The Post With No Name

I always want to hang on to my work until it's exactly perfect, just Emily Dickinson it away in a drawer somewhere, but I also want it to be seen. This means I have to edit it and release it into the wind. I've done that pretty well in the last month with my poetry, but when it comes to my short stories, I can barely stand to read them over once.

I just write what I like to read. I'm very selective about poetry, and carefully examine the structure, the flow, and the images that just stick in your mind and never leave before I decide I enjoy something. When it comes to prose fiction, I just really love little silly horror stories. Brief little flashes of spoopy trash are where it's at. I'm just accepting that now, and throwing my trash into the wind.

This little whiff of a story was submitted to bogleech.com's annual Creepypasta Cookoff in 2014. This year, I've submitted like 6 things. 

The previous archives are a lot of fun if you like small terrifying confections of tales. Good little munches.