Jason MH

August 4, 2016 "Hey, Greg." I startled such that my phone clattered across the small table and I nearly dropped my four-shot latte. That would've been a crime. Or a tragedy. Probably both. Looking up at the owner of that devilishly delicious voice, I found Keigan staring back in dismay. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Maybe I should've cleared my throat or something." As I fetched my phone from the opposite edge of the small table, I gave him a self-deprecating smile a

I sit on the sunroom's couch with the computer whirring away on my lap. Afternoon sun stipples the woods. Lake Potisesse in its afternoon splendor wears a sunny gown full of life and hemmed by verdant second-growth forest. Hardly aware of the august tableau outside the sunroom's glass walls, remembering Beth and her abrupt end captured me so entirely that my mind stumbles, my thoughts trip, my heart staggers. Unable to function, unable to get my act together, my eyes stare ahead, not at anyt

Thank you all for your comments! I know this chapter was uncomfortable at best, but you clearly understand why it had to exist. (Unfortunately the interludes aren't over, but thankfully they're also not frequent.) Richard/The Fiend is the most distasteful character I've written to date. My first attempt with him came out stilted and distant--I didn't want to be in his head!--which of course made him as dry as a math textbook. But I needed him to be repugnant yet brilliant, hated yet real. It turns out I just needed to develop him a bit more. Making him cold and calculating allowed me to deal with him clinically. As this chapter shows, when Yvonne's thoughts are central, it's conversational and approachable, but when Richard becomes the focus, it's more insensate and pedantic. I hope that helps further define the character and his personality. I know it certainly helps me get through writing about him because I can keep him at arm's length, and that's as close to him as I want to be!

February 5, 2001 The Fiend settled into a chair at the dining table while The Boy's mother poured herself a glass of wine and retrieved a beer for Gavin, her ex-husband. He had smartly declined alcohol when Yvonne offered; he always declined and abstained when in her presence, striving to establish and reinforce the impression of a responsible man around whom her son would be safe. As he sipped from his glass of water, he tuned out the cacophony of laughs and shouts and teenage antics em

July 29, 2016 "I'm just gonna go home and do my homework then hang out after your mom gets here." Kyle sat on the couch drinking water while I stood in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher and starting dinner preparations. He had his back to the armrest with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, one of his bare feet bouncing to a beat only he could hear. "I thought you had a date with Traci tonight?" "I don't feel like going," he muttered irritably. When I looked in

After a long, hot, relaxing shower, I dress in gym shorts, sport socks and sneakers. Feeling duly attired to start my day, I head to the ground floor. Bouncing down the stairs, the steamy ritual of cleaning washing away more than dirt, my mind shines clearer, recollections of the nightmare vanishing, the strange embodiment of Beth's presence disappearing, visions of the scale that kicked me while I was down all but forgotten. "It's going to be a great day," I declare as I reach the entrancew

July 18, 2016 After coming home from the gym, Kyle headed to his house while I went upstairs to change clothes. "I don't know if I can do this," I mumbled as I slipped on a pair of cargo shorts and a wife beater. As I pulled on ankle socks and pushed my feet into a pair of sneakers, I huffed, shook my head, snorted derisively, sighed, and pretty much grew increasingly agitated. I should never have agreed to this gym thing. This isn't good for me. I can't deal with him, what he ma

Part One – Dark Dreamscape I am accustomed to sleep and in my dreams to imagine the same things that lunatics imagine when awake. Rene Descartes Meditations on First Philosophy * * * * * What gulf-ascended hand is this, that grips My spirit as with chains, and from the sound And light of dreamland, draws me to the bound Where darkness waits with wide, expectant lips? Clark Ashton Smith Shadow of Nightmare * * * * * Chapter 1 Seething darkness presses in at al

If the world's mythologies teach a single unflinching truth, it is that mortals and gods never live peacefully together. Most people have forgotten this lesson; the gods, on the other hand, have not. The war against humanity has begun. * * * * * We know what happened to those who chanced to meet the Great God Pan, and those who are wise know that all symbols are symbols of something, not of nothing. It was, indeed, an exquisite symbol beneath which men long ago veiled their knowledge

Dave Crichton fled the city hoping to escape the memories of his dead wife and the life they shared. Now he's building new memories in King's Hope, a small town in East Texas, where he's met a young man who makes him think there might be another chance at happiness. But he'll soon learn that the memories he sought to avoid are filled with secrets that just might save the world. Because in addition to being a successful author, a widower, a loving son, and the most eligible bachelor in a tiny Texas hamlet, Dave is also humanity's only hope for survival in the coming war against the gods. He just doesn't know it yet.

