No Escape A comic about enemies from the afterlife

A Short Fiction Story

No Escape

By Erin Thompson

they ask. Thom just kept walking past. Simone’s shines blinding white, Thom stood with them in the bright early morning light. I’ll have a coffee and a donut, we all said one by one. Traffic hummed on through the side door, more customers filter in, the woman behind the counter picks up her pace. Thom sat facing the wall, the open sun at his back and a wall-sized collage of Polaroid photos fading in the light. Thom pulled the glazed donut, sending shards of donut glazing scattering across the table’s ocean blue.

2004 The blue TV light reflected off Lily’s oxygen tank. A tape went bad in the VHS slot. Scanlines crashed like waves over the blue screen. Thom cracked the door and stepped into the dark room. The blue projected itself onto his Sunday best. An open box of donuts sat on her night stand. Shhhh, went the oxygen machine as if to hush Thom’s voice. Thom, Lily called, Thom. She held out her hand limply, flakes of donut glaze clung to the ends of fingers. Put on another tape, was her request. Thom worked the VHS out of the TV and the tangled memories on its cellophane tape. Thom dug through a stack of Focus on the Family tapes. Dad bought the tapes after cutting the cable. Dad cut off the cable after pastor told him to. Dad cut Lily’s cable after god told him to.

20–Thom stared at the flakes of donut glaze clung to his hand.