It’s funny how the silence of a park at night can feel like both a sanctuary and a prison. For me, it had always been the former. I’d sit for hours on a worn-out bench under the skeletal branches of an old oak tree, the frigid winter air biting at […]
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I had always loved the night sky, be it for the twinkling light of the stars, the clever smile of the crescent moon or that every night my mother would tell me stories as we gazed upon them together. She would bundle me up in my favorite blue blanket only
I work the night shift at a local mom-and-pop convenience store at the front of my neighborhood. We sell snacks, drinks, milk, bread, all the normal stuff that people need but aren’t willing to make a traditional run to the grocery store for. There was talk about adding a gas
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state
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I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find
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I open my eyes, yet they do not see. I reach out with my hands, yet I am constrained. I inhale deeply, but dank air fills my lungs. Where am I? My mind races as I try to remember how I got in this predicament. It is pitch blackness that
The storm slithered across the countryside, consuming all in its path. Hurricanes are nasty, especially in southern Florida. This one was a category four, with sustained winds of 150 miles per hour. Most people evacuate in such a tempest, but not my grandpa. The man is as stubborn as a
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The ball flew towards the boy. With a cry of alarm, the boy dropped to the floor. “Damnit Jimmy, you’re supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried. A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher’s mound to
The lanky man rolled a blunt with one hand, a trick only the most committed stoners can manage. After pinching the two ends together he lit up in his car. Smoke saturated the claustrophobic space, filling the car with a dim haze. He leaned his seat back watching the freshly
A man washed ashore last week. He looked as though he had not eaten in weeks and was barely clinging to life. I, along with much of the town, was elated when we discovered it was Will Harper who had washed ashore, and that he would make a full recovery.
It was late one evening, and I was sat at my kitchen table, just typing away on my laptop, working on my latest screenplay. You see, I am a horror writer. I write stories of the dark and macabre, with the express purpose of selling them to major studios with
The Night Ice Cream Truck Read More »
This will not be a typical story. In fact, what I intend to share includes several different events, which I have only recently come to see as being linked. Despite this newfound clarity, however, I have been unable to adequately explain what occurred, and the continuing aftermath remains beyond the
Behind the Shadows Read More »
