Connor. “I’m sorry about your brother.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said the other man, withdrawing a hand from his pocket long enough to gesture dismissively before hiding it away again. “Ancient history, like I said. You should have met my brother. You remind me of him a little, just a bit smarter than everyone else around. Ever thought about becoming a lawyer?”
“Thanks, but no.” Connor could feel his canines pressing into his tongue. His stomach knotted and his vision was shrinking to a tunnel. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. “Hey listen, I need a drink like you wouldn’t believe. You want to join me? You won’t have to pay a thing.”
* * * * *
Michael Lorenson was born and raised in Montreal where he still resides with his wife, two sons, and cat. He recently rediscovered a love for writing after a long hiatus. His work has recently appeared in the Tesseracts 14 anthology of Canadian speculative fiction, and he is looking forward to many more years of letting his imagination carry him where it will.
Outwitted
By Sandra Wickham
I wake to pain in my arm and across my chest that makes me want to scream and curl into a ball, but I can’t do either. Panic rushes through me as I try to open my eyes. They don’t respond.
“It’s the drugs,” a woman’s voice says, close to my ear. “Just relax.”
Relax? Why can’t I move? The words are only in my head, I’m unable to speak. I’m lying on my back. Was there an accident? I can hear other people moving around me but no one speaks to me again. I feel something pulling me under, the pain or the drugs. The sounds fade.
I’m with my family, in the house my brother, sister and I grew up in. It’s spring. Today is warm, sun kissed with the promise of summer.
My sister and I are laughing and playing with our dolls in the backyard, trying to sit them on the swing so we can push them. My Dad and brother are in the driveway working on their bikes, fixing and adjusting, acting like mechanics.
Mom isn’t home from work yet, but she’ll be back soon and we’ve planned a family barbecue.
Something pierces my arm and the vision of my family spins away. This time my eyes snap open but I see only a yellowish blur.
“It’s awake again.” This, a man’s voice.
My eyes won’t focus and my mind feels trapped in a heavy fog. My senses seem cut off, dulled. I know someone is laying fingers on my arm at the wrist, but their touch is cold.
“We can’t keep her like this.” It’s the woman from before.
There’s a loud click, then a filtered voice fills the room. “I don’t need to remind you how important this is. Keep it under until our colleagues arrive.” There’s another click.
Keep me under? I fight to move any part of my body, anything at all, but it’s useless.
“We’ve taken as much blood as we can,” says the man close to me.
Click.
“Then we wait.”
Click.
My blood? Is there something wrong with my blood? Sounds and feelings slip away from me once more.
I’m in the cafeteria, eating an overflowing sandwich with one hand, holding a highlighter over a text book with the other. Lettuce falls onto the book and I set the sandwich down to pick it off. I look up and see a male student crossing the room. He catches me staring and I quickly look down at my text. It’s too late, he’s coming my way. I know I’m blushing, I can feel the heat in my face. Why is he making me feel this way? I’ve never even seen him before. He’s at my table so I have to look up.
“Hi,” he says. “This seat taken?” I shake my head and he sits down, throwing his backpack on the chair next to him. He holds his hand out across my book. “I’m Tom.”
I take his hand and swallow the last bit of food in my mouth. “I’m Sarah.”
“Nice to meet you, Sarah.”
Before we know it, we’ve both missed classes and have talked non-stop for nearly three hours. After exchanging phone numbers and email addresses, we
“Don’t worry about it,” said the other man, withdrawing a hand from his pocket long enough to gesture dismissively before hiding it away again. “Ancient history, like I said. You should have met my brother. You remind me of him a little, just a bit smarter than everyone else around. Ever thought about becoming a lawyer?”
“Thanks, but no.” Connor could feel his canines pressing into his tongue. His stomach knotted and his vision was shrinking to a tunnel. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. “Hey listen, I need a drink like you wouldn’t believe. You want to join me? You won’t have to pay a thing.”
* * * * *
Michael Lorenson was born and raised in Montreal where he still resides with his wife, two sons, and cat. He recently rediscovered a love for writing after a long hiatus. His work has recently appeared in the Tesseracts 14 anthology of Canadian speculative fiction, and he is looking forward to many more years of letting his imagination carry him where it will.
Outwitted
By Sandra Wickham
I wake to pain in my arm and across my chest that makes me want to scream and curl into a ball, but I can’t do either. Panic rushes through me as I try to open my eyes. They don’t respond.
“It’s the drugs,” a woman’s voice says, close to my ear. “Just relax.”
Relax? Why can’t I move? The words are only in my head, I’m unable to speak. I’m lying on my back. Was there an accident? I can hear other people moving around me but no one speaks to me again. I feel something pulling me under, the pain or the drugs. The sounds fade.
I’m with my family, in the house my brother, sister and I grew up in. It’s spring. Today is warm, sun kissed with the promise of summer.
My sister and I are laughing and playing with our dolls in the backyard, trying to sit them on the swing so we can push them. My Dad and brother are in the driveway working on their bikes, fixing and adjusting, acting like mechanics.
Mom isn’t home from work yet, but she’ll be back soon and we’ve planned a family barbecue.
Something pierces my arm and the vision of my family spins away. This time my eyes snap open but I see only a yellowish blur.
“It’s awake again.” This, a man’s voice.
My eyes won’t focus and my mind feels trapped in a heavy fog. My senses seem cut off, dulled. I know someone is laying fingers on my arm at the wrist, but their touch is cold.
“We can’t keep her like this.” It’s the woman from before.
There’s a loud click, then a filtered voice fills the room. “I don’t need to remind you how important this is. Keep it under until our colleagues arrive.” There’s another click.
Keep me under? I fight to move any part of my body, anything at all, but it’s useless.
“We’ve taken as much blood as we can,” says the man close to me.
Click.
“Then we wait.”
Click.
My blood? Is there something wrong with my blood? Sounds and feelings slip away from me once more.
I’m in the cafeteria, eating an overflowing sandwich with one hand, holding a highlighter over a text book with the other. Lettuce falls onto the book and I set the sandwich down to pick it off. I look up and see a male student crossing the room. He catches me staring and I quickly look down at my text. It’s too late, he’s coming my way. I know I’m blushing, I can feel the heat in my face. Why is he making me feel this way? I’ve never even seen him before. He’s at my table so I have to look up.
“Hi,” he says. “This seat taken?” I shake my head and he sits down, throwing his backpack on the chair next to him. He holds his hand out across my book. “I’m Tom.”
I take his hand and swallow the last bit of food in my mouth. “I’m Sarah.”
“Nice to meet you, Sarah.”
Before we know it, we’ve both missed classes and have talked non-stop for nearly three hours. After exchanging phone numbers and email addresses, we
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