I didn’t want to put the book down.
I didn’t expect that. But, that’s what happened. Z Publishing House editors selected 15 authors from the East Region and delivered, what I consider to be, a great read for the summer of 2019.
This book contains thrilling short stories ranging from haunted houses, spiritual haunting, Military spook, blood and brains, a dose of arachnophobia, and let’s not leave out the random split personality piece for a bit of spice.
I’m honored to have my short story, Only. Just. Here. within the pages of this book. If you are looking for a good summer read, this is it. Feel free to email me if you are interested in more information.
Link to purchase the book:
America's Emerging Horror Writers: East Region
My email, firstname.lastname@example.org
More of my published work:
For those of you that have already purchased the book, Thank You!
My cousin has been in my thoughts lately. For things I’m unable to discuss, or write about, for the time being. Twice last week friends from home called me. Twice they pulled over and let my cousin use their phones to call me. They’d found him walking down random roads.
If all anyone hears is the negative said about them, we as humans, often fall into what those negatives are. Rather than focusing on what’s great about them. I prefer to focus on what’s great about someone. In this story I wrote about the good, the bad, the raw. The truth. This story is not PC. I do not write PC.
Grab a whisky, or wine, or a bottle of cold beer. Or room temperature porter, if you so enjoy a room temperature porter. I know I do. Open said drink(s) and take a little read.
I took the picture for this. I stood on the top of Mount Sugarloaf in Sunderkand, MA. Thanks for reading. I’m finally becoming more comfortable with commenting back and forth with a few of you. Thank you for that. It’s certainly not because of me.
The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost, 1874 – 1963
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the ones less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
While driving back roads in New England I often think of the second to last line, ‘I took the one less traveled by,’ and smile as I turn down a dirt road I do not know. And now, with Gavin and Megan, we are getting to know the back roads of Maine. We’ve just begun and my heart sings to learn where every one of them go.