Graveyard Shift

by M.L. Rio

It’s frighteningly easy to get lost in your own subconscious; any place you think you know is different after dark.

“Saint Anthony’s Fire. It was a sort of medieval epidemic. Caused gangrene and hallucinations and made people feel like they were being burned alive.”

“Mycology, really. Saint Anthony’s Fire was just another name for ergot poisoning.”

“‘C. burranicum is an endemic species—it doesn’t grow anywhere else,’ according to sophomore biology major Wes Tucker, who was forced to leave his room on the fourth floor of Coblin Hall. ‘Killing it would be like, mycological genocide.’”

“I’m one of your lab rats, Tom. I’m the ghost of lab rats past.” He went still, stopped struggling. Hannah blew a kiss in his ear. “Honey, do you remember me now?” What a charming name they gave it. Project Honeydew. That must have been Heather’s idea. She had the same cold, sticky sweetness. She insisted everyone call her Heather, not Dr. Lockley. Even slippery little rats like Hannah.