Eleven pounds of clay is not a great deal of weight. Vera Kessling had lifted heavier bags of groceries in her seventies, before her hip stopped cooperating. But tonight, at eighty-three years old, hunched on the stool she'd used since 1974, she found the clay on her wheel dragged against her hands like it was … Continue reading The Last Casting
Psychological Horror
The Believer
The first time I heard the name Mr. Pockets, I was folding laundry and only half listening. "He doesn't like it when you fold his shirt like that," my daughter said. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her room, arranging a tea party for exactly one visible guest. "He likes it folded in … Continue reading The Believer
What the Dark Remembers
The dig site smelled like old rain and copper. Christina Reyes had been told to expect that — the mineral tang of deep earth, the particular damp of soil that hadn't seen sunlight in centuries. What Professor Aldrich's textbooks had not prepared her for was the silence. Not the comfortable silence of a library or … Continue reading What the Dark Remembers
The House on Vellum Street
The Carvers arrived on a Tuesday, which Claire would later think was significant. Not a weekend move, full of optimism and pizza boxes and friends making jokes about your furniture. A Tuesday — gray and still, the kind of day that doesn't commit to anything. The house at 14 Vellum Street was beautiful, in the … Continue reading The House on Vellum Street
