Home Is Where Your Loved One Is

"Honey, I'm home!" I shouted gleefully as I left the keys on the table.

Christine welcomed me seating, as always, in her armchair.

"What did you cook today?" I asked, laughing at my own joke. 

She hadn't cook of course - she never cooked. She kept looking at me expressionlessly.


My back is frozen and I can hear distant sounds of voices. 

I can sense a dull light above my closed eyes. 

Someone orders to give him the scalpel with a steady, heavy voice and I start to panic. 

Not All Monsters Live Under Your Bed

If there was anything common among the stories of all the children Mark had taught over the last twenty-two years, it was the monsters hiding under their beds or in their closets.

It had become a tradition on the Halloween Eve, instead of the same boring exercises of arithmetic or grammar, to assign them to draw the monsters that were stalking them, in an attempt to exorcise their fears.

Behind The Walls

Natalie opened her eyes, awoken by the low sounds that echoed through the wall.

Three short strokes, one short and two long, three more short and one long. 
She stood upright on the edge of her bedroom, feeling shivers down her spine.


Among the hundreds of numbers stations that are lost in the shortwave lies Grim.

The most well-established conspiracy theories can not explain its existence and its transmissions - it does not belong to any secret spy network, nor does it seem to transfer orders to military forces operating in different parts of the world. 

Grim was baptized so by two radio amateurs, somewhere in the mid-1990s and his name is due to his odd, eerie content. 

Eternal Consciousness

I remember very little from the time I had a body.

I was one of the seven billion creatures inhabiting a trivial, blue planet that rotated around a small yellow star, somewhere in Orion's Arm.

I search my memory files and I find that, according to how they measured the time there and then, I was born in 2010.


  Όταν έφυγε και ο τελευταίος συγγενής, ο Σαμ έπεσε ξεθεωμένος στο κρεβάτι. Απέμεινε ακίνητος, φορώντας ακόμα το κοστούμι του και παρακολουθώντας τις κηλίδες που είχε δημιουργήσει η υγρασία στις γωνίες του ταβανιού της κρεβατοκάμαρας, με το μυαλό του να σκέφτεται τα πάντα και τίποτα.

  Έξω υπήρχε απόλυτη ησυχία – μόνο το χουχούτισμα μιας μοναχικής κουκουβάγιας έσπαγε την παγωμένη σιωπή της νοεμβριάτικης νύχτας. Ακόμα και ο άνεμος, που όλη την περασμένη εβδομάδα ούρλιαζε μανιασμένος, τώρα έμοιαζε να κρατάει την ανάσα του, σαν ένδειξη σεβασμού στην απώλειά του.