Kevin McLaughlin
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Achievements (1)
Stories (17)
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The Routine. Content Warning.
My eyes burst open. I’m covered in sweat. My wife sleeps soundly beside me. I creep out of bed and shower, viciously scrubbing my skin raw. I pull on socks, some slacks, a belt, a button-down shirt, and a tie. Downstairs, my wife, still in her pajamas, has made a pot of coffee. I pour the coffee into the same mug I’ve been using every day for the past decade and kiss her good-bye.
By Kevin McLaughlin2 years ago in Horror
Somewhere Only We Know. Runner-up in Travel Snaps Challenge.
Throughout my six-month post-college-graduation Europe backpacking trip, there were whispers about the best hostel ever. “It was so cozy,” a starry-eyed backpacker exclaimed. “It felt like coming home,” another backpacker sighed. “It’s got a dog,” another promised. However, no one could pronounce the name of the town it was in, and few people even remembered the name of the hostel.
By Kevin McLaughlin2 years ago in Wander
Standing Still. Top Story - May 2024.
There are very few moments in life where time truly stands still. When your breath is taken from your chest and your body hangs weightless in that moment. Just long enough for it to stay with you from that day onwards. Deep in the red sands of the Australian Outback, I found that moment and clung to it forever.
By Kevin McLaughlin2 years ago in Wander
The Old Wood
It is safest to keep to the old paths that wind their way beneath the canopy of the Old Wood. Those trails are left behind by the deer and foxes that carve their way through the underbrush in patterns unseen. For the animals only tread where the trees let them, whispering to them, guiding them through the maze. Straying from these paths and you may find yourself at the mercy of woods, timeless and unforgiving.
By Kevin McLaughlin2 years ago in Fiction
Circadian
I wake up, blinking awareness back into my mind. Sunlight filters through the windows; an undeserved kiss of warmth on my skin. The room is unfamiliar. This bed is not my own; it’s different, soft, comforting. Regret ebbs into my stomach, the sweet, dreaming body beside me is a stranger to me. A face I can't recall. I get up to leave, hoping not to wake them. For them it can still be a dream, for me I know this vicious cycle will repeat. Over and over until it kills me.
By Kevin McLaughlin3 years ago in Fiction
