Kristen Hatten

Kristen Hatten has been writing stories and poems for as long as she can remember. Only recently has she pursued publication. Her first published story, "San Francisco," can be seen in the June issue of Jersey Devil Press. She lives in Garland, TX, with her husband, a U.S. Army veteran, and their dog George.

Kristen Hatten has been writing stories and poems for as long as she can remember. Only recently has she pursued publication. Her first published story, "San Francisco," can be seen in the June issue of Jersey Devil Press. She lives in Garland, TX, with her husband, a U.S. Army veteran, and their dog George.

Bioluminescence

I am running.

I am running down a hallway.

I am running down a hallway and they are chasing me, but they won’t catch me.

I don’t know what I am, but all of a sudden, I know I’m fast.


The doctor was in on it the whole time. He pretended to be interested, maybe concerned. But not scared. Not worried. He talked about bioluminescence, about algae that makes whole stretches of coastline glow in the dark. He said “perfectly rational explanation” several times.

Then he told me to relax. He told me I could lie down. He even adjusted the bed for me. “I thought only nurses do that,” I told him. I don’t know if he even heard what I said; the tissue against my nose muffled my words.

He smiled absently, said, “I’m gonna switch out the light so you can rest,” and left the room.

An hour before, I thought I’d never sleep again. But it’s amazing what a dim room and cool air can do.

I slept.

I dreamed.