The Dog Days of Summer
Katie and Jason rolled their bikes through the thick forest. Their shoes crunched over the fallen pine needles, and the sweltering August heat slipped through the tree branches like boiling water.
More issues
Royalty
We received a mundane call for a corpse found in the Downtown Wilson Apartments. Anne Elliot was found rotting in her living room after a foul smell was reported by a number of residents.
Mr. Loveless in Room 719
It’s not looking good for the Angels. Top of the seventh, Game 6, series tied up at three a piece, and the Giants are leading 4-0, just ten outs away from winning it all.
A Distant Howling
His prey was close by, crouched and trembling among a dense thicket of blackberry bushes, its breath visible in the cold night air.
Belgrade Butcher
The first thing my wife says to them is: “No one is coming to help you. No one will ever come. Get that out of your head. The only person who can help you is yourself.”
Introduction to What We Talk About When We Talk About Horror and Other Stories
What I’m about to write won’t sound like your usual introduction to a collection of short stories, especially not someone’s first collection. For one thing, I’ve decided to write it myself instead of asking someone like Clive Barker, Stephen King...
Dead Pixels
The first thing Ruby could sense was the man’s breath. The scent of a clove cigarette—with Caesar salad dressing. He stood behind her, breathing heavily, as though he had walked a long distance at an anxious pace.
The Mouth inside the Pillow
The mouth jutting out of the pillow had the teeth of a piranha, snapping its jaws, dripping thick, gooey yellow saliva, and making tiny squeaks that echoed like distant screams.
Dolly
A sticky-sweet aroma from a new air freshener made the car’s interior seem like a low-rent nail salon, both acrid and artificial—the way an eleven-year-old girl would smell if she were given fifteen dollars and free rein at a fragrance kiosk in the mall.
Twas the Night Before Christmas
Jake Norton was tired of hearing everyone’s talk about Santa Claus. At twelve, he was pretty sure he’d outgrown the chimney stories—or so he told his parents.