The Paint and the Chill
In the fall of 2004, I moved into a small craftsman bungalow in the outskirts of Bakersfield, California. My friend Elena had inherited it from her grandmother, who had passed...
In the fall of 2004, I moved into a small craftsman bungalow in the outskirts of Bakersfield, California. My friend Elena had inherited it from her grandmother, who had passed...
I’ve never been one for superstition. My name is Elias, and I’ve spent most of my adult life as a machinist, a man who trusts the precise turn of a...
My name is Elias, and I’ve lived in the old Cranston house for three years now. It’s a sprawling Victorian with a sunroom that catches the morning light, but something...
When I was four, my cousin Marcus thought it was funny to shut me in the old chest freezer in the garage. It was one of those heavy, coffin-like things...
Mara had always been the grounded one, the anchor in her relationship with Leo. For two years, they had built a life together in their small, rented duplex on the...
Four winters ago, I moved into a drafty farmhouse at the edge of a town called Hollow Creek with my fiancé, Marcus. I was twenty-six then, now I’m thirty. The...
Marta was seven when her grandfather, Tomas, died. It was sudden, a fever that turned to pneumonia, and he was gone in a day. The family was in shock. Marta’s...
It was a humid August night, the kind that made the air feel thick and sticky, even with all the windows open in our old farmhouse. I was the only...
The summer of 2007 had been a blur of paint fumes and box flaps. We’d poured every dollar into the old Victorian, scraping away decades of grime to reveal the...
I’ve always been particular about order—maybe it’s a sickness. So when the off-campus house fell into chaos after the end-of-semester blowout, I was the one who stayed behind with a...
I was eleven the summer we moved to my grandfather’s farm, a place trapped between the dry bones of the prairie and the endless, chattering wind. We kept a few...
Before I turned sixteen, I thought I understood the rules of my world. I was raised in a devout household, my father a deacon, and my mother a woman who...
Listening to the woods...
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