Evan Quinlan

Archive for October, 2017|Monthly archive page


In Base Twelve Drabbles, Fiction, Short Stories on October 31, 2017 at 5:12 pm

On Halloween night I left my dormitory and walked to the northwest edge of campus, where the forest grew thickly around a narrow, inward path. Having no light, I followed it in total darkness, having promised myself to persist until the first crossroads. My imagination painted horrors on a black canvas; fear pounded at my breast, but I pushed on, for my self-sacrifice to this October evening could not be rescinded. When at last I found another dark path running perpendicular to my own, I hesitated in spite of myself. What, I supposed, could be more frightening than retreat? What possible malevolence could await to justify cowardice when I had already endured so much? And so, with a nod to the demons lurking out of sight, and bidding the crossroads a pleasant All Hallow’s Eve, I followed that road deeper into the inky wood.