Here Comes the Sun (three short-shorts)

by Leon Caluzzi

Here Comes the Sun

The Wendigo

“Legends say that men go crazy on this here mount’n. They say that when you go hungry enough the trees speak to you, whisper’n things in your ear. They whisper bout’ your deepest, darkest desire. Their branches reach out to you, like a mother to her crawlin’ baby. They change you, strip you down. And I ain’t just talkin’ bout’ clothes. They strip down your mind, they refine your feelins’ to a bare minimum. No remorse, no regret, no nothin’. The trees turn you to perfect killin’ machines. The cannibal wendigo. If you look at wendigo before and after, you might think they’re completely different people. But don’t listen to an old man’s story, you just make sure you pack a good lunch before headin’ out.”

I get up from the table and grab my pack.

“Thanks, and I’ll be sure to keep my eyes peeled for any scary looking monsters.”

Davis gets up, grabbing his steak knife from the table.

“When did I say they look like monsters?”


Here Comes the Sun

Well, I never thought it would end like this. Hearing the screams of friends and neighbours as the temperature slowly rises. I mean we all knew it would happen, but it came as a surprise to all of us I guess. Even the scientists that have been studying it for centuries don’t have an explanation for what’s happening. I’m pretty sure most of us have just excepted that this is our fate, our impending doom. I know I have.

So my family and I head down to the beach one last time, each bringing our favourite object to hold close to us in our final moments. My son brings his plush dinosaur, my wife brings her favourite book and I bring my acoustic guitar. We all lay on the sand and stare up at the now crimson sky as the sun goes into supernova. I start strumming a classic tune as the heat rises ever more.

“Here comes the sun, do do do do.”


My Sister

I wake up in sweats, but I don’t remember going to sleep. I felt like I woke up from a nightmare, but I don’t remember dreaming. My mind was racing, trying to peice together last night, but I struggle to remember what happened.

A car? Some Friends? A faint smell of alcohol?

As I sit up, I freeze. I lock eyes with my sister as she sits on the end of the bed, Her glistening smile making me uncomfortable. I mutter out a few words.

“N-No! Y-You’re dead!”

She continues smiling at me, her eyes sparkling like they always did.

“And you’re not?”

About the author

Leon Caluzzi is an avid horror enjoyer based in Australia. Whilst a majority of his personal experience in the genre stem from mediums such as videos and games, when struck with inspiration he is quick to put fingers to keyboard. Influenced by a swathe of styles, structures and subjects, Leon finds writing to be a compelling and relaxing pastime in the midst of his studies.

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