The girl stood stock-still, her arms at her sides, on a bus bench along a two-lane road near a fast-food restaurant. She had on a ragged purple corduroy jumper and a blouse that never would be white again. A backpack… Continue Reading
My younger sister, Julie, sits on my bed cross-legged, watching me pack. Even though it’s only April my ten-year-old sister wears beige shorts, a pink T-shirt over a one-piece bathing suit. The purple pansies on the bathing suit can be… Continue Reading
The only thing between me and that saw-toothed bastard is a pair of black Nautica swim shorts. I take a deep breath and lean back into the life jacket. The afternoon sun bakes my face. Legs and arms underwater feel… Continue Reading
Show and tell at school was lame. Stamps and coins. Post cards and match book covers. Fred’s squashed frog. Even Bobby’s tarantula in a plastic cube. So I set out to find something worth talking about. I decided to collect… Continue Reading
“See anything you like?” the curse-broker asked, popping her head in through the door of the consultation room. Lauren looked up from the catalogue open across her lap. Last week, in those first moments of rage, the idea of supernatural… Continue Reading
Tonight, it’s dogs. A pack of feral dogs, silently following me through dark, unfamiliar streets. I move away, slowly but steadily, trying not to show fear. At least at first. The dogs don’t let me leave them behind, but they… Continue Reading
Silver tobacco fields streak by under a cloudless night sky. The road stretches on ahead, flat and straight. Hot air whistles in through the cracked window. My eyes flit between the rearview mirror, the speedometer, the road. Only a few… Continue Reading
The first stab was dead center between the eyes. The scissors were plunged all the way to the pivot joint then dragged downward slowly, deliberately so. Incision after incision followed. He held the handle so tightly his hand began to… Continue Reading
Sir Brandelis threw the creature’s head onto the floor of the demon’s throne room. It left a long blood trail as it slid across the smooth surface, stopping at the foot of the dais. The screams of the demon’s playthings… Continue Reading
The man at the controls thought about the people he was transporting. In airline parlance they’d be called “souls.” But the BART system had no such term. They were just people: skin-bags full of spaghetti, flank steak and fish brains.… Continue Reading