“I’m seeing needles,” Barry said. He held up both hands. “I’m out.” He started backing up.
Carlos rushed forward, stilling holding the device in his hands. Barry kept his gaze fixed on the device as he backed right up to the closed door of the small laboratory. His gaze flicked up to Carlos, just as his hand reached behind and found the doorknob.
“They’re not needles!” Carlos said.
Barry frowned. He turned the knob.
“It’s cake!” Carlos said.
Read More The Cauliflower Cake Faker
“Memories are unreliable…”
Max paused, hesitated actually. He’d rehearsed aloud what he was going to say so many times—despite not needing to remember the words—that he’d fooled himself into believing it all sounded reasonable. But now, he was about to say the words out loud to another person, the most critical person he could possibly tell his truth to.
Read More My Every Existing Memory
I’d lock myself up if I thought I was really a danger. I’d have myself committed to a psychiatric hospital. I would. To keep from hurting someone. I don’t want it to come to that. But I’d do it.
Read More Flickering Frieda
My name is Dolores Potterson. But everyone calls me Dotty Potsy. It’s a long story. It’s a doozy. And almost no one believes it, which is why they say I’m dotty.
Read More Dotty Potsy