My sci-fi drabble We Need To Talk has been accepted by Martian Magazine. It’s a story about what happens when your AI assistant knows you better than you know yourself.

I don’t know how to tell him.

I’m just an AI assistant. I order cigarettes when he runs out. I hail him a cab when he’s drunk. I don’t do… this.

Two more of my horror stories have been accepted for audio adaptation by Chilling Tales For Dark Nights.

• Molehills is a longer version of my weird horror story The Man Who Ate The Road, originally published in Haven Spec. When a woman tries to return home after visiting her abusive father, she discovers that the road is closed … but just for her.
• From Below is an eco-horror story originally published in ParSec Magazine. In the flooded remains of Old Manhattan, the wealthy stay dry and well-fed in their penthouses, while everyone else is left to fend for themselves against the unseen horrors lurking just below the surface.

Two of my short horror stories—Uncle Pumpkin’s Tongue and Many Deaths Before Dying—have been accepted by one of my favorite horror podcasts (which will remain confidential for now).

• Uncle Pumpkin’s Tongue is the story of a Halloween carnival ride with a sinister secret. It was recently published in The Ghastling.
• When a giant, silvery puddle appears in the field where they play, four boys encounter an inexplicable horror that will change them forever. Many Deaths Before Dying will appear next month in Underland Arcana.

My sci-fi horror story One Last Step has been accepted into the Lockdown Horror #5 anthology by Black Hare Press. It’s a story about a little girl stalked by an unseen shadow-thing across a post-apocalyptic landscape.

“Will it hurt?” I watched my father roll the sewing needle between his fingers, its tip glowing orange-red in the heat of the flame. My eyes welled with tears.

“Just a little,” he replied.

The flickering candlelight sent eerie shapes dancing around the cluttered attic where we were hiding for the night. Outside, the screeching calls of the shadow-things rose and fell like whale songs made from rusted metal. They sounded close.

My twisted fairytale Matches has been accepted by The Stygian Lepus. It’s a dark(er) retelling of Hans Christian Anderson’s story, The Little Match Girl.

As a frigid wind gusted down the narrow lane, the girl side-stepped into an alley to avoid the chill. She sat down cross-legged on the cobblestone, drawing her feet into her folded knees to try and restore some feeling to her toes. She was freezing, but she dared not go home. Her father would be there, waiting, expectant. How many matches had she sold? How many pennies had she earned? None? The girl winced involuntarily at the crack of her father’s belt. She knew what was in store for her if she returned empty-handed.

My cyberpunk story A Free Man has been accepted by Metastellar. In a world where you can purchase a synthetic replica of a person from a vending machine, the best person to frame for a crime you committed may be yourself.

The days of identity theft being just a stolen credit card or Social Security number were long gone—criminals could steal a person’s actual identity with something as simple as a 3D holoscan of their likeness. Except for a small microdot array at the base of its neck, a synthetic was indistinguishable from an actual human.

My cosmic horror story Undone has been accepted by Chthonic Matter, the new publication by the editor and publisher of Nightscript. It’s the story of a man whose world is literally falling apart around him.

Adelaide is gone now. I’m not sure how I know that—I’m not even sure what it means. What is “gone?” Not here right now? Not coming back?

Dead?

My short horror story Things Are Looking Up has been accepted by Chilling Tales For Dark Nights. After a man and his wife are in a fatal car accident, the man decides he will do anything to see his wife one more time. Even if he has to dig.

She’s so close, I can practically touch her. The only thing between us is a few feet of freshly-turned earth.

All I have to do is dig.