Tag Archive for: Kristin Lennox

Send More Freegans

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by Kristin Lennox

Barry hated the term “dumpster diving”—he considered himself a “freegan” He was proud that almost everything he owned was scavenged from the trash.

Thigh-deep in the bin behind Rossi’s, Barry was only slightly creeped out by the sea of dismembered mannequins surrounding him. Finding the actual mangled corpse under a piece of cardboard, however, sent him into complete panic.

“I need police—” Barry’s phone went flying when the moulded forearm pierced his chest. He could only gurgle as plastic fingers prodded, and frozen mouths whispered, “Welcome…”

***

“Score!” Wally pocketed the phone, then climbed into the dumpster, searching for treasure…

Kristin Lennox

 

 

 

 

In Search of Monsters

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by Kristin Lennox

No one believed it existed.

After three seasons of “Cryptid Quest,” we could stretch strange noises and unexplained heat signatures into hour-long episodes; no actual creature required.

But that stench—not even my producer could have faked it. Then the howl that echoed through the Amazonian canopy…

The upside? I have Pulitzer-prize-winning footage, proof of the mythical Mapinguari: I kept filming as the one-eyed beast massacred the camp, disembowelling the crew with its sloth-like claws.

True, I’m bleeding out, but the camera’s still running—the creature just gave the lens a curious lick with the gaping mouth in its belly…

Kristin Lennox

 

 

 

 

The Last Patient

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by Kristin Lennox

Dr Shepherd gently covered the body, the sheet blossoming red over the eyes and mouth. Exhausted, he spoke into a hand-held recorder.

“Patient 47 entered end-stage I-GRID after experiencing continued seizure activity throughout the night. Death was rapid following complete organ failure.”

“This concludes the Thymenozine trials, as Patient 47 was our last viable participant.” The doctor slumped over the table, defeated.

A single tear slid down his cheek and splashed on the shroud, leaving a crimson stain. He touched it, then pressed record again:

“Patient 48 is a white male, 54 years of age, presenting with mid-stage I-GRID symptoms…”

 

Kristin Lennox

Kristin is delighted to have had several drabbles published by Black Hare Press. She’s also a voice actor, and when she’s not talking to herself in her padded room (home studio), she tries to get the voices out of her head and onto the page.

In Plain Sight

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by Kristin Lennox

Charlie peeked through the kitchen door: his mother was at the stove, humming, stirring a tantalising garlic tomato sauce, by the aroma. Sneaking up behind her, Charlie zapped her with the taser.

Duct-taped to a chair, the creature thrashed, flashing rapidly through forms like a vintage home movie: Charlie’s mother, Grandma Ruth, Mr Bradford from next-door… Charlie could feel tendrils probing his memories, searching for that one image that would earn his trust. He zapped the creature again–it sagged, caught somewhere between Aunt Louise and Weird Al.

“Know how I knew?” Charlie offered. “My mom can’t cook for shit.”

 

Kristin Lennox

Kristin is delighted to have had several drabbles published by Black Hare Press. She’s also a voice actor, and when she’s not talking to herself in her padded room (home studio), she tries to get the voices out of her head and onto the page.

Welcome Home

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by Kristin Lennox

Sid was neither fat nor claustrophobic, which made him the perfect burglar. His MO was to canvas a house, then slip into its walls at night, waiting for opportunity.

Wedged between chimney and air duct, Sid heard the promising sound of the door lock, followed by a retreating SUV.

Showtime.

Sid tried to sidle back the way he came…only to find his foot jammed firmly between some pipes.

Shit.

Six hours later, Sid resigned himself to the fact that he’d be discovered when the family returned.

He was. Unfortunately for Sid, it was after three amazing weeks in Yellowstone.

Kristin Lennox

Kristin is delighted to have had several drabbles published by Black Hare Press. She’s also a voice actor, and when she’s not talking to herself in her padded room (home studio), she tries to get the voices out of her head and onto the page.

Day Three

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by Kristin Lennox

The sun slunk over the horizon, blood-orange and violet flame, flooding the sandstone formations with morning majesty. Wind whispered across the still-grey canyon floor, rustling through dead grasses, around cactus silhouettes.

Jake never tired of the desert sunrise—O’Keeffe, come to life.

It’s gonna get so hot, though.

“Yeah, but it’s a dry heat,” said the cow skull, in a slow, Texas twang. It stared at Jake with its bleached eye sockets, half-buried in the sand. Jake laughed hoarsely, through cracked lips. “Good one,” he croaked.

Chucking his empty canteen, he left the weathered sentinel to trudge east this time.

Kristin Lennox

Kristin is delighted to have had several drabbles published by Black Hare Press. She’s also a voice actor, and when she’s not talking to herself in her padded room (home studio), she tries to get the voices out of her head and onto the page.

We All Scream

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by Kristin Lennox

“London Bridge is Falling Down…” The piping calliope music was faint, but it pulled Cindy from sleep.

Instead of pondering why the ice cream truck was trundling slowly through the neighbourhood in the dead of night, Cindy frantically scoured her bedroom for loose change.

Broke and dejected, she barely recognised her friend Hannah in the moonlight, accepting a double-scoop cone from a white-gloved hand. So lucky.

Such a waste, though, Cindy thought, as she discovered the cone in the street the next morning, upside down in a sticky puddle of mint chocolate chip…

…and a splash of bright raspberry swirl.

Kristin Lennox

Kristin is delighted to have had several drabbles published by Black Hare Press. She’s also a voice actor, and when she’s not talking to herself in her padded room (home studio), she tries to get the voices out of her head and onto the page.

 

Field Trip

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by  Kristin Lennox

I’d been looking forward to this tour for months. Every spring, Brookhaven Psychiatric Hospital opens its doors to the public, for PR purposes.

The facility was bright and welcoming on the surface. But a faint sour aroma lingered beneath the lemon-scented air, and the light jazz playing in the sunroom couldn’t quite drown out the occasional disturbing cry.

As the bus departed, I sat by myself, contemplating my visit. We passed through the iron gates, leaving Brookhaven and its mysteries behind…

…and I have about three hours until they discover the tourist I bludgeoned and stuffed into the broom closet.

 

Kristin Lennox

Kristin is delighted to have had several drabbles published by Black Hare Press. She’s also a voice actor, and when she’s not talking to herself in her padded room (home studio), she tries to get the voices out of her head and onto the page

 

YEAR FOUR

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YEAR FIVE

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