We all have that friend who we wish we could have done more for. Who we wish could have done better. I’ve been thinking about that a lot recently. See, it all goes back to my friend Clark, and the horror we both encountered six years ago. Clark and I
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I grew up in a small town in the Midwest. Now when I say that it’s a small town, I mean other people from my state have never even heard of it. That being said, for such a small town it actually has a pretty dark history. In 1927, my
I found it three weeks ago, or rather, I found them. A knotted circle of fur, claws, and death. Six rats, tangled together by their tails, thrashed about my front lawn with little direction. Their shrieks pierced the air of what was normally a quiet street. I was going outside
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“I want to hear about the Spindler.” Logan listened as the voices of his three friends talked. He watched as the fire before him dwindled. “You sure you wanna do that, Lexi? In these woods?” Logan’s back was firmly set against the back of a broad, old oak; he sat
Jack Mckay huddled in the cold midnight street with a pale green sleeping bag encasing his lower half. Spindled trails of light reflected off the gleaming roads from damp lampposts. But the cold wasn’t what gave Jack his nightly jitters—not by a long shot. The small flame bewitched his green
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Once upon a time in a land far, far away there was a story that became well known in all the kingdoms of men. It started as a whisper in the back of ale-houses and progressed to the point of street-corner news barkers. No one knew if the story was
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During nightly hours of yore, in a time of horror and war, I would sit on a dank oak bench with my eyes shut, calm and closure. Then, my eyes open when I sense a figure approach me with grace. One of nature’s eccentric frights perched itself above my shoulder.
Dear Mr. Valentine, As per your request, I’ve collected reliable morsels of information from the many and often incoherent accounts that detail the events which transpired in Merton on September 2nd, 1996. It is only with great reluctance that I reveal this information to you, for I fear for my
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People always get the wrong end of the stick when I tell them that my grandad was a Nazi. I mean, of course he was in the Leipzig branch of the Hitler Youth as a teen, joined the party when old enough and, in December of 1943, was drafted into
When I was a child, the mummers came to town. It was not quite Solstice’s Eve yet. The nights were long and dark, and most nights a thin, jagged coat of haw frost would top the trees in glistening frigidity. What few horses the rich owned would stamp and whinny
I consider myself to be a logical being. My experiences in life have led me to such a conclusion that approaching problems from a skeptical and logical viewpoint is in my best interest and is, as far as I understand it, the best way to live one’s life. Not to
Bitter cold was nothing new for Northern Alberta, especially not for January, and the cacophony of wind that tore through the woodlands was nothing if not wholly familiar and almost comforting to the one that huddled in the tree line, obliterated from vision by the pitch of night and the
I’m unsure of what to say. All I can say is that I’m scared. Very scared. My hands shake violently as I hastily scribble down a few words onto the coarse wooden tablet. This is my only hope. “In the month of Tammuz, day 25 of the year 569, I,
It had to be close to 12 now. The silver gleam of the full moon was spilling through the woodland trees, illuminating all it touched. Evan looked at his watch. It was 5 minutes to 12. Although it was not a necessity, Evan wanted to get there by midnight. For
Chapter 1 What I’m about to tell you will seem unbelievable, inconceivable, and I’m sure downright made up. I can’t help the way that it sounds. I can only tell you what happened, what I remember, and hope that someone finds it within their compassionate soul to believe me. I
Stonehenge is one of the great mysteries of our world. Erected almost six-thousand years ago, these ten-ton slabs of stone make up one of the seven wonders of ancient times. But how did it get there, and why? —- Nan’uk stepped cautiously on the grass, his footsteps carefully muffled. The
The young maiden knelt amongst the rubble and smoldering wreckage that was once her simple home. Smoke plumed into the sky and ash hung thick in the air. It stung her eyes, but that was not the cause for the tears streaming down her cheeks. She was in mourning. The
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It only took her a moment to figure out that this wasn’t where she wanted to be. The paint chipped and wallpaper peeled down as if bowing its head in resignation to the dilapidated state of the facility. She walked gingerly up the hall, dodging the debris that lay scattered
Kneeling before the Knight, Edwin accepted the scroll with great honor. It was such an odd thing he held; one of the likes he had never experienced before. The parchment was cold to the touch and made from leather of the deepest black. It was absent of moisture. Still, it
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A tropical retreat in Cozumel full of sun bathing or scuba diving? Kayaking with the whales, or sky diving in Nova Scotia? Or how about that eerie and highly illegal trip into the Paris catacombs where Holestead paid the fine eagerly without batting an eyelash almost as if he had
When hiking alone in my twenty-fifth year in the southwestern barrens of the Newfoundland interior highlands, I found myself lost for three days in which events took place that disturbed me in ways I thought not possible. In those seventy-two hours I wandered aimlessly but not without purpose into what
I thought it was a great house and at a price we could afford, despite being laid off after ten years of steady employment and a new baby in my wife’s arms. The area was rural, the nearest neighbors not even a sight from our kitchen window, and the previous
Publisher’s Note: This is a companion piece to Slum. I never liked Rustic Gables Skilled Nursing Facility. Years ago, I worked as an EMT for MediTrans Ambulance Service. We did inter-facility transports, mostly dialysis runs and hospital discharges, so I spent a lot of time around crappy nursing homes. But
AN INTRODUCTION First and foremost, a few matters of introduction have to be placed down. You are probably wondering who I am. What am I called? What does the barista misspell on my steaming paper cup? Well, this is my first lesson to you, and I promise we will get
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