“What’s that sound?” asks my wife, Kadie. She and I lie in the loft of the barn, the wan light of a cloudy dusk making the world a shadow play through the unshuttered hay door on the west side of… Continue Reading
“I said it was aliens from space what took her.” Detective Southby looked away as if I had said something really stupid. He stuck his spiral notebook and pen in his coat pocket. The blackened circle of grass centered in… Continue Reading
“Please, don’t,” I plead, placing sweating palms on the counter, my heart racing. It’s all I can think to say. It’s not enough. The clerk’s eyes flick toward me, back to the gunman, who’s looking away, checking for other customers.… Continue Reading
They sat on the couch staring at the television, he in baggy pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt, she in a faded flannel nightgown and a pair of his black socks. “It’s getting chilly,” she said. “Uh-huh. You want me to… Continue Reading
“Oh, look. A new study finds that sugar causes depression. How about that, May. I guess we’ll have to quit eating sugar. We don’t want depression. Depression will kill ya.” Harold’s hands tapped his viewing screen, making it scroll. “Yes… Continue Reading
Something brought her out of sleep. A scream, she thought. It was guttural, near inhuman, and seemed to stretch out into the expanse of night and recede into the dark. She couldn’t tell if it had been real. She didn’t… Continue Reading
I hate meetings, I do. The meetings to which I am invited involve sitting around looking at charts while technicians and engineers shout numbers at one another. It sounds like an auction house for the clinically insane. “What’s the differential?”… Continue Reading
Twenty-five years of marriage, and Freddie had never once told Ellen she’d had a good idea. “Not a bad idea,” he’d say, if she suggested two-for-one night at the Taco Palace, or “This isn’t bad at all,” when she served… Continue Reading
The sirens went off when they were having their usual argument: the one that was about chores when it started off and cycled through his mother, her mother, the relative value of their esteem, their plans for the summer, and… Continue Reading
There you are, standing atop the Natural Bridge at Red River Gorge, Kentucky hugging a pine tree, pretending to be afraid to let go. But you aren’t pretending. You’re afraid of heights. It is mid-September, 1984. This picture was taken… Continue Reading