Kyle Christopher
Bio
19 | writer, student, creator | @KyleCCreates on twitter and instagram
Stories (11)
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Vision
The stacks of papers on Sasha's desk were equally short, but equally daunting. On her left were the case reports: a plethora of stolen first aid kits; a pair of off-duty cops missing two pairs of handcuffs; and one drunken camper's sighting of a deer that was “like a zombie,” and “had marbles for eyes.”
By Kyle Christopher4 years ago in Horror
Alt Hallows' Eve
After the terrifying times we've been living through as of late, this Halloween season feels different. Cheesy horror movies and plastic bats suddenly don't seem so scary when you're living through a global pandemic. Wearing zombie and vampire masks feels a little surreal after having to wear medical masks for a year and a half. Even with the usual Halloween festivities becoming viable again, it all feels a little... off.
By Kyle Christopher4 years ago in Horror
As the Light Turns
On the ancient, boxy TV screen, my brother-in-law awoke on the edge of a four-way intersection. The concrete beneath him was soaked in blood. He felt around his body for injuries, but there were none. A short, red trail behind him pointed towards two cars that were crushed up like wads of paper. One was his silver SUV, now with its nose accordioned flat and its windshield blown out. The traffic light above his head cast a crimson glimmer over the shiny wreckage. The light didn’t appear like it would turn for some time.
By Kyle Christopher4 years ago in Fiction
Bullfight
An hour ago, IW-666 and I were in the barracks, waiting for our turn to slaughter or be slaughtered like livestock. His razor hummed like bees returning to their hive. Clumps of his body hair floated to the ground like coffee-colored leaves. I seem to find the past in all these little details, but when I search for the future in the same spots, I come up empty.
By Kyle Christopher4 years ago in Fiction
When to Let The Little Things Go
I never thought myself to be the sentimental type, but sweeping through my home town one last time is making me reconsider my connection to physical things. There’s a certain melancholic comfort in reaching out and touching something that’s been in your life forever, or driving down a road you’ve driven hundreds of times before. I can’t pretend like leaving it all behind is easy. But I feel like I have to, because if I don’t, the end of it all might actually start to get to me.
By Kyle Christopher4 years ago in Fiction
Leave Your Love at The Gate
The bulletins made it very clear, as did the pamphlets, and the line-maintenance drones, and the few human personnel on-duty: all emotional contraband must be discarded before Package holders could clear the Passover Gate and board the train. What precisely constituted “emotional contraband” was vaguely defined, but Ayla understood it to mean “any object that carries deep sentimental and/or emotional value for its owner.” She had purged her luggage of all possessions that fit this description, save for one.
By Kyle Christopher5 years ago in Fiction
