The Thinning Novels & Stories

"You're even manufacturing blood now just to keep your little act alive? You truly are something else. Too bad you waste all that cleverness on underhanded tricks." Turning on her heel, she barked at the lingering students in the hall. "What are you all standing around rubbernecking for? Don't you have physical exams to complete? "Get back in line right now! Anyone caught slacking off will have their physical exam eligibility revoked!" The students scattered immediately, and a hollow quiet returned to the corridor. Only three people remained: me, Marie, and Hailey. Hailey crouched beside me, her hands trembling as she gently tried to dab away the blood pouring down my face, her voice thick w

I don't feel real, alive, or me. I lock the bathroom door and open the lid to the toilet. My reflection shines in the toilet water. I hate myself. I purge my entire meal. The donuts, muffins, and watermelon fall out of me. The sensation is terrifying, hideous, and makes me dizzy. I feel the stomach acid burning my throat. I flush it all down and use mouth wash to cover up my vomit breath. I feel like I'm near death. Anorexia is death-a death sentence I have forced on myself.

He smiled. The house was exactly like the one I described to him. Within a week we moved out of the apartment and into the house. I officially joined Thorn cider and helped Nick with running a branch of the company. My admin skills came in handy and my new skills I learned from my promotions came in handy with promoting one of their new lines along with handling the business meetings to secure new contracts. I was also given an opportunity to design a new label for their new launch. Life could not be going any better.

I'm not supposed to care what happens to her. My thumb hovers over the message. One swipe and it's gone. I look back at the screen. The threat stares back at me, ugly and real. Swipe. Hold. Delete. Just like that, it's gone.

I feel like we’re all holding our breaths and silently praying they give up soon, as we carry on forward at breakneck speed and Meadow stays with her eyes glued to the road and her foot pressed hard on the gas. “Thinner means it’s maybe not going to be much longer, right?” Carmen breaks the tense silence and leans forward as though she is peering outside to try and see any kind of end to the smog and I sigh listlessly. “I don’t know. The mountain is miles to the north, and it reached there. So if it does thin we have miles of it yet.” I point out in deflation and rest my head against the frame of the window, peering out into endless mist for miles.

The week after the message reached Ashford, Brynn began to feel herself going thin. That was the only word she had for it. Not weak, exactly. Not broken. Thin. Like she was wearing her own life lighter than she used to, like a wolf could see through her now if they looked at the right angle. Days passed and she did not feel them landing. She did the work. She ate when she could. She lay down in her corner at night. And somewhere underneath all of it, the wolf who had once felt all of it was getting quieter.

Just us acting dumb on the ice, breathing heavy, grinning like idiots. My legs screamed louder as we kept going, but I didn’t care. Roland’s teasing turned softer, mixed with actual tips. “Loosen up more. Yeah, like that.” His hands found my hips again a couple times, guiding without the heavy pressure. Each touch made my heart race weird. I kept stealing glances at him—sweaty hair stuck to his forehead, that cocky smile that wasn’t so annoying anymore. The rink felt smaller, just us and the sound of our skates.

“Did you see that, James? It went in!” She came skipping toward him, ponytail bouncing, tennis skirt flaring. James forced a smile, but his eyes betrayed him, sliding down her long legs glistening with sun-kissed sweat, then lingering on the curve of her thighs where the skirt ended. He rose reluctantly, grabbed a club, and positioned his ball. A quick swing sent it arcing wide, missing the hole by a mile. Lila burst into laughter, her melodic voice dripping with amusement. “You’re so bad at this, James.”

"Alright. Why don’t both parties take some time to cool off? The hearing is tomorrow, and the judge will make a ruling." After I got home, I exported all the videos from my phone, then I edited them and added captions. At midnight: The sound of drilling from Unit 601. Footage of Carl stuffing toothpicks into my lock. Mason dumping trash outside my door and hanging the dead rat. At the end, I added a photo of my mother’s shattered urn beside my diagnosis report. I captioned it: "Residents of Unit 601, the Carvers have been harassing and bullying me because I bought my apartment $30,000 below market. They destroyed my late mother’s ashes and attempted to extort $230,000 from me."