Two months ago we moved into our new place.  It’s honestly amazing: huge property, beautiful forests, and an old barn out back that my wife Lydia hoped to remodel into a workshop.  She loves wood carving. We have two sons and a daughter.  Elliot is ten,...

I cannot share all the details of what happened on March 3rd, 2018.  As a doctor, I’m not allowed to share certain private details, so names have been changed, and I do not mention what hospital I worked at at the time.  There has to...

Tarmac turns to dirt, and the van bounces across uneven ground, causing my pen to roll off the passenger seat and the hanging cross to swing violently from side to side. There he is, walking straight towards me, about a hundred yards head, swaying his...

I should have taken more notice of the graffiti when I arrived at the Highbrooks. But the sad fact is that the strange scribblings on the complex were the least of my worries here. Traveling alone is never something I would recommend when you are in an...

My family cottage in rural Maine has remained unvisited for eight years. We used to use it about every summer for two to three weeks when we were kids. Somewhere between June to the start of September, typically at this mosquito-infested spot in this fairly...

New Orleans is a city alive with death. Things have a way of coming back from beyond. There’s something about the city that gives everything an extra spark. That sort of force can interact with the world in strange ways. One of those ways was the...

My brother Marcus was already dead before I came to Odessa.  He was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer just six months ago, making him a walking corpse. When he got the news, it changed him.  He started to do crazier and crazier things, just to get...

Urban legends are the bread and butter of the American culture.  No matter where you go in this beautiful country, you will find whispers of these dark tales that often circulate around a campfire, and perhaps none as prevalent as the stories concerning crybaby bridges. A...

My name is Harry, and I’m dying. Less than a few weeks ago, I was in my car, sitting on a ledge.  Engine revved, looking toward the open lake.  I could hear geese calling out and looked toward the clouds to see they were breaking through...

I sat at the ornately filled table with an involuntary smirk on my face as I absentmindedly fiddled with the discarded paper wrapper that had once contained my plastic straw, wasteful I know. My mind drifted to each member of the table, all family members...

The old man’s eyes were cobalt. Deep blue as the North Atlantic and just as stormy. Effortless would it be to imagine an old and proud 44 gunship skudding under topsails with the wind, Wandering Albatrosses gliding with ease above the ship’s wake, the great...

(This story is part of the Grey Michael series. For the first part in the series, entitled Grey Michael, click the preceding story's title) Let me set the scene for you. The room is dark, enclosed, underground. The floor is smooth stone, chalked with a dizzying array...

The scarecrow stands around twelve feet tall. A lone, misshapen sentinel in the midst of a dark field, beneath the blood of a clotted red sky. His shadow is long across the crops. Comprised not of two simple poles and a sack of straw, this monstrosity is...

When people told someone like Chad Hoftrand to get a life, they didn’t realize that meant a death sentence for someone, somewhere. He was in the market for a new life sooner than expected.  He could usually hold onto one for at least a few years. But...

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