600 points enough for you, Dad?”

Dolan chuckles, unable to hide his pride.

Explosive Action by Andezigi on Deviant Art

“Navigator!  Wake the fuck up!”

“Huh? Oh.  Turn left at the Piggly Wiggly; there’s a diner two block down that makes great pie.”

Poor Ivan. He got my depressed migraine-addled ass as a navigator.  Only my sarcasm remains intact.  I feel his eyes on me; he’s incredulous.

A 1969 Mustang on steroids enters his peripheral, and he squeezes some kind of lever. I hear an explosion, but we continue, unhindered, through thick, black smoke.

“That was awesome,”  I offer, feeling a twinge of excitement.

He tries to hold back a smile.  So do I.  There’s still hope for a win.

fell down the stairs? by ImSHOE on DeviantArt.com

Look at these people, these happy people … so beautiful, yet so drunk.

The first went down outside the ladies room, my blade smooth along her halter-top’s tan line. So young, she cut like butter.

I left the next looking like a fall, so good to hear the snap of her neck, and the thump of her head on each stair.

The third was older, but quick. She saw my blade; in one glance her eyes revealed a lifetime of anger and frustration. I felt the snap of my wrist, pain in my eye, then a warm trickle, down my cheek.