The rain hadn’t let up for days now. It just threw itself relentlessly onto the streets and made it so you couldn’t read the neon signs; Gray had to get right up to close to a bar to see which one he was going in to. (more…)
flash fiction
Sova, The Owlman
The children all knew the rule: don’t cross the barrier between the playground and the old cemetery. If you did, Sova would get you. Well, the second part wasn’t the part that the adults enforced, but it was true. It seemed every year one kid thought they would be brave and do it, and every year they would disappear.
Mention My Name at the Lucky Duck
Death stood by Harlan Jacobs’ bed.
