I released the third of my Patreon Challenge stories a few days ago, Online Undead. You can check it out here if you’re my patron:

https://www.patreon.com/posts/online-undead-23976252

And here’s a teaser:

My name is Charlie (no relation to Leroy) Jenkins, and I think I’m being haunted. But of course, I’m getting ahead of myself, and it’s not so much haunted as…well, I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Nathan and I had been best friends since the 2nd grade, when his family moved here from Dallas eight years ago. His parents hadn’t allowed him to socialize outside of school at first, but we’d found other ways to connect. We’d done everything together online we could, really, but mostly what we’d done is play video games. We’d spent so much time paired up in the digital world, it was almost impossible to believe that I’d never see him again not only physically but also digitally.

Around 5th grade Nathan’s parents loosened up a bit and we’d begun hanging out more in person, but the pattern had already been set. The digital world was our domain, and we spent most of our time together there, battling dragons of all different shapes, sorts, and sizes. 

We started with Disney’s Toontown Online, quickly progressed to Pirates of the Caribbean and then to City of Heroes, and when NCSoft stupidly shut down CoH, moved on to Secret World: Legends and World of Warcraft. Lately, however, we’d been going the nostalgia route, playing Toontown Rewritten (a fan-made server created after Disney shut down the original) while our phones were almost completely dedicated to Pokémon Go.

https://www.patreon.com/posts/online-undead-23976252

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From Joe's writing

She caught the railing with one trembling hand, just barely hanging on. But her fingers were so cold, she could barely feel them. And then he was upon her, leaning over the railing, his hot, fetid breath turning to steam before her eyes, clouding her vision. She saw a hint of wiry black fur, and a snout where his nose should have been. A white hot pain shot through her arm as something sharp and dangerous raked deep across the back of her hand. She was falling again, her fingers having lost their grip on the cement balcony, and all she could see was a haze of blood as the ground rushed up to meet her.

— Threads, Chapter 19