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For a publication dedicated to showcasing exceptional horror and macabre works, the reading experience is paramount. The vessel holding the work must be as carefully crafted as the pieces themselves. As we looked to the future, we evaluated the standard digital publishing platforms—WordPress, Ghost, and Squarespace. While functional for many, it quickly became apparent that… Continue reading Welcome to the New Macabre Magazine!

Welcome to the RockSnark music podcast with me, Nathan Pool, and no prizes for guessing it’s going to be about the late Gerry Solby, who died this week.

I arrived early on my first day at Palacio Cardoso. The air was heavy with exhaust fumes. I crossed the street, shielding my eyes from the glare, and hugged the thin strip of shade provided by the buildings until I found a tiny café.

I love my mother, but if I ever see her again, I’ll kill her. Perhaps I love my mother because of biology, but biology can be hacked these days, so who can trust that anymore?

When I was a child, my father used to scare me with this rubber Halloween mask. It’s burned into my brain like the remnant image left on a TV screen after you power it down. It covered his entire head and changed his skin from pale white to black and red with a piercing set of yellow eyes.

The heat oozed through the windows and pooled behind Scott’s blackout curtains. If he sat still, hunched over his desk, he could stay cool enough to think.

Even after all those years, the yellow eyes still haunted him. A sickening feeling roiled in his stomach. He looked out the window and saw the ground below him menacing, almost grinning at the prodigal son’s return.

We were hiking in dense woods when a sudden rainstorm blew up. We ran, looking for shelter, and came upon an old, abandoned house—a mansion, really, that must have once been beautiful.

If she squinted and imagined nightmares, the house would have looked haunted. With eyes wide open, and her darker dreams tucked away, it was just a big gray building adrift in a sea of trees. Charity Barnes opened the rental car door in a cloud of dust she’d trailed in from the gravel road and dirt driveway.

You left your phone in the car when you got out to pump gas. The sleep-shorts you wore offered little protection against the cool autumn night. Gooseflesh broke out on your bare skin, and you wanted nothing more than to get back home quickly to snuggle up under your sheets.

The black velvet petunias eat away at your antipathy– sunless conduit flowers for unlit obituary candles, Drunk Tank Pink garnish of a burial shroud,

Leather-bound tatters Blood-ink maters to parchment Read atop an escarpment Fire-blue tines rape the sky On-high violations as Motivation for Necronomic Incantations, audible permutations Of flesh, veins, and hatred Eyes red with sound and fury Signifying there is no worry Of nine clouds of judgement  As Mephistical mystics Regurgitate cannibalistic  Fetid decay disguised as lyrics… Continue reading Grimoire

Hi there! My name is Cathy Haan, and I have been a licensed realtor in Minneapolis, Minnesota, for over fifteen years. One of the most common questions I get from potential homebuyers is about the prevalence of wood wraiths. So, I’ve written this article for my blog, Haan Talks Houses, in the hopes that I… Continue reading A Local’s Guide to Wood Wraiths

We agreed: it had to be a drifter, an outsider. That much was clear. Our town wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big enough to hold, to hide, an appetite such as this. We knew this to be true. We knew this because we knew everyone. Of course, the first person we would have suspected—the only person—was her brother. But… Continue reading A Named Storm

Homecoming Dorothy absentmindedly bobbed her head to the beat of “Espresso” pounding from the car speakers. Her friends—Kianna, Zoe, and Gabby—hollered the lyrics, way off-key but not caring. Her forehead pressed against the window, Dorothy watched the towering redwoods blur by, pulling away each time the Lexus jounced over a pothole. Gabby never spotted them… Continue reading Smash

It was barely four o’clock, and already the thick, wet Scottish dark of winter had fallen around the loch like a shroud. The car mounted a rise and began the descent into the valley. Maggie didn’t like coming this way, but she didn’t trust the Big Road, what with all the lorries—not in this junkheap.… Continue reading The Laundrette

It is crying again. A loud, incessant wail that rattles the eardrums and causes the cutlery to tremble in the cupboards. Give it another few minutes, and the hollering will turn into a full-blown tantrum, with spectral fists smashing against the floorboards and tiny…

