Korp's profile

I. my fingers left me today. i suppose they had gotten fed up with my antics. they never did explain properly. it was this morning when they jumped off my hands. they looked like miniature sausages, and i briefly entertained the notion of eating them. but i am not a cannibal. i went into the kitchen where my wife was cooking pancakes. she said, "good morning, dear," and pecked me on the cheek. she has always looked like a bird. i said "good morning" back. and then i inform...

I. my fingers left me today. i suppose they had gotten fed up with my antics. they never did explain properly. it was this morning when they jumped off my hands. they looked like miniature sausages, and i briefly entertained the notion of eating them. but i am not a cannibal. i went into the kitchen where my wife was cooking pancakes. she said, "good morning, dear," and pecked me on the cheek. she has always looked like a bird. i said "good morning" back. and then i inform...

You wake with a start. You sit up in bed, pajamas sticking to your clammy skin. This is the third night in a row nightmares have interrupted your sleep. You're breathing heavily. There's no way you can go back to sleep until you've cleared your mind of fear. You grab the remote control from your nightstand. Let's see what's on. Channel 4: The Monster That Ate Maple Street "My god... it's devouring our livelihood!" "There's no way to stop it. It's unstoppable!" "Not unstoppable, Douglas. Every...

You wake with a start. You sit up in bed, pajamas sticking to your clammy skin. This is the third night in a row nightmares have interrupted your sleep. You're breathing heavily. There's no way you can go back to sleep until you've cleared your mind of fear. You grab the remote control from your nightstand. Let's see what's on. Channel 4: The Monster That Ate Maple Street "My god... it's devouring our livelihood!" "There's no way to stop it. It's unstoppable!" "Not unstoppable, Douglas. Every...

To my friends at the Ashur police department: If Timothy Weaver ever told the truth, it was a half-truth, and Tim Weaver didn't tell the truth often. Asked where Weaver had acquired his extraordinary aptitude for skewing reality, most people would say something like, "His parents didn't teach him right from wrong," or "He's got a demon in'im." Neither were true: the fact was, he simply enjoyed lying. In Weaver's mind, the thrill, however brief, that came from deceiving someone was incomparabl...