Trashy Town Book Novels & Stories

“I promise not to let even the strand of my hair dirty the book. I really just wanted to read.” “...” “M-Madame?” “Then can you wait until I am freed? I shall give you a book of mine. Please cherish it then.” Teary eyed, Billie hugged me. “I promise I will never let the others play with the book. You can trust me, I am a clean freak.” “Clean what? Where have you learned those?” “There’s this really cool sister at the orphanage and she speaks so cool like that.” Wait does she know that filth- no, that girl who speaks weirdly? What was her name again?

An open scab upon the river’s skin. “Jesus,” murmured Richard as he slowed the Blazer to a crawl, edging forward over Riverreach and onto the Island. There was trash everywhere, newspapers blowing, rubbish strewn in yards and littering the sides of the unpaved streets. “The land that fucking time forgot,” said Tommy. “This can’t be safe to live on. Why don’t they clean it up?”

Nanny Rita said it contains some cute stuff from her high school days – a phase in her life that brought her so much trauma. She breathed deep before opening the bag. It contains old slum books and a diary with broken lock. She smirked thinking that her mother could have forced to open it. She must be disappointed to see nothing juicy about the things that she wrote there. Her younger life was boring and predictable until it wasn't. In fact, each page of her diary contains almost the same events. As she randomly went through each page, she noticed a paper inserted within its pages. She almost dropped the diary upon seeing that paper from way back. It's still obvious that it was once cru

A FEW DAYS AGO Chicago Megacity was a humid, crowded mess on the best of days even after the Apocalypse happened and a lot of people died. Still, the place is far more crowded than other cities, probably because a lot of awakened had come to this place, so the government converted it into a safe zone. So when a Necromancer terrorist group waged war against law-abiding citizens and started wreaking havoc, the Chicago became a shitshow and immediately converted to a worst kind, not even the local normie police could handle.

My face stayed blank as I tossed it straight into the trash. "That one was hand-knit by my mom. This piece of crap doesn't even come close." Elmer frowned when he saw the scarf in the bin, then sat down beside me. "I know. But the dead won't come back, Moira. What's gone is gone. Risa didn't mean any harm, and it was you who pissed her off first, wasn't it? Come on, don't be mad." He reached out like he always did, trying to pat my head.

I pull away. Near it, a scrap of charcoal still clings to a slat of wood nailed to the post. A drawing, childlike, almost faded into nothing. A wolf. A handprint. A name that’s been rubbed away until it’s just scratches. And beside it—marks. Six. Maybe seven. Gouged in hard enough to split the grain. A tally of something. Time. Deaths. Fails. The taste of the Pit creeps back into my mouth. Rust. Burned bone. That strange ozone tang of magic that doesn’t belong. My stomach turns, but I don’t let it win. My fingers curl against the stone.

A donation box was placed before me, and my hand was outstretched as I made to drop a bank card inside. One of the people watching me mocked, "My, my! Look at you, Thalia Stoneridge. Everyone else donated cash, but you're putting a bank card inside. Don't think Jonathan will get together with you just because you're donating more than the others!" "Exactly! Jon's not interested in your stupid money!" someone else said. I returned to my senses and looked at my bank card. Then, I retracted my hand and put the card back in my pocket. "Well, alright. Since you guys think my money is stupid, I won't donate anything. I don't want to dirty everything else inside the box."

Even the most beautiful scenery in the world couldn't compare to a small smile from you. "If anything happened to you, I'd be nothing but broken bones and dried blood. There'd be no life left in me at all." I was still the same Gabrielle Armstrong, and he was still the same Jared Sheppard. Yet, the man who once said that the most beautiful scenery in the world couldn't compare to me now called me arrogant and insufferable. Back then, he said that I was his weakness, that without me, there'd be no life left in him. Now, he called me greedy, asking how much money it'd take to make me leave.

The text under the image scrolled like captions: ROUND 3: CARNIVAL. AUTHOR STRAIN: MODERATE. PLAYER LOSS: ACCEPTABLE. I snapped the book shut. The image folded in on itself and vanished. “These are… logs,” I said. “Narratives, the way *it* tells them.” “Correction,” SML said, pulling a volume labeled GAME CITY – MINI-GAMES from the shelf and flipping it open. “It’s fanfic. Bad fanfic. Look at this.” We leaned in.