Reginald Cathcart squirms. His stomach’s disquiet. The past week’s stories have been weak, not up to his usual standards. He can feel the Words’ gurgitation roil. They push against the inside of him. He senses them weave through his intestines, circle his stomach like they’re on a Gravitron ride, snake upward through his esophagus. He… Continue reading Words

My piece-of-shit cousin Brice waved the card in front of my face for just a minute too long, each wag building the pressure bit by bit. I stared blankly ahead. My body became a bubble, holding back an unspeakable rage with the thinnest of films. “Finders keepers,” he sneered. The bubble popped. It was inevitable.… Continue reading The Hole in the Corner of the Dining Room Floor

Most horror stories people recount from their university years take place first or second term. Perhaps they went out drinking and got lost in the city’s winding streets, their impaired minds guiding them deep into unknown alleyways and ivy-covered husks, leaving them totally disorientated. Or, inhibited by unfamiliarity, they attempted to find their class only… Continue reading Slip

We were hiking in a dense wood when a sudden rainstorm blew up. We ran for shelter and came upon an old abandoned house. A mansion, really, that must have once been beautiful. “How lucky is that?” you said and bounded onto the porch. I nearly fell through the rotten boards, but you caught my… Continue reading I Know You’re There. Somewhere.

The heat oozed through the windows and pooled behind Scott’s blackout curtains. If he sat still, hunched over his desk, he could stay cool enough to think. Scott’s home office was dim, every lamp left off in favor of the roaring air conditioner that hissed tepid air through its bared teeth. Half-filled applications glowed primly… Continue reading Thrives in the Waste

Caw! Caw! Tom tilted his head and eyes towards the sky. Even in the darkness, he could see the silhouette of a murder circling overhead. Waiting for the inevitable, he thought. He turned back to the road. The moonlight made a futile attempt to fight its way through the overarching trees on either side. He squinted… Continue reading The Shadow

The day Marcie left rehab, her mother handed her a gift. “Honey, I got you a new phone with an important app.” “Great, Mom.” Marcie looked out the window as the car pulled onto the highway. The last six weeks had been hell, and she was eager to get back to her apartment for a… Continue reading Life Clock

I’d never been able to eat bacon, not since I burned down the flat where my brother Eddy and I lived with the Bogeyman. It’s the smell. That unmistakable reek of fat and flesh crackling. Even years later, sitting in the food court of a motorway services off the M1, as I attentively cut the… Continue reading Incendiary

Ben was six years old when he heard his mother weeping, snarling, and, to his amazement, she seemed to be gnashing her teeth. He sneaked downstairs and heard the screams. All his brothers were either in their rooms or out of the house. Why hadn’t they heard this or done anything? The door from which… Continue reading Benjamin and the Family Gathering

Part I Marco sat behind the wheel of his Audi A4 convertible, a gift from his parents earlier that year. The road from Smederevo to Belgrade lay drowned in a stagnant fog, the kind that descended without warning and might linger for an hour, a day, or forever—it was never clear which. Mid-May, yet they… Continue reading The Groom

It began in 1917. Our father, Jeremy, had been gone two years, serving in the Great War. We received messages from him via military mail throughout his first eighteen months. The excitement of receiving those letters was beyond any I have felt before or since. To know he was alive and well. And then the letters stopped.… Continue reading The Ghost in the Field

If I told you I enjoy torturing my husband, Earl, would you think I was a monster? If you answered already, shame on you. Life is not black and white, and you should hear my story before rushing to judgment—especially the part about Earl’s secret. First off, Earl thinks he’s brilliant. To be fair, he… Continue reading Watch Out for Deer

If she squinted and imagined nightmares, the house would have looked haunted. With eyes wide open and her darker dreams tucked away, it was just a big gray building adrift in a sea of trees. Charity Barnes opened the rental car door in a cloud of dust she’d trailed in from the gravel road and… Continue reading It’s Not Just the Dark

