Two of my horror drabbles—First Kiss and Holding Hands—have been accepted into the Love Me, Love Me Not anthology by Black Hare Press. Each examines a different phase of a couple’s relationship, from the twisted start to the heartbreaking end.

My short (non-horror) story Firefly has been accepted by Flora Fiction for publication in Spring 2023. It’s a simple story about a young girl who captures a firefly in the back yard to help cheer up her ailing sister.

Missy caught the firefly in mid-air, cupping her hands around it to form a tiny, dark cave. She could feel the insect’s delicate footsteps tickling her skin as it wandered across her palm, searching for a way out.

“Got you!” she whispered, victorious.

My coming-of-age horror story Many Deaths Before Dying has been accepted by Underland Arcana. When a giant, silvery puddle appears in the field where they play, four boys encounter an inexplicable horror that will change them forever.

“We need to get help,” I said quietly. But I didn’t move. I felt rooted in place, as if my feet had bonded to the Earth’s crust. I was frozen solid, utterly paralyzed with fear. Shah hadn’t just fallen into the puddle. He had been pulled.

A House, Haunted, my first-ever horror poem, has been accepted into the Home Sweet Horror anthology by Black Ink Fiction.

Pipes spit water stained red with rust
into porcelain cracked like fractured teeth.

In addition, my horror story Something’s Wrong With Mom will be reprinted in Home Sweet Horror 3 later next year.

My historical horror story Breathtaking has been accepted into Monstorm, a charity anthology of weather-related horror by Madness Heart Press. Proceeds from sales of the book will go to people affected by Hurricane Ian.

Set in 1930s Oklahoma during the Dust Bowl, Breathtaking tells the story of a young girl and her brother who see a mysterious woman in white screaming outside their house during a dust storm.

“Banshee,” I whispered, mouthing the words as I read. “A spirit in the form of a wailing woman who appears to members of a family as a sign that …” I trailed off. I felt my stomach tighten. Icicles formed down the center of my spine. “That one of them is about to die.”