He started breathing too fast, too loud, like a pulsing scream as 
invisible razors seemed to be sliding along his arms, leaving a 
dotted line of blood. He couldn't feel the cuts, just feel the blood pour 
and pulse. He started screaming, turning around, shaking his arms, 
trying to make it stop, or find the source, or something. He ran 
upstairs, blood dripping and smearing the walls as he fell, screaming 
for help, of the doctor, or anybody as he ran outside in to the icy 
night air. 


He ran, all the houses dark, pounding on a neighbors door and 
crying for help, moaning as he felt blood start to weep and pour hotly 
along his chest. He started crying, eyes getting hazy with blood, as 
he looked for something, someone to help. Suddely, he heard a 
noise, a deep rumble...a car engine. The park across the street... 


He could see headlights. 


He ran, screaming, feeling the cuts open up rivers of blood along his 
legs, his back, his lips...he gagged as his mouth welled up with 
coppery blood. He ran, and ran, watching the headlights grow 
bigger, seeing the shape of a parked van swim up through the 
darkness. He cried and yelled, waving his arms, half-blind and dizzy, 


feeling more floaty and light headed by the second. 
He didn't even see the river until he'd hit the water. 
Unknown body recovered from park 


Police recovered a body from Island Park early this 
morning. The corpse was spotted by a early-morning 
Jogger, lodged in a drainage pipe. Due to the recent 
rains, the river was very high and fast-flowing, and it 
appears that the body suffered grievous damage from 
rocks and wood during its travel. Police are currently 
trying to determine the identity of the body, and to 
ascertain whether accident or foul play led to the body 
entering the river. The extreme damage, however, is 
complicating both these goals. Persons having any 
information regarding this incident are encourage to 
contact the police. 


Mad Love 


Have you ever loved someone? 


Not that family love, or devotion...but real, blind love. | don't think 
people know how dangerous real, true love is. Love will make you 
do great things, but it can also make you do terrible, terrible things. 
You'll lie, cheat, steal, sell out your best friend, your family... 
yourself, all for the hope, just the hope, that it will make the object of 
your love happy. Just the hope. 


| met her after high school. I'd known her during, but never got up 
the gumption to ask her out. One day, we both happened to be 
visiting the same friends...we got talking...there it was. It was like a 
fever. | felt sick with love, that kind of warm self-destructive burn that 
you get in the grip of a sickness. It's unpleasant, yes...but 
comforting, too. It took me three months to say | loved her. | think 
she knew from the first second | saw her. | kissed her for the first 
time after helping her take out her trash. Or, rather, she kissed me. | 
felt like I'd been hit by a bus, and | wanted it to happen again. 


Do you always mean what you say, when you talk to your loved 
ones? Honestly, do you? Think about it. How often do you say “! 
love you” to fill up space. How often do you say “we'll always be 
together” more to quiet fears than as a deep expression of caring. | 
told her | would do anything for her, that | would give everything | 
had to be with her, always. We'd just made love the first time, on her 
mother's living room floor, while watching Nosferatu, of all things. 
I've still never seen the end of that movie. 


| meant it, when | said it. | felt it, like swallowing a small stone, a 
weight inside me. | would do anything for her. 


We'd moved out, gotten an apartment...then her mother got sick. 
She had to be admitted...needed an expensive treatment. My love 
was nearly catatonic with worry. We were hysterically poor. | told her 
that I'd get the money, somehow. I'd work all | could, do odd jobs, 


and make her mom ok. | worked two jobs on the week, three on the 
weekend. Went on three hours of sleep, then one, then none. | felt 
dead inside, a hollow whistling in my soul where sleep and 
exhaustion waited to claw me in to a pit...yet on | went. Shambling, 
broken, eyes black and puffy, | got the money. The moment | 
handed it to her, | fell to the ground, gave myself a mild concussion, 
and slept for three days. 


She started to worry about me, more and more. Said | worked too 
much, too hard. It felt like a knife in the eardrum to let her down, dry- 
shaving with a rusted nail was preferable to failing her. She asked 
me, begged me to stop...but | saw in her eyes her love. She knew 
why | did it, pushed too much, so hard. Despite her fear, she 
accepted this sacrifice of myself. If bills ate up the food budget, | 
would not eat for weeks, until we were recovered. If we lacked for 
gas, or the car broke down, | would walk to wherever was needed, 
never mind the wind, cold, rain...pain. 


| was walking when | got hit by the car. | think she'll never totally 
forgive herself for that. | was exhausted, dead on my feet, but 
walking quickly to work, when | didn't see a sign...or someone 
ignored it. | only realized my mistake when the grill collapsed four 
ribs. By the time | really digested the situation, | was dead, neck 
shattered and twisted, limbs replaced with lead. 