The parking lot was empty. Steve ignored the sharp headache that had suddenly come over him and the peculiar feeling that he had done this before. As hard as he tried to keep his eyes on the video store’s entrance and not on the multiple yellow signs in the windows, he found himself reading the… Continue reading Just Another Day

Tragedy struck early in Stella’s childhood. Her mother, Clara, was a brilliant professor of quantum physics at the local university. She was renowned for her sharp mind and tireless dedication to her work. Her father was snuffed out in an instant on a rain-slicked road. Clara’s shock and grief pushed Stella from her mother’s womb… Continue reading Schrödinger’s a Quack

Shared coffee in the quiet mornings, holding hands on a walk. Not to mention the tiny, unglamorous sacrifices no one posts about on social media.

It was an accident when I saw Mom cry for the first time. I was cutting class and snuck home during lunch—freshman year, each day a unique disaster; I had been slighted by some former best friend and needed to get away—but when I tiptoed into the apartment, Mom’s racking sobs were coming from the… Continue reading Constance

The moment the waitress steps over to take my order, I sniff the scent of menstrual blood lingering beneath the stench of grill smoke and fryer grease. My mouth waters more for her than it does the plates of meatloaf and country fried pork making the rounds of the fifties-themed diner. So intoxicated am I… Continue reading Bone Sour

Monday I’ve always had a little brother, haven’t I? He’s eleven, between Kesley, nine, and May, thirteen. I remember when mom and dad brought him home from the hospital. “Isn’t he adorable?” they asked as they showed him to me. When I look back at that day, why can’t I see what he looked like… Continue reading I’ve Always Had a Little Brother

Gretchen Ellison was a beautiful young woman, as many men (and a great many women) would attest. Though modest by nature, she wouldn’t disagree. She knew her face had a Madonna-like, cherubic innocence. Her hourglass figure was exquisite. She sometimes braidedher flowing chestnut hair into a ponytail for work. The male clientele really seemed to like that style with a lily-white sundress.… Continue reading The Escort

Dragović cursed softly as he approached his storefront. The front windows were shattered, with shards of glass glinting in the morning light as they lay scattered across the sidewalk. He unlocked the front door, carefully draped his suit jacket over the counter, and brought out a trash can. He went back in for a broom… Continue reading Ink

It is a lonely thing, to die in a world that is not your own. That is the fate that my brother and I now face. It is even more cruel that the world we find ourselves in is so like our own in so many ways, yet so hostile at every turn. The village… Continue reading Water and Brimstone

Kevin Mulligan was scared shitless. He was twelve now. Twelve was the age you started cleaning the cobwebs. Kevin grew up hearing stories about the spiders. There was always a spooky tale for campfires or sleepovers. Ben Watson told one at Tim Rollins’s house just before his dad came in to say lights out. Ben… Continue reading The Cobwebs

Luther Balor was woken from his dozing by the hard strike of a match. The faint smell of burned sulfur lingered as he blinked hard and turned his eyes to the butler hovering beside him: a young man dressed sharply in the customary tuxedo of a servant; a white tie knotted snugly around his throat.… Continue reading The Allen Affair

The ticket blepped out the machine like a tongue. Laughing to himself, giddy with jetlag, Rory used both hands to take hold of it. One hand would be impolite in Japan. Written in English: Midnight Ferry with Vending Machines and onboard Entertainments. The waiting room was empty, and too bright, with pale gray walls and wan… Continue reading Midnight Ferry With Vending Machines

Marcy and her thirty-two-year-old son, Ricky, were sitting on the couch watching the evening television. In front of them was a small table with food, both on the plates and scattered around. The program was a soap opera that they rewatched numerous times. Cigarette smoke dimmed the already weak lighting. The peeling wallpaper was adopting… Continue reading Princess

“And so the little girl, well-warned against the wolf and snug in her bright red cloak, skipped along into the woods to see her grandmother…” Guilhaume Barthélémy wiped his balding pate in consternation as he listened, the nursemaid’s thick Germanic accent now lilting lightly over the words. Her new fluency hardly registered, however, in the… Continue reading Winter Trial

