. . . wherever his pen dyes paper black, Night reaches up to etch itself. — Rutherford
Isaac and Billy
They’d been walking for three days when they saw the place. Isaac knew instantly that this was it. His father stopped, sucked in his breath, closed his eyes and waited…
Vampire Victims Club
I meet a group of middle-aged ladies at the diner. I cannot tell you their names, or what they look like. I am good at details, but I cannot describe…
The Dire Prophecy of Seaman Flack
The lined foolscap sheets were yellow at the edges and the writing was faded but legible. The paper was stapled in three lots, headed SESSIONS I, II, III and dated…
Glut Hut
Christopher Eastman leans across the front passenger seat, framing himself in the window as he waves goodbye. Daniel, giddy in his straitjacket booster seat . . .
The Flowers in Billy’s Garden
In late February, snowdrops slowly lifted their sleepy heads from their cold wet blankets. These flowered alone, waiting patiently for March and the great melting. When the weather began to…
A Late Love
In the halcyon days of the mid twentieth century, when cars were big and skirts were short, it was an accepted idea that one could choose a career, pursue and…