Doesn’t Matter
The good kind of quick, if there’s a good kind.
Dark
Spirit
The dog is frozen against the fence post.
Station Seven
The air tastes like ammonia and bleach and something underneath both.
Haley Alone
Nothing but a trail of broken bone and rotten flesh.
In the Eye of the Sandstorm
A gust of wind stirred up the dust of the deserted street.
The Bogeyman
Amen.
Bump in the Night
Matted-hair and rotted teeth
The Picnic
*If you go down in the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise.
Jonas
Jonas leaped over the barricade and wormed his way through an opening in the quarantine fence without being noticed, his stolen prize held tightly in his jaws.
Haley’s Homecoming
I hitched my knapsack up over one shoulder and got off the bus.
Thanksgiving
“Good man, where might I find your nearest mooring dock?
Manhunt
Leaves crunched noisily under foot despite their practiced woodsman experience.