1. Frankenstein, noun: a soulless, monstrous creation. 2. A house has lungs. They start out white as porcelain—but stain easy. They yellow with age and nicotine, become thick with dead air. I’ve seen a house become sick. Walls thinning, bones creaking, body decaying. No soul between the floorboards and the insults. You can leave, but dead air clings. It takes more than a spin cycle to wash it away.
5 "Red Flags" That Are Actually Signs of a Healthy Relationship
There's no shortage of relationship advice. Romance and dating are still some of the basic human experiences we are all mystified by. Everyone is looking for the answers. Everyone has an opinion.
I Don't Know How You Do It
I said to my husband: I’m going to tell you how I got disinvited from my brunch group. We get together every Sunday and that has been the tradition for nearly four years. At this point, though, I really can’t remember how it started or how I even met all these women.
The Cattle Gas Strike of 2034
Angus the Bull entered the fifth week of his gas strike feeling hopeful if a little uncomfortable. The discomfort was worth it. There was a great purpose rolling over their pasture and it had taken the place of their plaguing, polluting farts.
It was early June and scientists predicted a close call with an asteroid. Just a few million miles to the right, and the space junk could cause the next mass extinction event.
On writing horror
Grief, guilt, paranoia, and shame fuel the terrors of SHADES OF RED: a collection of stories that range from the eerie to the horrific, the private to the global, the mundane to the apocalyptic. Here, horror comes in all shapes, sizes, colors, and shades.
Did an actress' deathbed confession solve a 40-year-old cold case?
THE CRIME SCENE ---February 2, 1922. 7:30 am. The two-story bungalow at the Alvarado Court Apartments in the Westlake neighborhood of Los Angeles did not seem solemn enough to be a murder scene that morning. Police responded to the apartments to find Hollywood studio people traipsing through the place, rummaging through the resident's belongings like well-dressed, unabashed burglars.
She Plays the Long Game
I used to think my sister had no imagination. I resented her for this mostly because it made the passive-aggressive war we’ve waged since childhood less fun than it could be.