I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home we pass, a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. It reminds us that we are still living. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all. She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t…

I was never one for superstitions, but the events of the last few months have drastically changed my outlook on the cosmic forces at work in this world. It began last year when my best friend Lonzo and I had decided we had enough of our lives in South Florida and both pursued new careers in beautiful Butte, Montana. We had been friends since we were kids, and neither of us was happy with where our careers were at age 25, me a substitute teacher in the Miami-Dade Public System and Lonzo working construction after a series of knee injuries ended his chances of playing shortstop in the majors. We both had always loved the outdoors, along with our buddy…

Has anyone ever told you about the Night of the Emerald moon? It seems to be a tale passed on through generations in my hometown. Halloween originated in Ireland from our beliefs of a night that thinned the vail between our world and that of the spirits. The night of the emerald moon is known to thin the veil so finely that the more dark and deadly entities can have free reign among the town. The legend goes that the village council of Ballyfer deeply offended a lone traveller who was passing through many decades ago. This man was said to be involved in an incident at a game of poker one stormy night in Loftus Hall. Word had spread…

I have a… peculiar hobby. I mean, I guess you could call it a hobby, though it’s probably more of a habit of mine. Before I tell you what it is, let me tell you a bit about myself. My name is Jackson. Don’t worry about a last name, you don’t need one. I’m not famous or anything, so a last name isn’t important. Anyways, I have always loved doing risky stunts. You know those stunts that can be dangerous, potentially life threatening, yeah, those stunts. Ever since I can remember, I’ve always loved to put my life at risk just to get a cheap thrill out of it. It’s probably a pride thing, but either way, I just never…

It was well past midnight as I drove home from my new job. The pay wasn’t so good, and it was far from home, but I really had no choice considering I was behind on rent. Exhausted from working a long first day, I just wanted to get home and sleep. I thought I knew the way back, but I had arrived during daylight hours when it was easier to manage my new surroundings. Streetlights were scarce, which I hadn’t noticed in the afternoon. And to make matters worse, it was snowing. Somewhere along the way I must have taken a wrong turn, and soon I was completely lost. After driving aimlessly through unfamiliar neighborhoods, I finally came to a…

Way back in the deep woods there lived a scrawny old woman who had a reputation for being the best conjuring woman in the Ozarks. With her bedraggled black-and-gray hair, funny eyes – one yellow and one green – and her crooked nose, Old Betty was not a pretty picture, but she was the best there was at fixing what ailed a man, and that was all that counted. Old Betty’s house was full of herbs and roots and bottles filled with conjuring medicine. The walls were lined with strange books brimming with magical spells. Old Betty was the only one living in the Hollow who knew how to read; her granny, who was also a conjurer, had taught her…

Mike yawned. He wasn’t use to the late nights yet. It was only his second night shift, as far as I’m aware, and by the time he had crossed the room to grab his sixth or seventh drink of coffee from the machine just outside the office door, I was started to get irritated by him. He was a lot younger than me, about 20 years old, and the age gap annoyed me since he acted like a child most of the time. My usual co-worker for the night shift was on a vacation with our boss, since the two knew each other from college and had remained friends, so Mike was moved from the day shift to join me…

There was once a girl, whom I loved dearly… It was a night of solitude. I had been on my laptop mindlessly browsing the web, until I received a notification on Facebook, “Vida Rose requests to be your friend.” I accepted without a thought to mind, believing she must had found me through mutual friend suggestions. Throughout the night, I continued my browsing until the friend requester spontaneously messaged me, with a simple yet pleasant “Hi.” Despite the mysterious, and sudden messaging, I replied back out of good will with a mere “Hello.” From that point, we began speaking in-depth about one another, our hobbies, our lives, a few short stories of our past. It was a pleasant conversation… We’ve…

“Come play with me.” That line… it’s a cliché for the horror genre, is it not? You all know what I mean, the unsettling apparition of a child, or maybe just the voice, beckoning to you. What is it about children that gives them the ability to be so damn creepy? Maybe… maybe it’s the fact that, generally speaking, children are helpless and anyone with a nurturing side to their personality wants to help them and care for them. I mean, if any one of us saw a child in trouble, I’m sure we’d rush to help in whatever way we could… and in normal circumstances, if a child said “come play with me” someone might just pass a ball…

Some are inherently blessed with the ability to spin words into tales, as a glass spinner creates iridescent globes and faerie wings from the thinnest strands of molten sand. They can take the small components and, with ease and finesse, lay them over one another time and time again until the moment that the masterpiece is complete. At this point the light catches on a single aspect, and sets the whole thing shining and sparkling to all who receive it. All in all, it is a beautiful thing. I myself am not equipped with such a gift, but one of my acquaintances some time back invariably was. The subject was of no matter to him: He could make even the…