The Hollow Click
The apartment complex on Sycamore Lane was a gray monolith of concrete and glass, and Minh, a night-shift data analyst, had grown accustomed to its sterile hum. His world shrank...
The apartment complex on Sycamore Lane was a gray monolith of concrete and glass, and Minh, a night-shift data analyst, had grown accustomed to its sterile hum. His world shrank...
My grandmother’s old transistor radio sat on the windowsill of my childhood bedroom, its cracked amber dial glowing softly even when unplugged. I was six the first time I heard...
The first night at the Armitage Recovery Center was quiet, too quiet. The building had been a maternity hospital decades ago, converted into a small clinic for minor ailments. My...
The air in the Emberwood Forest clung to us like a damp shroud. My father, Uncle Boran, my cousin Elara, and I had been hiking for over an hour, our...
Ten years have passed since we returned from the coastal province, but the memory of that summer in the inland hills remains like a film of grime on the skin....
The first time I saw the dead moth, I thought it was just a coincidence. It lay on the windowsill of our flat in the coastal town of Orford, its...
In 2012, when I was eleven, my family moved to a creaky old house on the edge of Maplewood. The house had a musty smell that clung to everything, and...
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon when my family and I decided to visit the newly opened Galaxy Mall in our town. The mall was a sprawling maze of gleaming...
I was eleven, maybe twelve, the summer we moved to my grandmother’s farmhouse in the dry, flatlands of western Kansas. The house was old, with creaking floorboards and windows that...
It was a sweltering August evening in 2012 when I returned home with my parents after a long day of visiting relatives. The old Victorian house on Birchwood Lane had...
The summer of 2008, I was twelve, and we’d just moved to a creaky Victorian on the edge of Blackwood. The house had been empty for years, and the realtor...
Listening to the woods...
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