Beyond The Stump

The dark harrowing tale of a young woman who must assume her mother's role of Gatekeeper. A crippled woman’s life changes over decades of inhabiting and guarding tainted soil . . .

Cereal Box Surprise

A ninety-eight-pound weakling orders cereal hyped by a once-famous athlete. During the mayhem that ensues, he discovers heroes aren't always what they seem. And the prize at the bottom . . .

Monstrosities

A weird boy becomes very twisted while growing up and conducts Frankensteinish experiments on those around him. Chills, suspense, obsession and dark humor await in this novelette by Lori R. Lopez.

Poetic Reflections: the rise of the fall

Some of my column intros actually make sense. And then there are those that go skipping off in their own misdirections through fields of shruggeries and flowered flumpheries, amid the bognacious trills . . .

Poetic Reflections: Holey cow!

What if, instead of holy, cows were holey? If the black spots on the average dairy breed were empty spaces rather than splotches? Where might the rest of the cow be?

Poetic Reflections: horror haiku too

Creating Horror Haiku was so much fun, I decided to take a second sojourn into the art of the concise. For the sake of brevity, I shall keep my intro short . . .

Poetic Reflections: horror haiku

There is an art to brevity. For once I shall strive to be brief, though my poems are generally anything but that. As are these perflaffly, pregumptuous, extracapitulated, conundrum-hummous intros.

Poetic Reflections: night howls

We’ve all heard them. Banshee yodels in the dark. Sometimes rattling the windows. Other times a distant shriek. Maybe an unheard scream building up inside: a peal of effusive all-out joy . . .

Some Thing

A tongue-in-cheek tale about a man who drank the water, another man and his Bazooka, and a lady with a loaded gun. Brought together in a showdown between paranoia and reality . . .

Macabre

A young woman's dream for independence is challenged when her parents depart and she must anxiously face both days and nights of solitude. Yet she is never completely alone . . .

Poetic Reflections: stark raving mad

Is there a level at which one can be considered “stark raving mad”? Some mark on a graph or meter that measures the drop-off point of sanity? Or does it vary . . .

Poetic Reflections: horror she wrote

“It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light . . .

Poetic Reflections: envious

In a movie I just watched, one woman cut off the face of a younger woman who was like a daughter to her, then wore it like a mask to fool the guy both women wanted.