The Ghosts in the Walls

I recently found a short poem I wrote by hand. This was back in 2012, before I tried writing short stories and longer works – and before I had sufficient practice in the writing craft. I wrote this during a sleepless night as I listened to the walls in my new house creak. The Ghosts in the Walls One more glass. That’s all I need to have before I hear them. It starts with a whisper. Sometimes. Other times it’s louder than that – out of nowhere. It’s frightening. However, it’s terrifying when I listen for them and I hear nothing. That’s when they are listening to me. The ghosts in the walls. They only talk at night. I’ve tried to listen in the day, but I never hear anything. Until I lay in bed and it’s quiet for a while, then I hear the creaking. I try to fall asleep before it starts, but that’s a rarity. The tapping from inside the wall, each tap is either louder or softer than the previous. That’s the worst part. I never know how loud it’s going to be. A wretched, teasing finger, rapping in the wall. I’ve never seen anything when I look for them. Maybe I’m just hearing things. If I am, I’m crazy. But if it’s real, what does that make me? I don’t want to go to sleep. Just one more glass. I hear it now. The tapping. It’s getting louder. Softer. Waves of terror crash upon my[…] [Keep Reading]

The Schlikt

Happy Halloween, fellow lovers of horror. It’s been a strange year indeed. Hopefully there are great stories being written and shared through our many experiences during this time. It’s been two years since The Schlikt was originally published in Kyanite Press’ Halloween Special, and I’m truly thankful for the opportunity to have shared this story through their medium. I’ve shared the original text below. It can still be purchased here at Kyanite Press. For those who prefer audio, I narrated the script and had it professionally produced by a close collaborator. The audio can be found here. As always, happy reading and writing – and keep cranking. THE SCHLIKT It was 1:03am. A hospital stood at the intersection of two well-known streets; its colorful exterior a vibrant display of positivity against the surrounding gray neighborhood and dark night. Inside, Sally Marcone – a pediatric nurse fresh out of a prominent Midwest school – sat at a computer on the 8th floor. Her computer screen the only nearby source of light in the darkness of the night shift. The pediatric oncology floor wasn’t for everyone. Most people aren’t ready to see a room with a child hooked up to tubes and machines with blinking lights, their bodies just a sick as the gray walls around them. Her only patient was six-year-old Tobias Kearny. The Stage Four Lymphoma was deep in his bone marrow. The tests came back earlier. Sally stood from her computer and walked to Toby’s room, taking in the[…] [Keep Reading]