When Jacob Housley turned up dead, it didn’t take long for me to hear about it. Just about everyone knew everyone, back in the old town, and I was more than familiar with the Housleys. Well, I used to be, anyway. Jacob was one of my fathers closest friends–almost an […]
Phil had excellent hearing. He could, for example, hear Mrs. Polsgrove’s cat clawing at discarded tuna cans in her recycling bin two streets away. He heard Lisa’s feet tromping off mud and rocks. He recognized the jerky swish and scrape of a carryall being emptied of evidence. Phil heard many
The Rose and the Open Window Read More »
WHAT IF you think your sibling is trying to kill you? Let me explain. I’m Chandra Edwards, sixteen years old, birthday May 28, high school sophomore, identical twin. I live in Montrose, the dullest small town that ever existed. My parents are realtors, the successful founders and owners of Homes
When the ocean called to my mother, I had just turned 17. A month later, when life became too excruciating for him to go through without her, my estranged father turned to the comforts of booze to soothe his sorrows. I thought our relationship couldn’t get worse. He was a
The following are journal excerpts taken from four in-resident counselors working a summer camp in coastal Georgia (c.2012). All entries are transcribed wholly and completely unfiltered. * James – 7/1/2012 This is a log of repeated occurrences from Tortoise Cabin (location—across the estuary from counselor quarters). Desc. For many, many
Having something you can’t control is difficult. That’s what I was thinking the other day when a coworker asked me if I had any experience sitting kids. I do. On top of being a full-time babysitter most of my teenage years, I had to put up with the shenanigans of
One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place. ― Emily Dickinson What does a madman’s mind look like from the inside? Does it look like an empty house with vandalized masonry, broken gates, cracked cement pathways
The Nevada heat rippled off the asphalt, distorting the long, empty road ahead. I wiped sweat from my brow and adjusted the camera strap around my neck, squinting at the horizon. No sign of the fox. No sign of anything, really. I should’ve been writing a real story—something that actually
If You Ever Stop in Ashbrook, Don’t Ask About the Children Read More »
Every flashlight in Moreau Bay scoured the forest for my missing wife, Jemma. All except his. His light pointed to the open water and lit a path to his strange little island about a kilometer from the coast. Two weeks passed with no signs of her and all I thought
I Went Undercover to a Body Farm Read More »
The Advertisement“Lookout wanted. For more information, call 1-800-200-2230” My eyes scanned the sentence thoroughly. The ad intrigued me, I never was one meant for city life. However, for the past four years that’s exactly what my life had been. Just another cog in the machine, wasting away at a desk
When I was ten years old, my brother came home to die on a frigid day in January. Purple lesions ravaged the skin that barely covered his bones. He looked an awful lot like a skeleton, unlike the friendly visitor I had come to know over my short lifetime. My
People Don’t Die. They Hide. Read More »
I put on my running shoes with springs, designed to cushion the impact on the ground. It was my nightly ritual, something I did every single day without fail: running to the neighboring town, keeping my body busy and my mind free of thoughts. It was almost five o’clock, and
The blood dripped down the chest of the woman, her body limp in my arms. My teeth released her neck, leaving behind two dots of red. I let her fall to the ground, her thick clothes muffling the thud. The life I had taken now reverberated within my sterile veins.
All the Legends Say So Read More »
Mike and his mother Sarah lived in a sharply white two-story house about eight miles from the city and half a mile away from a red diner which worked throughout the week and the weekend. The house was adjacent to naught else but the road and the forest. Mike was
The Man in the Attic Read More »
When I first moved out on my own, my mom handed me a small, weathered recipe book. Its cover was cracked and faded, the pages yellowed with age. She held it out to me with both hands, her expression soft and serious. “Take care of this,” she said, her voice
I remember the day I found it as if it were yesterday. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the flea market on the outskirts of our quaint little town. It was the kind of day where everything seemed still, the heat lingering, pressing
The Blood Moon Rising Read More »
My eight-year-old daughter’s screams pierce the quiet night as I check the time on my watch; it reads 10:12 pm. Anxious, I make my way to her bedroom and push the door open, flicking on the light switch. There she is, sitting up in bed, tears streaming down her face.
Mr. Chickenhead Man Read More »
It didn’t look fun. It looked like quite the opposite. Standing in front of me was a large funhouse. Chipped and faded paint coloured it’s exterior. I had lost my friends in the endless stream of people walking around the Halloween festival. The smell of candy corn and other sweets
Reflection of The Senses Read More »
Ten people. Ten people in ten different places doing ten different things, but all sharing one single thought… “What if it really works?” You see, in our little town of Sawnhurst, California, there was an age old tradition tied to a myth so old that is origins were not remembered
My parents died in a car crash on their way home from dropping me off my freshman year at Stanford. I never got the chance to call and tell them I was all settled in. They lay bleeding out in the street, while I was decorating my room in crimson.
The Things We Do for Family Read More »
It was the last thing I remembered before my dad’s passing. The first time I saw it. I was eight years old at the time. It was dark outside my bedroom window and my eyes had a familiar burn. Tears dampened my young cheeks. My breath stuttered as it visited
The Puppet Theater in My Attic Read More »
I was eighteen at the time. I’d just graduated high school, and what was probably a really exciting and memorable time for most people was a stressful race against time for me. You see, my dad was very traditional; if I were going to be living in his house after
Memories of the Graveyard Shift Read More »
Liam looked down, shaking as he glared at the blood encrusted on his hands. It was not his own. The infernos of the destruction before him were nailed into his brain. He felt lost and confused. He did not mean to do it; he was just tired of the pain
My friend Sam has always been troubled… the sort of kid you knew would go down the wrong path and wind up in the news. I remember when the story about Daniel Petric came out. He was that teen who, back in 2007, took his father’s gun from a safe
My best friend boasted it’s easy to get away with murder.… Read More »
