by Jason Jordan


And the sun turns red, painting Earth the color of blood, and all buildings implode, scattering clouds of dust over the cities, and all roads crack and crumble, and all water turns to ashes, and all florae burst into flames, and all faunae combust, and most, though not all, humans transform into beings that are not human yet are not alien, and there are the two brothers, unchanged, there, on that city street, and because the street can no longer support vehicles, the brothers exit their car, unsure of what is happening, though the sights do unnerve them, and they open the trunk and remove a 12 gauge and a .38 revolver, along with several boxes of ammunition, and the brothers load their respective firearms, these gifts from their father, and once they have secured the car, because perhaps everything will return to normal someday, they set off toward their original destination, expecting resistance along the way, and yes, here she comes, a woman, who has morphed into a creature that is neither human nor alien, who has left her vehicle unattended, is stumbling toward them, a yellow liquid pouring from her orifices, and the brothers take aim, not yet concentrating on the wall of dust approaching from downtown, and later, when they have weathered the elements, they will gaze into the night sky, where they will see no moon, for it has turned black, and though they cannot see it, they will know it is there, like God.


Pestilence, by Jason Jordan

A short book of short stories.

Print: $9.99

Ebook: $4.99

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