I don’t allow myself to buy a doormat for my home anymore. I lived in an apartment complex about five years ago right in the heart of New York City. I was living alone at the time, my family was in Rhode Island, and with me being new to the […]
In every neighbourhood, on every street in North America there is that one person who just doesn’t fit in with the rest. Sometimes they are an elusive recluse that rarely ventures much further then the mailbox. Sometimes they are a grumpy senior citizen who seems to hate all things fun.
The Secrets of Mr. Thomas Read More »
Before I get to me, I need to start here. There’s a story people began telling in our town of Casper. They call it the Tale of Sam Fuller. A while back, Sam and his little brother Toby were playing by the lake. Sam was using a rock to write
The Tale of Sam Fuller Read More »
Late one night, I found myself driving down what seemed like an endless stretch of road. I was on my way back from a week-long business trip, facing at least a twelve-hour drive home. Having always been scared of flying, the monotonous trek was unavoidable. Though tedious and sometimes downright
A Diner Open 25 Hours a Day Read More »
When I was twelve, I came to the conclusion that everyone in the world, including my own family, was against me. I was never a problem child, but my parents sure treated me like one. For example, I used to need to be home by 5:00 pm every day. This
World’s Best School Psychologist Read More »
Wednesday, July 12th, 2017 The dynamic of memory has confounded me for my entire life. Memory is itself a living being, eternally aging until it decays and fades away. Each memory lives through its life cycle. Full of vitality in birth and hollow and weak in death. Like the people
My name isn’t really important, but for now, I’ll go by Monty. A little backstory, I grew up in a small town just outside of Hartford, Connecticut. Real nice place where everyone knew everyone, you never locked your doors, had a real charm to it. Nicest bunch of folks you
Why I Don’t Go Trick-or-Treating Anymore Read More »
“Can we go on the roller coaster?” “Sure we can,” Kent assured his son, whose eyes brimmed with hope and enthusiasm. Little Brian ran ahead towards the ride as his father walked quickly behind. It was one of those old, rickety coasters that won’t keep you from falling out unless
Here is the journal I kept during my time at The Ash House. At times I was unable to write, so some entries are recorded by memory. At the time of this journal, I had just been dropped off to the Ash House by my old parents. This journal spans
I’ve been blind since birth. As I grew up, everything was described to me in such vivid detail that I didn’t even realize why it was that important to see, especially having no reference point to compare it. We lived in a single-floor ranch house, that’s what Father told me.
My Father Punished Me When I Talked to Ghosts Read More »
The little girl stood outside the door. She stared at it, fidgeting with the frills of her dress. She could always wait until tomorrow… No. She had to ask now. She wanted it and she knew she wasn’t going to change her mind anytime soon. Stepping forward, she knocked on
A Big Responsibility Read More »
“Dad, just a few more houses, pleeeasseee?” Why did I say yes? I blame myself every day, but how could I not? If you saw his face, if you saw those big beautiful brown eyes staring up at you I don’t see how you could refuse. My son, Daniel, dressed
Don’t Ever Take Your Eyes Off Your Children This Halloween Read More »
Henry had gone missing in Mexico weeks ago, and Lois kept getting these bizarre letters in the mail. She had assumed the first four envelopes she’d received in the first four days of the month afterward were to the wrong address or a mistake. However, the fifth envelope contained a
Peter Pan is not what most people think he is… or I guess I should say, would be, but honestly, he’s real. I have not only seen him, but have also… felt him. I met Peter Pan when I was about 11 years old. It had been a hard day
The Truth About Peter Pan Read More »
Our twelve-year-old daughter loved the new vintage-styled TV that my husband and I bought the other day at the local pawn shop in town. She would sit there and stare at the round, blank dusty screen with her hazel eyes fixated on the glass as if there was something playing
The soggy heathland hugged itself underneath a dome sky. Tracts of mire lay sunken in some places, valleys of soft earth unable to withstand the oppressive atmosphere above it, while other acres were crumpled against the high rock beneath them. Dry and tender grass creased by an icy warm wind,
I don’t think I can put into words, how good it feels being a Father. I love Daniel more than I could possibly say. His bright, shining smile, his endless curiosity about the world around him, and his gentle, loving nature. I didn’t think I was capable of loving someone
Why I Hate Lightning McQueen Read More »
As Julie began to regain consciousness, she knew something wasn’t right. She started to panic as she realized she was strapped to a table. A big bright light beamed down onto her face, blinding her, as silhouettes moved silently around her. The silhouettes began to whisper. “She’s perfect, daddy, thank
We got to the hotel late. The kiddo was a mess, and so was I. I’d let Sally sleep through the flight while I tried to keep our two-year-old girl from having a total meltdown. As the plane started its final descent, my relief was punctured by an absolute nightmare
The sound of the car engine coughing and sputtering made my heart sink and my stomach knot. I always had a bad feeling about driving something that was twenty-three years of age. Even though it only had a hundred-thousand miles on it and had gotten me many places, I always
A Very Lonely Road Read More »
“Speak louder, please.” I put my hand up next to my ear from the back of the room, signaling that she would need to raise her voice. She took a deep breath. I could see anxiety turning her cheeks beet red, as strands of blonde hair began to fall out
Mommy Sleeps in the Basement Read More »
I moved into my apartment complex two months ago. I started hearing things a week later. It was subtle at first. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would wake up to a faint scratching sound from somewhere behind the walls. I thought it could be mice. Or rats.
The Empty Apartment Read More »
I remember when I first moved into this accursed house, I was 10 years old and loved all the things a ten-year-old boy loves, you know; climbing trees, catching bugs, playing cowboys and Indians, those sorts of things. We had moved from the hussle and bussle of “The Big Smoke”
Whispers from the Woods Read More »
The scratching of graphite on paper. The short, whispered phrases. The gentle, distant ticking of a muffled old grand-father clock. These are my recollections of my time talking to Thomas Berkley in January, 1980. I was called in to see Mr Berkley at short notice. My time in Boston was
