A Damn Good Park
A flick and whiz interrupted the tranquility as a man standing on the pier across the way cast a fishing rod, his dark silhouette set against the reddish-orange sunglow of the waning day. The baited hook struck the glassy, mirrored surface of the pond, sending ripples cascading outwards and causing a nearby goose and its…
The Mirror in the Basement of Waverly Manor – Part 3
If you haven’t read parts 1 or 2, read them first! I kneeled for what seemed like hours with Agatha’s sanguineous cries taunting me as they echoed all around. It sounded as if I were trapped in a tight cave rather than an endless white void. With this, the seeds of my madness were sown,…
The Mirror in the Basement of Waverly Manor – Part 2
This time, it was undeniable; the sound was coming from the mirror. I approached and warily tugged on the canvas. It slid into a heap on the ground, revealing my reflected self in the impeccably clean mirror. I waved my hand, and my reflection followed. I made a goofy face, and my image dutifully followed…
The Mirror in the Basement of Waverly Manor – Part 1
I leaned against one of the pieces and accidentally knocked off its canvas covering, revealing a luxurious full-body mirror with ornate mahogany carvings around the edges. I instantly became transfixed by my reflection, unable to tear myself away. An eerie grin began to creep across my reflected face when, suddenly, Mrs. Waverly dashed across…
Blog: “The Mirror in the Basement of Waverly Manor”
I’ve been working on my new story, “The Mirror in the Basement of Waverly Manor,” for almost a year now because my life lately has been fundamentally unstable in the best possible way. Emily and I ended our lease last August and left Atlanta to travel across 9 European countries in 13 weeks, seeking glory…
Short Story: “The Onion Boy”
The Onion Boy does not sleep, for night is the time he furtively toils, collecting and consuming dreams. His appetite is never satisfied. He moves on to the next sleeping victim with the prior still weighing freshly in his stomach — for he is sure they will be digested in time for his next meal.
Blog: “The Onion Boy”
I must have been twelve or thirteen when I first got a cell phone, and little did I know it would usher a brave new world of kaleidoscopic modern horrors into my life. No, I’m not talking about the nearly all-consuming screen addiction I’ve developed, as my phone has become more like an appendage rather…
Announcement Re: “CAPTCHA”
420 words, ~1.5 minute read time. The accompanying short story is hyperlinked here. I have been reading an essay collection by E.B. White, and one quote has stuck with me: “I do feel a responsibility to society because of going into print: a writer has the duty to be good, not lousy; true, not false;…
CAPTCHA
4,900 words, ~20-minute read time. The accompanying blog post is linked here. Bright red text flashed on the screen: “Fatal Error: Your password and/or CAPTCHA is incorrect.” I gritted my teeth. My neck muscles tensed. An unhelpful pop-up appeared with this definition: “CAPTCHA stands for ‘Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans…
The Lonely Wolf
The first scant glimmers of the full moon seeped through the cloud coverage, and Max started to feel the transformation begin its infernal machinations inside him. He took a deep breath and stood, ready to change, when he heard a beautiful, lilting voice beckon from behind him.
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The River
The green darkness seemed to unravel and open as he drove further and further down the road towards his home. The full moon guided him down the pathway and illuminated the forest around him. It seemed as if there was a macabre puppet show being produced by the arms of the trees. The pitch black…
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