Although he couldn’t save his wife, Matthew said he was lucky to escape the woods. Later, it came out that, on the first day of the hike, he hit her on the head with a stone and pushed her off a cliff. Apparently, it was planned all along. Her body struck the rock wall twice,… Continue reading Pork Chops

Dark Harbor Magazine Becomes Macabre Magazine For nearly a year, Dark Harbor Magazine has been a home for horror. We published stories that lingered, work that carried weight, and voices that shaped the character of the magazine. In that short span, readers returned issue after issue, and writers trusted us with their best work. The result was… Continue reading Macabre Magazine

Something is wrong. There is a stranger in the back of the train. Someone I have never seen before. Sitting alone, among all the daily commuters I see every day. Perhaps I never noticed him before. Though he has a distinct look I would have noticed. His face is smooth and there is not a… Continue reading The Stranger on the Train

It starts like this: a pinprick of blood on a white sheet.  Caroline nearly misses it. She would’ve missed it if it weren’t for the snow-blind blankness of her new bed set. The spot is perfectly round and rust red, the planet Mars in miniature. “The god of war,” she thinks, a bad omen. Her… Continue reading The Bedbug

At dusk, he carried a small backpack into the park, unfurled a one-man pop-up tent near the ablutions of the main camping ground. The tent screamed vivid yellows and blues—jarringly incongruent with his craggy face and deadpan expression. Until recently, it had been his son’s. From the many times they’d come here together. Way back… Continue reading Beast

Halloween was the best family event of the year. Every Halloween, The Cousins  played Ninjas. Our grandmother had ten children. Ten children all got married except Uncle Steve. He died in Vietnam, and my dad always poured a beer into the grass for Uncle Steve when all the siblings got together.     All these children having children is… Continue reading No One Ever Sees Me

You don’t remember how you got here, just that you woke up on a dusty futon in a large empty garage with a slick concrete floor that you place your bare feet on as you jolt awake. Light is coming through the high windows on the one wall but you can only see tree tops… Continue reading The Pole Barn

Ten years ago, it came and unleashed hell upon my little desert oasis. When I finally confronted it—striking a deal that would end its reign of terror—the missing had reached twenty-two. It may not seem like a lot, but for us that was nearly a quarter of our population which meant everyone either knew someone… Continue reading My Little Desert Oasis

 Prologue: The Tree That Feeds on Silence “When a child cries at midnight and the dog does not bark, the ancestors are the ones rocking the cradle.”– Old Tiv saying In the far stretches of Taraba State, where the savannah breathes in long sighs and the earth blushes red beneath bare feet, there lies a land shaped more by… Continue reading Shrieks and Giggles

It hadn’t been a conscious thing, the way he lost his mind. It slipped away slowly, like water draining through a crack in the hull. Somewhere along the way, he knew it was gone. Hunger consumed it. Hunger could do that, especially when you hadn’t eaten in days. Maybe it began when he couldn’t tell… Continue reading Old Sea Right

Although he couldn’t save his wife, Matthew said he was lucky to escape the woods. Later, it came out that, onthe first day of the hike, as he’d planned all along, he hit her on the head with a stone and pushed her off a cliff. Her body struck the rock wall twice, then crashed through the canopy of trees below. Some of her short mousey hairs stuckto the stone, which he chucked after her. He timed twenty minutes on his watch then called for help. No one came. Even… Continue reading Pork Chops

Emily remembered long ago when her parents found her in the backyard as a child, knees in the mud, digging in the dirt with her bare hands. She looked up at them as they loomed over her, the gentle rain beading on her father’s glasses and painting dark dots on her mother’s red jacket. Emily… Continue reading That’s God, Emily

It could be a shed for livestock, or farm equipment; anything except kitchen supplies. The dark green paint job looks fresh, trying to blend into landscape; an attempt to appear inconspicuous. Eyes of greasy men watch from across the road, cigarettes dangling from their bearded mouths. Sounds of hammering and tinkering from their garage fills the… Continue reading Mr Moustache

Our high school rose above Istanbul like a mausoleum, and its corridors steeped in mildew and silence. Every stair groaned like a coffin lid, the walls bled with forgotten mosaics clawing their way back to the surface, and it sounded as if the building had learned to exhale slowly, the way the sea does before… Continue reading Screams of Lost Souls

