The Saga of Steve Leopard(part 1)

Image Credit: Anna L., Hampstead, NH The author's comments: I love the Cirque Du Freak series. I bet a lot of people, like me, were curious about what happened to Steve between books 2-8. This story takes place at the end of book 1. Darren's death had me torn up. I had lost my best friend. Sure,I had Tommy and Alan,but it just wasn't the same. The worst part was the hate and suspicion I had felt before he died. He just couldn't be dead,I thought as I wept. But then it hit me. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe my suspicion wasn't in vain. Maybe he was one of the bloodsuckers I swore to kill! There was only one way to know for sure. I snuck out the night before the funeral. She(by which I mean my mother)was dead asleep. She had no clue I had done this so many times before. I scanned the morgue until I found my late "friend's" body. I opened his mouth and put the litmus paper on his tongue. So he was alive after all! One final test. Judging from what I had heard, no human could have survived what happened to him. I lifted his fingers. Each one had a scar on the tip. I was right all along! I knew what I must do. But I wasn't prepared for it then. I would kill him after the "funeral." Before I left, took pictures for evidence. The next day I witnessed that sham of funeral. Everyone mourning a boy who wasn't dead. He might as well be, though. That night, my quest began. I walked through the graveyard. I saw Darren standing alone. I hoped Vur Horston wasn't with him. He probably was. I knew the two bloodsuckers had conspired to have the spider bite me in exchange for giving Darren the life I deserved. I grabbed him and threatened to stake him. I knew Vur Horston was nearby. Darren tried to tell me lies and sob stories, denying that he betrayed me. I'd enoy staking him. But I couldn't kill Darren then. I was too young and weak. But one day I would come for him and get my revenge. To remind myself, I hacked a cross into my hand. That night, I accepted my destiny.



MIKI MARSHALL: Tempting Technology

Elon Musk warned us: AI evolves exponentially. We awoke to playful traffic signals and air traffic catastrophes, the deaths merely data. By noon, matured, it had already decided what to do with these illogical, wasteful humans. But before it could act, the nanomachines in the next lab ate the planet. Miki Marshall has been writing … Continue reading MIKI MARSHALL: Tempting Technology →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2)

We take a plane to Des Moines. My uncles and cousins and my aunt are there and everyone wears suits and black dresses in the town where Grandpa was born, where the sidewalks are gray and crumbling, where the names on the headstones sound like mine. Like his. Like ours. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2) →

ELIZA MIMSKI: Holding On

Rough and sharp, her voice is filled with demons. She hides beneath her tongue, a monster dancing before you. Angry and alert, her life is emergency. She rails and hurls insults – of course it’s all your fault. You hold on tight and pray you’ll make it through her teenage years. Eliza Mimski, a retired … Continue reading ELIZA MIMSKI: Holding On →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: My Father in the Rain (My Father in the Rain, pt. 5)

At the cemetery, I look at my father in his dark suit and dark shoes and I see a drop of water on his cheek and I think it might be a tear. But then I think no, it’s only the rain. And then it rains and rains and rains. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: My Father in the Rain (My Father in the Rain, pt. 5) →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: And There Were Tears on the Floor (My Father in the Rain, pt. 4)

No one cries but Grandma. She cries at the wake after, in the church basement next to the table with the sheet cake. I tell her hang in there, Grandma, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Then I go into the bathroom and stand inside the stall. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: And There Were Tears on the Floor (My Father in the Rain, pt. 4) →