Forgotten

by Andrew Buford


"No," he begged, kneeling bloody at her feet. "You can’t! They’ll look for me; my mother, father, brother, and my friends. They’ll find you, and they'll kill you if you kill me." She laughed like a shrieking ghost. At his parents' house, on the fireplace, there stood a gold-framed picture of their only son.

The Memories of Our Fathers

by Andrew Buford


They removed the massive stone seal from the hole, and they stared into that strange pit they found in the cavern. It was pitch black, with no discernable bottom. Like hands from the past, apprehension grabbed them all. Their hearts raced wildly. They say genetic memory doesn’t exist, but why could they remember that fear?

First Words

by Andrew Buford

It was dark, and he was alone. He floated for what seemed like forever. But forever isn't the correct term. Forever is a measurement of time, and time had yet to be created. Always he was speechless, trying to think of the right thing to say. His first words. "Let there be light" he whispered.

Addition, Subtraction

by Andrew Buford


He wore a cloak of pure darkness. A bubbling menagerie of all the things you've ever feared bound into a garment.

He wrote names in the book on his left with a quill of bright, shining gold. He laughed.

"Two million born," he croaked, "I counted each head. But someday soon it's two million dead."