Excerpt

Why a Real Zombie Apocalypse Would Probably Fail
They’re the living dead. Our nightmares wrapped in rotting flesh. Brain-hungry monsters that shuffle through our favorite shows and movies like they own the place.
By Areeba Umairabout 2 hours ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 14.
In late March 2020, New York City began to drown. The number of COVID-19 patients surged with terrifying speed. Each day, more than three hundred new patients were admitted to hospitals across the city. Ambulances howled endlessly through the streets, their sirens piercing the air day and night, racing from one emergency to the next. Their cries became the soundtrack of a city under siege.
By Petera day ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 13.
When the COVID-19 pandemic descended with merciless speed, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention—known to most of us simply as the CDC—finally released its first official public guidance. Citizens were instructed to wash their hands frequently, using soap and water for at least twenty seconds. Not a casual rinse, but a deliberate ritual: palms rubbing palms, fingers interlaced, nails scrubbed, the narrow spaces between fingers carefully cleansed. Foam, they emphasized, was essential. Soap bubbles could penetrate and disrupt the virus’s fragile outer layer, rendering it inactive and stripping it of its ability to infect.
By Petera day ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 12.
I woke early that morning—not because I had work to go to, and not because I had anything urgent to do—but because fear had stolen the night from me.
By Peter2 days ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 11.
We stayed home to avoid the virus—not to avoid hunger. No matter how dangerous the world outside became, the body still demanded its daily tribute. Food was not optional. It was the quiet law of survival, older than fear, older than disease.
By Peter2 days ago in Fiction
I Pretended to Be Strong So My Child Wouldn’t Worry. AI-Generated.
The hardest part of being a parent is not the work. It’s the pretending. Not pretending to love your child—because that part is easy. Love comes naturally. It grows quietly in the spaces between bedtime stories, school lunches, and small conversations about homework.
By Jenny 2 days ago in Fiction
We Never Said It Out Loud, But We Were Struggling. AI-Generated.
There was a time when our apartment looked normal from the outside. The lights were on every evening. Dinner was cooked most nights. Our child laughed while watching cartoons in the living room. Sometimes we even joked with each other about small things—burnt rice, forgotten groceries, a misplaced phone charger.
By Jenny 2 days ago in Fiction
My Child Is the Reason I Keep Going. AI-Generated.
The alarm rings every morning at 5:30. For a few seconds, I lie still in the dark, staring at the ceiling. My body feels heavy, as if sleep has glued me to the bed. Outside the window, the city is quiet, caught in that brief moment before the first subway trains begin rumbling beneath the streets.
By Jenny 2 days ago in Fiction
I Smile in Public, and Collapse in Private. AI-Generated.
The first thing people notice about me is my smile. It’s the kind of smile that makes customers feel comfortable, coworkers feel relaxed, and strangers think everything in my life must be going just fine.
By Jenny 2 days ago in Fiction
Every Dollar Means a Little More Safety. AI-Generated.
At 5:30 a.m., the alarm rang like a small emergency in the darkness. I opened my eyes before the second beep. For a few seconds, I didn’t move. The room was still. The faint blue light of early morning slipped through the curtains and rested quietly on the wall.
By Jenny 2 days ago in Fiction
I Had No Way Back. AI-Generated.
The alarm rang at 5:10 a.m., the same shrill sound that had dragged me out of sleep for the past eight years. For a moment I lay still in the darkness, staring at the cracked ceiling above my bed. Outside, the city was quiet in that brief hour before the morning rush. Somewhere far away, a truck rumbled. Pipes in the building clanked softly.
By Jenny 2 days ago in Fiction
I Took a Job I Never Imagined — And It Changed Me . AI-Generated.
The job offer came on a gray afternoon that felt exactly like every other afternoon of that difficult year. I remember staring at the email on my phone while sitting on a bench outside a grocery store.
By Peter2 days ago in Fiction