The front door slams downstairs. If I hear whistling, it’s dad. If not, it’s her. I count my heartbeats in my throat. The sun has started its slow descent. The many-petaled leaves of the mimosa brush against the window screen like waves against the shore. Footsteps thunk across the floor toward the kitchen. No whistle. … Continue reading The Hiding Place

Russell Hastings checked his wristwatch. It was a few minutes past eleven p.m. Central Park was cloaked in the darkness of an unseasonably warm October. He had just under seven hours left on his graveyard shift. A bag of sandwiches and a large thermos he stole from his grandfather years ago filled with diet soda… Continue reading Last Night In Central Park

Finally, someone has lived to tell the tale. He remembers the cave. He remembers the way. He memorized everything. Such a good boy. He was missing his left leg and three fingers on his right hand when we found him. We were besides ourself with joy and fear regardless. The Lads have never returned anyone… Continue reading A Winter March

The day Sam’s son died was also Sam’s last day of freedom. Sam’s son was named Matt. Matt was ten years old and resembled his father’s good looks with dark hair and blue eyes. Sam was a tall lean man and Matt was a wiry athletic boy that was good in many sports. Matt’s favorite… Continue reading Sam’s Son

Nathan Blaustein was a short man, with narrow, seemingly inert ice blue eyes that nevertheless were penetrating. No one closely observing him as he stood mutely taking in his wife Bea’s histrionic distress would make the mistake of thinking him unfeeling. For there was something in the way he watched her, in the way the… Continue reading And Those Who Watch

When it comes to getting rid of your wife and best friend in one night, timing is everything. So many things can go wrong. So many threads need to align. But the truth is, I could have been an actor or director in another life. I recognize, unlike most, that everyone has their roles to… Continue reading Excuse the Outburst

There are things that live in the walls here, but they don’t tell you that in the welcome tour. Well, they don’t tell you about a lot of things before the state abandons you here for ‘defiance’. Twenty girls jammed in a too-small room. Clothes folded in the lockers but with no locks to keep… Continue reading Things that Live in the Walls

When my campfire died, the darkness rushed in to devour me like a starved hunter. Scrunching my knees to my chest, I defensively pressed my back against the trunk of a gnarled oak tree. I could no longer feel my feet. “Be brave,” I whispered in my mind. I hated the thumping heartbeat in my… Continue reading The Shadow and the Wolf

It made no sense that we should be haunted by the coyote, and a whole town no less. If it had been the ghost of the child, or if it had haunted the Weaver family, or Joe Maclean, the man who’d tracked the creature, shot it and brought back the tattered dress of Lily Weaver… Continue reading Coyote Storm

Life had never felt the same since the murder of my father. He had been a cruel and wretched man—harsh, loveless, and incapable of seeing me as anything more than his second-born and, therefore, unworthy of much regard. I had no illusions about his feelings, and yet, in the wake of his death, something restless… Continue reading My Brother

It’s gone, I think. I can no longer hear the clicking sound it makes. Others like it chitter and call to others of their horrid kind. I have been hiding in the collapsed marquee of a theatre (Waiting for Godot was showing here in the before times, the lettering reads) waiting for the thing to… Continue reading Southeast

Ethan nearly drove past without noticing it. The directions the man from the gas station had given him weren’t very clear. The gravel road off Highway 22 was unmarked, veiled by a dense thicket of dark pines. His headlights skimmed an old, weather-beaten sign hidden behind the brush; gold letters too faded to make out.… Continue reading Vacancy

Mile after mile of Texas highway thundered away beneath the navy blue Mustang. Jeff pushed the muscle car into the far left lane and dropped the hammer. Sara’s hair flew back. The high southern sky stretched blue and clear over the bone-pale landscape opening around them. Scarred by dry arroyos, the land was dotted with… Continue reading Hollow Faces

I never understood my father. It might sound clichéd, but it is true. My father had been in active service during the war, fighting against tyranny. I was still in the womb when he departed, off to some foreign place, danger waiting for him on muddy fields with gunfire acting as the song of a… Continue reading Jack