All | could hear, or see, was her, laying naked on her scratchy 
carpet, tears in her eyes, listening to me tell her that | would always 
love her, be with her, do anything for her. 


That | would never leave her alone. 


| don't know how | got home. | fell a lot, leaving abstract snow 
angels in my wake. | stopped bleeding a little bit before home, the 
gore solidifying on my skin in the cold. My bones crackled and 
ground like a box of gravel, but | kept on, gritting my teeth until they 
cracked. She was, | think, understandably horrified when | fell in the 
doorway, landing like a frozen slab of meat. Which, | guess, | was. 
We had a rough few days. She kept wanting me to go to the doctor, 
and | kept telling her | don't think that would help. When she felt for 
my pulse, she finally stopped asking. 


It took forever to figure things out. We got my bones and such in to 
more or less alright shape...called in to work, took all my vacation 
time, trying to think. Looking back, it was horribly simple, but it's not 
like you get a manual. | told her what | thought, and she was...upset, 
to say the least. | talked her around to it, over time. She wouldn't 
look me in the eye when | left, though. 


It never gets easier. My flesh was ruined, but my will remains. Still, 
will can't knit together bone, or zip up skin. It hurts so much, every 
time. The...failing bits, the rotten ones, are...pushed out. If I'm lucky, 
it's just like throwing up or having diarrhea. More often, everything 
just...presses out through the skin, before it heals. You'd be amazed 
how much the body breaks down, when it can't just heal. Still, 
seeing her smile...knowing that | can keep my promise another day, 
another week...it makes it alright. Barely. 


So, you understand that, when | do this, it's not because I'm some 
greedy monster. It's not a...hunger, or anything, it's just what | have 
to do, to keep going. Keep my promise. | don't even taste the flesh, 
it's just...neutral, like solid water or something. | am sorry, really...if 
there was another way, I'd be doing it. But...it has to be human, and 
alive. I've tried all the other ways, and it doesn't work. Please, just... 
don't cry, I'm a sucker for crying, and if you start, then I'll start, and 
my tears are...bitter, and taste wretched. I'll try and make it quick, 
sorry for talking so much...| Know the rope must hurt. 


| just...don't get out much anymore...just work and home. | love her 
so much, it's so great...but...this is my only real time alone, you 
know? | can see you love someone too...so you know. You'd be in 
my place too, if that's what it took. | promised her, and I'll Keep that 
promise forever. Your body will help me keep that promise. I'll try 
and make it fast. 


Love makes us all monsters, eventually. 


Try and go limp, or it'll hurt more when | bite muscle. 


Sa Jin Photo 


| was stationed overseas for four years, helping shore up the 
American military presence in South Korea. You hear horror stories 
about it, about people being shot randomly, the squalid conditions, 
but it really wasn't all that bad. Still, it's another world, without a 
doubt. The culture is so...different. Values, ideals, it all feels topsy- 
turvy. You get adjusted, but it takes time. Early in my tour, | was 
sitting telling a few buddies about my “adventures” about town. I'd 
mentioned passing what looked like a old house, with about ten or 
twenty little girls lounging or playing around the front, and asked if it 
was a orphanage, or just one very productive family. 


Everyone goggled at me, then burst in to laughter. They said it 
wasn't anything close to that. It was a brothel. They said that, most 
often it was more boys than girls, and that some people would pay a 
great, great deal for them. What's more, none of the locals would 
dare touch them, as most had some kind of bug or another. Most 
didn't live much past twenty, if that. | was kind of taken aback...it's 
one of those things you hear about, but never really see. One guy, 
Jason, got up and went to his bunk for a minute, then came back 
with a old picture. 


He said that, years ago, on his first tour, his captain had wanted to 
“show him the sights”, after getting his entire squad rip-roaring 
drunk. They hit several dive bars and strip joints, he said it was kind 
of a blur. Anyway, they ended up in front of a whore house that had 
several...underage workers. The squad, very drunk and high, were 
egging on him and one of the other new guys named David to go 
inside. The owner was actually out on a balcony, waving and 
grinning. The kids looked much less then excited. 


Jason freaked out, ended up basically balling up in an alley, head 
spinning, belly heaving, and trying to tune out his squad teasing him. 
David, however, went in. He didn't see it, but everyone said he could 
barely walk, the owner almost dragged him in. American money is 


very, very welcome, even more so when the holder of it is too 
wasted to know if any gets stolen. They waited for a while, but 
ended up basically drifting off as people started to sober up, got 
sick, or attempted to get trashed again. They left David inside, and 
Jason curled up against a cold brick wall. 


