Braden Powell tends the most envied garden in Graybury, a flourishing oasis that seems almost enchanted. But behind its locked gates and beneath its fertile soil lie secrets shaped by sorrow. His wife, Meredith, lives in the shadows of their home, haunted by the loss of their son and the silence that followed. When justice fails the family once more, Braden finds himself turning to the one place he understands: the garden. A brooding tale of loss, revenge, and the strange roots of healing, this story asks what we’re willing to bury—and what may grow from it ...

I grew up in a small town. Small towns always have the strangest stories. There aren't many impressive landmarks to speak of, or famous things that took place here. Honestly, I have spent all nineteen of my years growing up in this place without ever experiencing anything significant. I didn't ...

My friend Ben got married at the Bellwether, an old hotel about forty minutes from my apartment. I booked a room because I intended to drink, and because attending a wedding six months after your divorce is easier when you know you can leave without explaining yourself. By eleven, I’d ...

He seemed the gentlest of creatures, almost like a cartoon mouse or an Asian Charlie Chaplin, complete with a black bowler and cane.  His gait was a little awkward…kind of a stutter-step on the verge of severe drunkenness, with the cane saving him from the pavement at every curb or ...

My name is Marcus Zimmerman, and I need someone to hear my story without deciding I’m crazy from the start.  Call me stupid if you like, or worse, but I swear I’m not a liar. The police kept asking me why I went into a condemned apartment building to meet ...

My name is Sherman Lane. Sherman, like the kid with the glasses in Mr. Peabody and Sherman, and Lane, like the butler in The Importance of Being Earnest. I own a shop in the Haight in San Francisco. It’s a small occult shop named The Arcane located at the end ...

It was 6:00 am when Martin Dillinger opened the door to his room at the Hiawassee Motor Lodge. He squinted and put his hand above his brow to block the bright, orange rays that stretched over and around Bell Mountain, hugging its peak as if the sluggish old ball needed ...

The porch light was always off when I walked up the driveway, but that never meant the house was dark. The pale glow of the television flickered through the living room blinds, casting long, bruised shadows across the overgrown grass. Fifteen years isn’t much time on this earth, but it ...

I opened the messenger app. I hadn’t done much. It was my day off as I had submitted my assignment on the Duke of Wellington’s strategy at the Battle of Waterloo the day before. I was bored and in a bad mood. John had called me but missed. He had ...

Agent Kirk Winston had gone radio silent ten miles from New Growth, Alabama. That was why I was sitting in Room 6 of the New Growth Inn, field-stripping my Glock on a bedspread that smelled faintly of mildew and cigarette smoke, along with some other cloying aroma I couldn’t identify ...

When I was a boy, I lived with my mother in an old house in Georgia. It was small, and most parts of it were fairly worn, but the asking price was low, and we needed a home. It wasn’t all bad, though. The place had a pretty large backyard ...

The lights of the Seattle skyline suddenly ignite as the city comes alive with the sounds and sights of night. In a run-down bar a lone man sits beneath the hum of a florescent overhead light as he holds his whiskey in shaky hands. The man is an enigma. He ...

Part I I set these words down in no expectation that they will avail me, nor even with the confidence that they may serve as a warning to any soul unfortunate enough to encounter them. There are accounts which men write to clarify memory, and others which they compose in ...

I own a pizza place. People hear that and picture something cozy. Brick oven. Family recipes. A guy in a clean apron tossing dough in the air while Sinatra plays in the background. What I actually own is a small-town grease trap with a sign out front. Bell’s Pizza had ...

Christopher Ingram came out of the grocery store with two paper bags in his arms and found a sheet of paper tucked under the wiper blade of his car. At first he thought it was an ad for roofing or gutter work. Then he looked down the row and saw ...

Lyndsay found her mother Tina in the kitchen and said she had found noodles from another dimension in the basement. She said it plainly, with no sign that she thought anything about it was strange. She was holding a plastic horse in one hand and had a streak of pink ...

Vicky and Kevin Chandler woke to a crash from down the hall, followed by the sharp clang of toy cymbals and a heavy thump that shook the wall. A second later, their son started screaming. By the time they reached Owen’s room, he had backed himself into the corner of ...

Chapter 1 “The Tunnel to Hell” The mountain groaned and geysers of fire burst from its sides. Clouds of sulphur whirled around its peak like bird murmurations and the sky churned over in red spasms all around. At the base of Dragon’s Back Mountain, Royce was still sewing up the ...

Kellen Mitchell’s car died on a stretch of county road with no houses, no traffic, and no reason for the engine to fail. One moment, the dash was lit; the next, everything went black, and the wipers stopped in mid-swipe. Rain hammered the windshield. When he opened the door, he ...