On Thursday we killed everyone, and it was every bit as wonderful as she had hoped. But on Friday, the first day of our perfect new life together, I woke up with a bad feeling. Late morning sunlight slanted through arched balcony doors. I blinked at Marcia, sleeping next to me on a massive mahogany… Continue reading A Little Bad Luck

Google this shit if you want to, but the park is a death trap—and no one seems to give a damn. Governor Healy proposed a “statewide resource” to improve coordination in missing persons cases. That’s it. A resource. Like we haven’t been losing people for decades in the same places, with the same unanswered questions.… Continue reading Root Work

Detective O’Rourke strolled down an eroding hallway, the shadows hemmed in sulfurous orange while stark-white LEDs splayed across the wall to her right. Smoking inside hadn’t been legal in twenty years, but the building was a rotting shell, so an ember hung a few inches below her fingertips, trailing ghostly smoke. Her hair was in… Continue reading An Approximation of Thunder

The Grand Continental did not look like a place you’d bring your daughter to die. When Paula got there and looked out the window, the view was so beautiful she almost cried. The ocean had that impossible green-blue that water in postcards had—or dreams—hugging a gently curving shore, where couples walked hand in hand and… Continue reading Breakfast at The Grand Continental

Raymond had just turned eighty years old and didn’t care, age was just a number. He sat at his computer watching an online interview of the famous author of Romance Fantasy, Leslie Sorenson. She was attractive, even sans makeup. Tall, with penetrating green eyes and long brown hair. Seth the blogger had already covered her… Continue reading What’s Your Sign

May 14th I was allowed five minutes of peace after finishing my Southern Rockies report before they sent me to the Northern lakes and forests of Wisconsin for more field work. I arrived earlier this afternoon but can’t remember the name of the Podunk town I’m staying in. Downtown is a single road with crumbling… Continue reading The Keystone Witch

That stupid Bulwer-Lytton was right, John Moreland thought as he struggled to see where he was going down the dark two-lane road. It really IS a dark and stormy night. Moreland was trying to make his way to his sister’s house, and normally didn’t take this route, but a huge pile-up and traffic jam blocked… Continue reading The Morning After the Nightmare

The doll head had no body. That was the first affront. It sat — always sat — on the highest shelf in the hallway alcove, where the sun never reached and the wallpaper peeled. It was there when he was born. He remembers this, though the memory is impossible: the cracked white forehead, the perfect… Continue reading The Porcelain Mother

There was something familiar about the man sitting alone on the station bench reading a carefully folded newspaper. Nelson Wilcox had the unsettling sense of somehow knowing – and yet never having met – the man. It was not a case of having “seen him somewhere before.” This might appear to be a seemingly immaterial… Continue reading The Rough Draft

1. Open your eyes. I know you don’t want to. Remember, sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. This is one of those times. Open your eyes. 2. Breathe. You were so smart to hide. Under your bed was perfect. 3. Move to the door. Open it a little. What do… Continue reading This Is How You Run from Monsters

Lester Grainger had lived in Green Prairie for less than eighteen months, but he would never live to see a full year and a half. There was nothing about him that was striking, nothing that would cause a woman to take notice of his looks, nor would any man find him a challenge to their… Continue reading The Last Good English Teacher

Baines had knocked several times on the mahogany door that morning but no response. You never knew with Mr. Lavery he could be a real devil, give you hell. Yet when mother was dying, he’d been so kind. You had to handle him carefully. Not everyone would suit the job. Ricky Lavery finally rolled out… Continue reading One for the Devil

They were two old friends, and they decided to meet each day in the park. The park was not far from Stanley’s house, where he had lived his whole adult life. When his children were small, they would go down on Sunday afternoons, around the time his wife couldn’t stand them in the house anymore.… Continue reading Two Old Friends

“True! -nervous -very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?” – Edgar Allen Poe The plastic accordion curtain slid back, and he could see into the bathroom. Would it have… Continue reading Farewell Francis

