Jonas scraped at his burgeoning five o’clock shadow. It was fast money. A hook-and-drop job two hours south. If he pushed it, he could be back in his sagging mattress in Page before midnight. His rig roared as he downshifted into the last curve of this stretch of Highway 89. The chains rattling in his empty flatbed rose to a din on the decaying asphalt. He flicked on the satellite radio, trying classic rock, but the whining guitars and drums redoubled the drone rather than dr

The children, they wept. The sterile white collection room and stern uniforms of the phlebotomists always elicited this reaction. Mr....

BACK TO PART 1 BACK TO PART 2 BACK TO PART 3 BACK TO PART 4 LEAF LITTER PART 5 This forest is different. It thrums with sounds...

If you haven't read it yet, my Dracula-inspired horror series, Leaf Litter, is now available on YouTube.