June 26th, 1977 The red brick obscenity rose up seven stories against the feverish New York City skyline. Dilapidation was the apartment’s principle character, though beneath the grime and squalor a strange dignity remained; hinting at the structure’s queer tenacity, its utter unwillingness to yield wholly to the ravages of time. Built in the style … Continue reading Though The Witches Are All Hung

The four young people stood around a wooden table, one per side. Heather had red hair and curves, Jason was stick thin with long hair and chin scruff, Cara was petite with purple hair, and Lorin’s head was buzzed. The table was bare but for thirteen apples, all arranged in a neat row. “You’re first,” … Continue reading Thirteen Apples

It was Wednesday evening at 461 High Dr. on an otherwise quiet week; when we say quiet, we mean nothing had deviated from the usual chaos and jittery thrill seeking the gang was accustomed to. Like slobbering dogs the boys were getting drunk playing Gin Rummy on the coffee table while the girls gossiped outside … Continue reading Souvenirs From Dead Man’s House

The SeaWorld dolphin enclosure always had a smell of semen to it. A combination of the stinking fish fed to the dolphins and the cutting bleach from the janitor’s custom-cleaning-detergent created the horrible scent. Joseph found himself breathing through his mouth every time his patrol route made its way east, past the manta-ray hut and … Continue reading Semen World

I The looters came in mobs, raiding homes and stores. At first, wakes of broken glass and the occasional vehicle fire. Then the cops stopped patrolling, and now there are bodies splayed in the roads and doubled over fences. No coroners in navy blue windbreakers. Instead, dogs tearing at the flesh. Rats and racoons.  All … Continue reading Sailor’s Knoll

He was a singularly odd shaped man, reminiscent of a sort of Innsmouth type but rodentlike rather than piscine. His shoulders were grotesquely rounded, in the manner of a quadruped almost, like an otter or squirrel, his short arms projected forward and down, no hint of the Germanic squareness one considers the norm. His spine … Continue reading The Rat-Man of Yellowdale Industrial

Hangover be damned, I hopped out of bed and slinked over to the bathroom in the nude, ready as ever for another day. I’d installed a makeshift kitchenette in the upstairs bathroom, right on the ledge of the scum-lined tub, and while I emptied myself I prepared a modest breakfast. As I sat on the … Continue reading Prince of Putridity

“Who’s the exorcist for the archdiocese?” “Silva.” “Yeah. When’s he coming?” “He can’t.” “Then who’d you ask?” “Sacred Brotherhood of Francis Borgia.” “Borgia? He’ll be lucky to keep his intestines.” Maldonado stood up and went over to the table. It was spread with sweetbread, egg tarts, queijadas, and a jar of coffee milk. “I’m about … Continue reading Palm Sunday