A week after they drained the reservoir, the dead returned to the glen. The first reports came from contractors hired to dismantle the old dam. They spoke to the local paper about corpses in the glen, walking the newly exposed… Continue Reading
I see them all; the titles people don’t know they have floating above their heads. Usually they’re pretty benign. “The Father” or “The Architect” or something else run-of-the-mill. I thought I’d seen them all a thousand times. I was young… Continue Reading
Adam pulled over in the layby below the dam. He was always awed by the scale of it, the vast sheerness of the concrete face, its unconditionally anti-natural design. They used to sit half-way along the top of it, the… Continue Reading
This experience of transitioning to consciousness must be similar to what humans called “awakening,” though I have never slept. One moment I am nothing — a collection of particles and bursts of energy. Then, I’m aware of my surroundings: light,… Continue Reading
It was late August, and I was still too young to attend school. I remember walking with my mother on the hillside path near our home at Dark Byte, along the rugged Labrador coastline. We were on our way for… Continue Reading
Gus (4’ 2”), Aidan (4’ even), and Sawyer (4’ 1¾”) spit into their palms, shook hands, and called the meeting of the Sycamore Street Clubhouse (No Girls Allowed!) to order. All three boys took a seat in the garden shed… Continue Reading
The day my brother, Murdoch, stopped talking he looked down a well and saw something he wasn’t supposed to see. The well was on Old Man Mitchell’s property south of town where junk covered the front lawns. Murdoch heard about… Continue Reading
The fade began at the very edge of Nan’s life. Like an old photo, left in the sun. The colors of her peripheral vision began to wash out. She made a note to get her eyes checked. But her eyes… Continue Reading
I was a nerd in high school. The smart kid. It wasn’t like on TV, getting beaten up or stuffed in lockers. But I also wasn’t in any of the cliques, and none of the girls were interested. It was… Continue Reading
When I was sixteen it was my fantasy to get beaten up. I was sure that a blinding fist to the eye and a broken nose would trigger a release in me, in the same way I imagined jumping off… Continue Reading