shallon gregerson
Bio
I conspire, create and love making my mind think
Stories (67)
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Johnson Hall
Austin swore it had only been another ten minutes when they last checked, but the GPS had stopped updating miles ago, the screen frozen like it had given up trying to place them anywhere real. The mountains sat low on the horizon, dull and unmoving, like a painted backdrop.
By shallon gregerson2 days ago in Horror
Reguarding Your Car
I want to begin by saying I’m sorry about your car. I understand that, at a basic level, it is frustrating to come outside in the morning and find that your vehicle is no longer in the exact condition—or location—you left it in. That’s completely fair. I take responsibility for the initial incident, which, to be clear, was a minor misjudgment on my part while moving it a short distance.
By shallon gregerson2 days ago in Humor
The Last Message
By the time she noticed the message, it was already too late to matter. It had come in at 2:17 a.m. She saw the timestamp first, a gray, indifferent number sitting above the unread bubble. The phone had been on silent, face down on the nightstand, where she’d left it after deciding—firmly, finally—that she wasn’t going to check it again.
By shallon gregerson2 days ago in Fiction
Between the 7 and 8
The discrepancy begins with the number seven. Calder notices it at 6:59 a.m., though later he will doubt the accuracy of that recollection, because certainty requires numerical trust, and numerical trust is precisely what has begun to erode.
By shallon gregersonabout a month ago in Fiction