No one lives in my house now. You can tell because, at night, there are no lights. People should have lights on at night. Not too late at night, people have to sleep, but around dinnertime or just after, when people go to the den to watch Get Smart or something else with a laugh… Continue reading Plucking the moon from the Bottom of the Ocean

Pat had recently gotten really into staring at ceiling fans, primarily the one in his bedroom, but he wasn’t particular. The one in his bedroom was good. Well not good, but interesting. Sort of. What he meant was that he could look at it for a long time without feeling like he wanted to stop… Continue reading Tether

So, you’re thinking about working for Mr. Bob Hensham, huh? Think he’s the cat’s pajamas or something? Think his business is going places, but you’re wondering, why am I going around town telling people that he’s the Devil? I’m really glad you asked me that. Settle down, thanks for the beer, and open them big… Continue reading Bob’s Machine

Miranda couldn’t recall the last time a circus came through town. The flier listed the city basketball court as its venue. Miranda squinted through the bright sun at the banner hanging in the stadium window. It looked vintage, like an advert for Barnum and Bailey’s on display in a museum exhibit. Miranda cast her eyes… Continue reading Pied Piper’s Infernal Circus

Whenever he and his wife Rawia had friends over, or would go to theirs for dinner, Brian liked to imagine beforehand how the conversation would go. He’d rehearse in his head the opening gambits, the witty responses and the insightful aperçus that he imagined he would deliver, accompanied by the acknowledging nods or perhaps a… Continue reading Imaginary Friends

“Mom!” Kayla knew right when she yelled it, trouble would soon follow. Trouble always did, especially when her mother had started her liquid dinner around lunchtime. Kayla, 7-years-old, was in bed, covers pulled up tightly up to her nose. Her blue eyes peeked out widely, searching for the noise that caused her to utter that… Continue reading There’s Nothing in the Closet

Isabelle’s admissions portfolio is nearly ready. Brooke has the family narrative, the test scores, and the letters of recommendation. These came from Isabelle’s godmother, who runs a marketing firm, and from their pastor at First Presbyterian. Brooke wrote the third letter herself, in the voice of Isabelle’s nanny, Ellen, and had her sign it. The… Continue reading All the Bullets are Silver

Sarah Whitechapel was currently struggling to imagine life without her ring finger. The knuckles of her left hand ached as she drew her fingers into her palm for the thousandth time that morning. She’d been told it helped to visualize, but it was difficult to picture nothing where there’d once been something. It was difficult… Continue reading Off-Cuts

My parents always referred to Ireland as ‘home’. I took that to heart and thought we were home, not understanding this was just a holiday. And being home in Dublin, meant we also had to travel down to my mum’s hometown, Enniscorthy, and visit the relatives there. The trip down was four kids, my mum… Continue reading Power

That Friday night, for all that came later, was a blur until Samantha drunkenly slammed his door. Taye watched her leave with her friends, then ended her ride in the app. She would tip nicely; sometimes he could just tell. He rated her the full five stars, as he did for all but the absolute… Continue reading Ride

If you were going about your normal day, how many owls would you need to see before you thought something was wrong? Actually, scratch that. Too soon for that. So, have you ever remembered a show or something from childhood, and you start hunting around the web for it, maybe even start asking people about… Continue reading Episode 10: “The Owls of Olivewood”

They pulled up in their rented red convertible to 76 Achlys Cove. Morgan let out a gasp. “Oh. My. God.” Can you believe this?” “I can’t wait to see the view!” Miles said. She raced up to the door and put the number to the house, while he unloaded. He looked up at the old… Continue reading HONEYMOON

Cason had never been to the wall before. It was busier than he expected: hundreds of sweaty and starving men crammed together in front of a screen and speaker all jostling to get to the front as if that made it more likely that their number would get called. The air was noisy with the… Continue reading The Long Ones

It’s easy to love horror movies when you haven’t experienced one yourself. That’s it. That’s my opinion. These days, I find nothing more relaxing than dumb reality shows where the only danger facing contestants is being sent to an “exile island”. As a teenager who had to grapple with the struggles of a dead mother,… Continue reading If It’s Black, Fight Back