Zack Davis

Stories from Zack Davis

Friday, May 5th, 2017

The lump of sheets moved enough to wake me up. My tongue felt heavy in my dry mouth. My head pounded.

“Do you have any water?” she asked. I looked at my bedside and took inventory. Phone, wallet, keys, headphones, pens, box of tissues, lamp, card deck.

“Uhhh, not in here.” I assessed.

“Well can you go get some?”

Monday, December 14th, 2015

     Soap, I make soap, well more the machines make the soap and I monitor the machines.

     I walked to work. The Scottish countryside rolling like waves. Eventually the endless sheep farms melted into a small town. Most of the town was employed by the factory, save for a few odd store clerks and the other jobs it takes to keep a town alive, and of course the farmers. There weren't many others that walked though, especially not on the graveyard shift. Yet, I was addicted to the sunrise, and the smell of fresh bread in the bakery.