Frankenwife

The sound of an alarm rang. It was a small, brightly lit room, filled with whirring machines. A man stood in the middle of the room, his eyes gleaming with excitement. His hair mussed and his long, white lab coat covered in coffee stains. He had been working non-stop for the last five months in a desperate attempt to return his life to what it used to be. 

“This is it.” He stepped towards the long tube like machine in front of him and pressed his palm to the sensor. The doors whooshed open, the air sending his mussed hair every which way.

The Auction

“Damn! That bastard got me again.” Logan shouted. He clicked the mouse, raising the bid.

“How about that, you fucker?” Logan smiled to himself and reached for the bowl sitting next to the computer. He leaned back in his chair and crammed a handful of the buttery popcorn into his mouth. His eyes never left the screen. There were only five more minutes in the auction and he would win this one. He was packed and ready, he had to win. A high-pitched sound came from the tiny speakers hidden behind the computer. Red writing flashed across the screen.

A Trip Home

This story was inspired by another short story I recently wrote, Home. Check out the original piece here. 

A Trip Home

My name is William Stone. Also known as Willy B, roughest, toughest dope dealer in town. No one fucked with Willy B, unless they had a death wish.

Now, I'm stuck in this cell and I don't know how to get out. Let me tell you what happened.