Author of mystery | suspense | horror
Rain sputtered like grease on asphalt still hot from the July Texas day. The black ribbon with the double-yellow line wound out, a miasma of blinks and blurs from the downpour. It was five till midnight. He drove, the wipers
That thump again, in the hall. Like something thudding against the other side of her door. “Elsie?” I call. No answer, of course. Just another drum beat against the wood, like marking time for a dirge I can’t hear. “Elsie-Bellsie?”
It’s fuckin cold out here. I can feel every hair on my arms prickin up like a goddam dog’s ears when he hears the kibble bag. That buzzin fuckin streetlight over there is pissin me off. Stupid orange glow from
After my heart attack last year—the doc called it ventricular fibrillation, a fancy name for a reliable old muscle moving to the bad side of the tracks—Barbara wanted the two of us to get in better shape. I saw it
He cut the ribbons with the precision of a surgeon. They had to be perfect. They must be perfect. If even one ribbon was out of place, she would be unhappy with him. He cut the wide strip its length,
I’ve got corners in my throat. I don’t know how else to describe it. Like an empty room, the empty room in an old house, the people long gone, dust-balls swirling around in the drafts coming in around windows shrunken
I’ma take off my jeans. No, now, don’t go a-fussin’—it’s for your own good. You see, these here jeans, I don’t know where they been. They come a-strollin’ in four-oh-six in the ay em this mornin’, all smug as you
In the Time It Takes to Blink: (A Novel of Suspense and Horror)
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