Flaptekst

Man woke on the floor of an unfamiliar living room. He couldn't remember how he got there. In fact, he couldn't remember anything.


I was protecting something. I think.


Man winced when he stood up. His head was really killing him. He went out the shattered front door, and started his long search for... something.


-¿Nathaniel Lambert, Chapter 34 is Another Flashback





555 stories. 55 words each. 5 minutes to live. Wait, what?


NOW YOU FUCKED UP


Explore the surreal, the horrific, and the absurd in this compilation of short-short stories by eleven of the best entertainers in the indie press community. With so many stories to choose from, there's something for everyone* to love.


The first in a series of five such collections, 555 Vol. 1 will force you to question the limits of storytelling.





*Except Jim. There's no pleasing Jim, and we have made no attempt to do so.





Ricardo peeled his face back like a banana peel and gently folded the weathered skin. A green motherboard whirred inside the contours of his face and lights flashed on and off. He fiddled with the central processing unit and something hissed. His mouth opened. Death is but a circuit board humming away into the night.


-Grant Wamack, Modern Ruins