I loved writing Teresa, so I'm thrilled you find her character engrossing. She's the first of three mothers in "Mothers and Intuitions," the fourth part of which is the second interlude. As to the rest of your comment, thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying how this was written. And let me say this: I'm a fan of breadcrumbs; I like stories that credit the reader with intelligence, so I do the same with mine. There are three main characters, each of whom needs something, and without spelling it out they all work their respective ways towards fulfilling those needs. I just like to put the impetus on the reader to figure out the details before they're finally revealed in the narrative. Personally, those are the kinds of stories I love most.

Thank you so much for your feedback! I appreciate it. Greg and Nate were a joy for me to write. Their relationship was so natural given their history. It's refreshing to know they come across as realistic and believable; they certainly were to me as I wrote this tale.

June 26, 2016 Equal parts understanding and fear shot through me as I looked at Basketball Boy's mother standing on the front porch. Suddenly I knew where Kyle learned to shake hands. I also knew the source of his blue eyes and slim face. In addition to the source of some of her son's features, however, I also saw before me a mama bear, petite for sure, but still a mama bear. Though I had no ill intentions toward her son, my own mother had taught me that moms are a universal force to be

June 26, 2016 "It's getting hot outside," Nate announced. "And water's wet, you nitwit. Besides, what are you, the weatherman now?" "No," he said sharply as he smacked the back of my head. "Ow!" "Quit your bitchin and listen. Let's get the cars out of the garage so you can clean like you've been promising." "What will you be doing, pray tell, scoring my performance?" He snickered. "I'll give you a ten if you put the broom back where it belongs when you're done." "

Thank you so much for that simple statement of understanding: Though my story with Derek ended, it was. That's what I hold most dear.

Thank you for your kind remarks, Jeffrey. From what you said, I take it you're not unfamiliar with such loss. Hopefully like me--something I want to communicate through this telling--the good memories and feelings outweigh whatever sadness was left behind.

I didn't like it when this kink worked itself into the tale; it felt too much like a device. But as Greg and Nate developed and their history became clear, this is where they left me. By the end I was happy about it because of the substance it adds to those two characters. (The interludes were added after I was many chapters into the story because I didn't know who The Fiend was until then. I'd intended to keep him this shadowy figure who's dehumanized to the point of never being a real character. But once I realized it was Nate's father--that was a real OMG! moment for me--I just had to add in his separate world in his separate voice because he's so brilliantly vile.)

What a gracious comment, Will. Thank you! Hearing praise such as yours lets me know this a worthwhile effort. Oh, and my AP English teacher from high school would be thrilled because she's the one who repeatedly told me to do something with my writing or else.

Thank you for your thoughtful comment! The relationship between Greg and Kyle is, even this early on, complex and difficult for the characters to decipher. That's probably truer for Greg since it's obvious he has a serious case of arrested development. But there are three main characters in this tale and each of them needs something. It'll be interesting to see if they find it.

Thank you, Parker. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. I hope to intersperse this tale with these pieces, writings I did both antemortem and postmortem. Hopefully they'll augment the story with more realism than the narrative can convey.

September 6, 1999 Sitting in his air-conditioned luxury automobile with classical music playing quietly, The Fiend watched from behind his designer sunglasses as young children poured from the middle school like ants flooding out of a damaged nest. Boys and girls from grades four through six spread across the vast lawn and interwoven sidewalks in their first escape from the new school year. Ranging in age from about nine years old to about twelve, the boisterous crowd of youngsters scamp

He will leave behind a life that is rich and full and rare. We will see it coming—the end—and we will anticipate it even though we cannot be prepared for it. He will not let go, will not give in; he will force the disease to take him, to strike him down, because he is a fighter. And he will not give up. Since 2004 I have acknowledged September 7 as a date on the calendar; more importantly, I have felt it. Some years it slips by with a few soft words shared quietly in my mind; some years it s

I say that life doesn't always give us happily ever after and neither should writers. This story is the reason I believe that. This is a true story, a tale of lust, romance, love, and loss. It's the best story I can tell because it means the most to me.

Thanks so much for your feedback! I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter. I really like these characters, so hopefully I can do justice to them and their stories.

June 22, 2016 "Dude, what the hell?" "Can't you come up with new material?" Nate bumped me with his elbow as he answered, "Since the last time we did the dirty? Oh yeah, I have new material." I gave my best friend a quick scowl as I drove. "Yawn. Nothing new there, I'm afraid. Still the same boring straight moves and the same boring straight equipment. I've seen no indication of any upgrades." "Of course not. I save those for the ladies." With that he waggled his eyebrows and