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Our first real submission :) I will figure out a better way to acce[t them sometime soon.

 Submitted by Wendy: I can barely walk. Putting one foot in front of the other takes about all I have. So tired, weak, and disoriented, I perceive what is directly in front of me as if through a veil of thick mucus. The world is dim and unfocused. Wait, something is flashing red, insistently, at the far-right corner of my vision. Instinctively, I turn toward it, and I am instantly rewarded. I see some movement, and I hear a commotion and voices. I decided to aim my stumble over there, where the action is. Something is telling me I somehow made this happen. I made the red light lead me, so I follow it mindlessly through this maze of fog. I am reminded of an experiment I saw in a documentary featuring a flying beetle. It had been glued to the head of a stationary pin. Electrodes had been inserted into its simple nervous system. By activating one or another of the electrodes, the beetle would attempt to turn towards the stimulus, flapping its useless wings harder or softer depending u...
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Shitty Excerpt:

 Foremost in my mind was the fact I was dope-sick. There was another insistent pressing matter building in intensity to be taken care of before I could get well.  I am not a puker. I am a shitter. When I am dope-sick, I am an everlasting fountain of filth. Hauser knows this about me. I assumed his witnessing of my tormented face was why he motioned to the shadowed corner of the room behind him, indicating a hall stretching into the home somewhere beyond the vanishing point, and said, "Second door on the left." I shuffled and shambled in what, to me, was observed as an infinitely slow progression, wherein my range of motion was limited due to cramps. I tried desperately to make it to the bathroom quickly while at the same time being careful in my movements, endeavoring to, for now, at least, constrain my bowels. I am sure Hauser saw all of this only as a momentary blur of motion, if he noticed it at all. Eventually, I made it down the hall and into the aforementioned room, for...
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Fragment: Wasteland

...I asked Jane, the lovely January Susan Hauser, to sit with me on the widow's walk so we could let the smoke-scented wind waft over our weary selves. Jane knew what it was to enter someone's story mid-way through. Nothing of what then happened made any sense to her. There was no chance to ask questions… She wasn't in any shape for explanations anyway. She stopped. What was that she had just read? She went back and stared at it in disbelief. My belated Valentine’s Day gift to her was an enamel pin featuring a field of Poppies. I had carried this token with me in my front pocket for years. Now, I knew who I had subconsciously intended it for. It had gone on a long march through time and space with me. I discovered it pinned to a telephone pole one lonely April Fools' Day. Spring is cruel. Poppies are a beautiful flower. Winter makes them fertile only in the following Summer. They spend an entire year as juveniles, a lifetime for many other plants. It is not until after ...
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