Horror

I was just a kid from Saragossa, in Aragon. Christian Spain at its most honest and authentic. Bad soil, tough meat, sour wine, sparse firewood . . .

I was never one of those people who hates the rain. Some people—most, I suppose—see the gray clouds rolling in like fluffy waves and feel the first few drops tap…

Leo ran his pawnshop out of a brick storefront he rented in a strip mall just outside of town. It had a Cut-Rate Vacuum on one side and on the…

The stockings were up, the tree was strung, and the night was aging quickly, when John saw Matty sit up in bed and stare wide-eyed at the ceiling. “He’s here,”…

It was August 2075 in Brussels. A dying arts and antiquities dealer needed an heir – a suitable one, one that wouldn’t squander and ruin the business he had spent…

“Now it says here that you used to eat your paints? Can this be true?” Graham Norton asks his guest with a hint of amused disgust as he shuffles through…

“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” she said, tapping the ash from her cigarette. They were sitting outside on the back porch. It was August, still warm in the…

If you’re not all winged-up and fingering a harp in the lap of the Lord by now, then maybe you’re here. Maybe you’re ghosting around the foyer that still reeks…

Unbeknownst to his wife, Edwin Hersek was involved in a full-blown affair.   Her name was Gina and she sat in Edwin’s garage looking lovely as ever.  He ran his hand…

Tourette’s Crucible “I am sick of meetings; cannot a man turn his head without he have a meeting?” —Putnam, The Crucible. “Yip, yip, bark, shit-fuck-shit.” —Anonymous Tourette’s Sufferer. Act 1…