He woke up there in the morning, feeling insanely sick and sore as 
hell. He ended up pucking his guts out right against the wall, re- 
tasting the rank local brew. He stumbled out in to the street, feeling 
around in his gear bag and being shocked that nothing was stolen. 
He ended up bumbling out to the front of the same whorehouse they 
sent David in to. It was all closed up, and looked almost abandoned, 
but he could see some movement inside, still. Jason said it actually 
scared him, but he felt so sick he ended up basically falling on to a 
set of steps to just let his hangover try to lessen. 


It was while he was sitting that the girl came out. She was young, 
maybe...ten or so. She was wearing a old, ratty dress, one of those 
big floor-length things. She was also covered in grime and blood. 
She just came out, stumbling down the steps, a blank look on her 
face, walking like a sleepwalker. Jason stared, but it was like she 
was invisible, nobody else even looked at her, just walked around 
her like she wasn't there when she stumbled out in to the street. Her 
eyes were big and glassy, dark, her hair was oily and plastered to 
her face. And not one person so much as looked down. 


Jason said he was on the edge of freaking out, but everyone acting 
so...casual about the whole thing actually helped keep him on a 
even keel. He did dig in his pack, producing a camera he'd meant to 
use for taking pictures to send home, and got ready to snap a 
picture. He to this day says he doesn't really understand why. 
Maybe he thought he could show it to the police, or something... 
maybe just the morbid interest people have in the horrific that makes 
people slow down at car crashes. Who knows. 


He was aiming the camera when the worms came. 


He says they were worms, but they could have been anything. 
Thick, gooey ropes of...something, fleshy and rippling, suddenly 
jetted from her mouth and from under her dress. She looked around, 
looking almost...embarrassed, hands flexing helplessly in the air as 


these white tubes of flesh started to coil and writhe on the ground, 
pouring from her body like vomit in a seeming endless line. She was 
in the middle of a sidewalk, on a busy day, with two massive worms 
erupting out of her mouth and from...somewhere under her dress. 


And not one person seemed to care. 


Some people actually looked at her now, but...it was like they were 
seeing a bird in the street, or a windblown sheet of paper. Nobody 
cared, not one. These...things came out of her as she hunched up 
like an animal, these huge worms slithering along the sidewalk and 
starting to slip down a filthy drain, and nobody could be bothered to 
care. Jason said he didn't even remember snapping the picture, he 
just stood there, horrified, stunned silent. 


After about...two minutes, three men in what looked like police 
uniforms came, and the crowd thinned out fast. Two grabbed the 
girl, who started thrashing around, silently, drops of grime and bits of 
slime from the worms splattering around. The third man stomped on 
the worms until they split, then started screaming at Jason while the 
other two men dragged the girl and the stubs of the worms off and 
down the street. He got in a ton of trouble, his captain was 
discharged...David was listed AWOL. 


Thinking back, he now knows the men who grabbed her weren't 
police, military, paramedics...he can't place their uniforms with any 
local services. He said he's never found the whorehouse she came 
out of, even after looking for several weeks. Asking the locals gets 
blank stares or people who assume you're fucking around. He let 
me keep the picture...not really sure why | wanted it. He ended up 
getting shot by some guy in a bar a few years after he told me all 
this. 


| still wonder what the hell is going on in this picture. 


Breaker 19 


| don't know if this is really a creepy story, but it scared the shit out 
of me at the time. 


Four years ago, | was going through training for over-the-road 
trucking. We were out in Oregon, getting my night hours in. My 
trainer told me to be careful, because this stretch of road was long, 
boring, and empty. We gassed up, and he said to just put the cruise 
on, because without it you'd creep up to 70 or 80, and feel like you 
were doing 40. This was around...one, two in the morning, and 
pretty soon my trainer was in a half-doze next to me, with me 
fighting off the same. 


There was NOTHING on this road. Flat, straight, with some trees 
about ten yards off to each side, it was like being on another planet. 
| didn't see another car for nearly a hour. My trainer would pry an 
eye open to check my speed and make sure | hadn't hit anything 
important from time to time, but | was pretty much alone. | didn't 
mind, really, but the radio didn't even really come in, and I'd 
forgotten to put my CDs in the cab. Even a mildly creepy road can 
get boring after a while. 


| was getting ready to nudge my trainer awake when | saw 
something by the road. It was a long ways off, and | thought it might 
be a deer or something. | started slowing down, checking the sides, 
trying to see if there were any more. A big rig can hit a deer without 
a ton of problems, but it's a holy mess, and can be a bitch to fix if 
they crack something important. As we got closer, | saw it wasn't a 
deer, it was a person.