Land of Fright

Everlasting Death The souls of the newly deceased take on solid form and the Earth quickly begins to fill with immovable statues of death… This horror short story is now available on Amazon.

Absolute Madness

The first few months after the soulstones started appearing had been absolute madness. No one knew what was going on. No one knew how widespread it had become. It was mind-boggling how many people died every day, and the manner in which they died. Car crashes were common causes of death, but so were other accidents, and illnesses, and natural causes. Though I don’t why they call them natural causes; there is nothing natural about death any more. People died stepping out of their bathtub. People died straining on the toilet. People died in their sleep. People died having sex. People died from disease. People died from gunshot wounds or stab wounds. People died from drug overdoses. People died from allergic reactions. People died from all manner of unpredictable accidents. And they died in every conceivable place. They died in their living rooms, ironic but true. They died on their stairs. They died in the streets. They died in their cars. They died in stores. They died in parks. They died in hospitals. They died on the ocean. They died in the air. It was like a twisted Dr. Seuss story from Hell come to life.

The Throw-Aways A washed-up writer of action-adventure thrillers is menaced by the ghosts of the characters he has created. This horror short story is now available on Amazon.

Brock Knew Who The Man Was

Despite the murky moonlight shadowing the man’s features, Brock knew who the man was. He could tell by the long black hair that curled around the man’s broad shoulders. He couldn’t see it because of the dim light, but Brock knew the man had a long jagged scar on his face, running from beneath his right eye down across his cheek and under the right side of his nose. The scar pulsed when the man was angry. Brock wondered if the man was angry right now. Then he realized that was a foolish thought. Of course he was angry. The man was always angry. Isn’t that what I had named him? The Angry Man? Brock struggled to remember, but the fog of the rum and the lingering effects of too little sleep muddled his thoughts for a moment. Yes, the Angry Man. That was it, he thought. That was the man’s name. Angry Man.