Fiction

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

There were pieces of the walls scattered across the floor like confetti. The room smelled like bile and two scared animals. He had been watching August as he lay unconscious on the floor. August was far from well. He wouldn’t stop rolling his head across the concrete in the same nauseating motion, over and over… Continue reading My Brother\’s Keeper

Jerry lay in his bed, staring up at dusty white ceiling panels. The first light of morning shone through large rectangular windows, muted by yellowed curtains. He drew in a deep breath, tasting the mild odor of disinfectant in the air. “Another day in paradise.” He sighed. He’d never get used to that smell. He… Continue reading Eldritch Care

Marty flinched under his covers when the door slammed out in the living room, but that slamming door, followed by the muffled cries of his mom, meant that it was over. The curse words, the yelling, the breaking of things, it was over. Marty sighed. Soon, his mom would cry herself to sleep, and the… Continue reading A Handful of Flies

The light danced shades of warm and cold on the walls as the lamp swayed slightly in a gust of wind from the open door. The room was cool, damp and anonymous. Hidden far underground. The walls monotonous. He saw the flickering red dots; aware of the recording. In the center of the room stood… Continue reading King\’s Table

I. Steam This dream is always the same, because it’s also a memory. She sits near the end of the dock, her delicate frame perched on a small black cooler, her back to him, her face to the sun. The day is brilliant, early summer light off the water nearly blinding. Charlotte isn’t fishing, but… Continue reading Nourish

There is a light out there. A red light in a house so far off the beaten path it\’s bruised with neglect. It should have been forgotten. Was for decades. But that hardly matters now. What does is avoiding the light. Completely. Unless you can\’t. And if you can\’t, I\’ll see you soon. I guess… Continue reading The Red Light

I really liked his grave. The cemetery overlooked a deep lake where birds flew all around. The little grove around the church was also perfect. It wasn\’t too thick, too wild, too sparse, or manmade. It felt and looked, well, natural and beautiful. The grounds themselves were pretty well-kept. Most of the other tombstones had… Continue reading His Skin

Damn thing could have sat on the man’s front porch since afternoon the day before, there was no way of knowing for sure. When the days got dark early, the drinking started early and Lou didn’t see sun or sense until the next morning. So that’s when he found it. Laying on his front porch… Continue reading Monkey No Legs

By four o’clock, Kris is clean out of fucks to give. It’s the Friday preceding spring break. There’s no aftercare today, no other underpaid employees to push her last few kids off on. The parents either forgot or don’t care. Kris reckons she’s absolved of any obligation to keep them from running wild in the… Continue reading A Variety of Vermin

After turning the washer dial to the heavy soil setting, she shook her head and spoke to the laundry basket at her feet. “I can’t believe this is still happening. At your age, honestly,” she said. “I know, Mama.” Behind her, a shadow shifted in the hall. She could feel him there without having to… Continue reading Anything for My Baby

Andre de Corcy cursed under his breath as the charcoal split in his hands, smudging the rubbing of the sarcophagus seal. It was his fourth copy, so the mishap was hardly surprising if still inconvenient. He needed a half a dozen in all, some to be sent back to Paris and other learning centers for… Continue reading The Gold Seal