It’s all that Mary can take just to care for her Mother, and now her brother Billy is becoming dangerously unstable. But like vultures encircling a dying animal, there are others who wish to prey on the vulnerability of the unfortunate Greer family with the most devious of intentions, leaving Mary as the fulcrum shouldering the weight of a scale of wanton chaos. A feverish venture of terror and upheaval, this is the story of Evelyn’s children.
Word Count: 31,325
Page Count: 123
Jim Johanson is a writer of suspenseful stories of terror, science fiction and philosophical intrigue who espouses an appreciation for new, unrecycled ideas and the bizarre places where those ideas lead.
Also by Jim Johanson:
Food for Thought
And what becomes of those people who refuse to succumb to starvation, but also refuse to take part in a Machiavellian corporation's desire to reign supreme over the sources of human nourishment?
In Food for Thought, a collective of hackers and ecoterrorists find an exploit in Agritecture's plan, though in doing so manage to cause potentially irrevocable harm to themselves in the process, resulting in a climactic battle of the individuals' souls versus the oppression of the conglomerate.
37 pages, 9284 words
Reaching for an escape from the monotony of her world, Kara stumbles backward into her mind to find that the window to another existence is open. Fear abounds when Kara climbs through and learns that it may be more difficult to find a pathway back home.
Kara's eyes closed lightly. Her eyelids felt like feathers resting on her face. As her eyes inevitably closed fully, she felt a sensation to which she was unaccustomed. The typical, lonely feeling of closed eyes that she dreaded every night when she forced herself to attempt sleep, was not to be found.
There was only a calming feeling of solace in the warmth that washed over her face. The serenity of warmth incarnate permeated even the light between her eyes and her shuttered eyelids. The feeling was welcoming and fully encompassing, and soon she was overtaken and enraptured in the experience, a willing participant in something greater than herself.
The muscles of her hands, usually compulsively tight and wrought with anxiety, began to relax. Kara allowed the head of her wine glass to rest between her breasts. A tiny bit of red wine overflowed onto her chest and dipped slowly downward to her navel where it pooled, appearing like blood seeping from a cesarean section.