The Sinking House by Tristan Mason Colt was only thirteen years old when he rowed as fast as he could away from Benji and Caleb, the most menacing boys in Troop 0172.  It was the dead of night and only the faint orange moonlight lit the narrow path for Colt’s tiny canoe, which was starting to overflow. Benji and Caleb, whose kayak was much bigger and rowing skills were far superior, were gaining on him, shouting from less than fifty away. “Give up, faggot!” Benji hollered, his ugly words bouncing off the tide. “Just give up!” Caleb followed, his voice slightly straining. When Colt was sure he reached the center of Gardner Lake, he stopped rowing and let go of…

When I was a kid I used to play down by the creek that was behind my house. I’d throw rocks, play with plastic army men, make little houses out of mud and sticks having them sink into the creek. On a particular hot day in July when I was about nine I was sitting by the edge of the creek. I had my feet in the water trying to cool down as the day was unbearably humid. I had my eyes closed and didn’t hear her walk up. “Hello” I heard an older voice say. I open my eyes and see a thin middle aged woman wearing a thin white dress, walking barefoot carrying a box under an arm.…

As a kid growing up in my neighborhood everyone knew about Farmer Fred’s, partly because it was an abandoned farm in the middle of the Pittsburgh suburbs, but largely due to the fact that it was haunted. A farm in my neighborhood was probably commonplace at the turn of the 19th century, but by the time I was a kid we were surrounded by strip malls, fast food restaurants and housing developments. That being said, there was and is still a good deal of green space, and at least one farm, albeit no longer operational. According to local legend, Farmer Fred had come from a long line of dairymen who had called our little patch of western Pennsylvania home. He…

I can honestly say this has been the hottest summer I have ever experienced. Not just in Pittsburgh, where I live, but throughout the entire country. Sweltering heat to the point where even the most avid outdoor enthusiasts such as myself have either had to shelter inside the comfort of an air conditioned home or find times to get outside when one wouldn’t expect to literally melt. A couple of nights ago, against my better judgment I decided to go for an evening run in the heat. I consider myself a pretty experienced runner, and thought that I could handle a couple miles even in the sweltering heat. I was particularly excited to get out because apart from reading 88…

I have to write about this here because if I tell anyone in my life they will not believe me. I need to purge myself of these memories, I must share them with you. It began as I lay still and heavy in my old bed. It was not soft but I was drifting away to a place where I could dream. Then, the quite common unsettling occurrence happens where from my bed upon an ungodly hour, I could hear a loud screeching inhuman scream. A woman’s scream if it were to be replicated by a waterlogged and damaged robot voice box. A screeching as though a hoard of crows were to imitate a human upon their death. I feel…

When I was a kid I used to play down by the creek that was behind my house. I’d throw rocks, play with plastic army men, make little houses out of mud and sticks having them sink into the creek. On a particular hot day in July when I was about nine I was sitting by the edge of the creek. I had my feet in the water trying to cool down as the day was unbearably humid. I had my eyes closed and didn’t hear her walk up. “Hello” I heard an older voice say. I open my eyes and see a thin middle aged woman wearing a thin white dress, walking barefoot carrying a box under an arm.…

I have to write about this here because if I tell anyone in my life they will not believe me. I need to purge myself of these memories, I must share them with you. It began as I lay still and heavy in my old bed. It was not soft but I was drifting away to a place where I could dream. Then, the quite common unsettling occurrence happens where from my bed upon an ungodly hour, I could hear a loud screeching inhuman scream. A woman’s scream if it were to be replicated by a waterlogged and damaged robot voice box. A screeching as though a hoard of crows were to imitate a human upon their death. I feel…

I can honestly say this has been the hottest summer I have ever experienced. Not just in Pittsburgh, where I live, but throughout the entire country. Sweltering heat to the point where even the most avid outdoor enthusiasts such as myself have either had to shelter inside the comfort of an air conditioned home or find times to get outside when one wouldn’t expect to literally melt. A couple of nights ago, against my better judgment I decided to go for an evening run in the heat. I consider myself a pretty experienced runner, and thought that I could handle a couple miles even in the sweltering heat. I was particularly excited to get out because apart from reading 88…

As a kid growing up in my neighborhood everyone knew about Farmer Fred’s, partly because it was an abandoned farm in the middle of the Pittsburgh suburbs, but largely due to the fact that it was haunted. A farm in my neighborhood was probably commonplace at the turn of the 19th century, but by the time I was a kid we were surrounded by strip malls, fast food restaurants and housing developments. That being said, there was and is still a good deal of green space, and at least one farm, albeit no longer operational. According to local legend, Farmer Fred had come from a long line of dairymen who had called our little patch of western Pennsylvania home. He…

The Sinking House by Tristan Mason Colt was only thirteen years old when he rowed as fast as he could away from Benji and Caleb, the most menacing boys in Troop 0172.  It was the dead of night and only the faint orange moonlight lit the narrow path for Colt’s tiny canoe, which was starting to overflow. Benji and Caleb, whose kayak was much bigger and rowing skills were far superior, were gaining on him, shouting from less than fifty away. “Give up, faggot!” Benji hollered, his ugly words bouncing off the tide. “Just give up!” Caleb followed, his voice slightly straining. When Colt was sure he reached the center of Gardner Lake, he stopped rowing and let go of…

I can honestly say this has been the hottest summer I have ever experienced. Not just in Pittsburgh, where I live, but throughout the entire country. Sweltering heat to the point where even the most avid outdoor enthusiasts such as myself have either had to shelter inside the comfort of an air conditioned home or find times to get outside when one wouldn’t expect to literally melt. A couple of nights ago, against my better judgment I decided to go for an evening run in the heat. I consider myself a pretty experienced runner, and thought that I could handle a couple miles even in the sweltering heat. I was particularly excited to get out because apart from reading 88…

I have to write about this here because if I tell anyone in my life they will not believe me. I need to purge myself of these memories, I must share them with you. It began as I lay still and heavy in my old bed. It was not soft but I was drifting away to a place where I could dream. Then, the quite common unsettling occurrence happens where from my bed upon an ungodly hour, I could hear a loud screeching inhuman scream. A woman’s scream if it were to be replicated by a waterlogged and damaged robot voice box. A screeching as though a hoard of crows were to imitate a human upon their death. I feel…

When I was a kid I used to play down by the creek that was behind my house. I’d throw rocks, play with plastic army men, make little houses out of mud and sticks having them sink into the creek. On a particular hot day in July when I was about nine I was sitting by the edge of the creek. I had my feet in the water trying to cool down as the day was unbearably humid. I had my eyes closed and didn’t hear her walk up. “Hello” I heard an older voice say. I open my eyes and see a thin middle aged woman wearing a thin white dress, walking barefoot carrying a box under an arm.…

As a kid growing up in my neighborhood everyone knew about Farmer Fred’s, partly because it was an abandoned farm in the middle of the Pittsburgh suburbs, but largely due to the fact that it was haunted. A farm in my neighborhood was probably commonplace at the turn of the 19th century, but by the time I was a kid we were surrounded by strip malls, fast food restaurants and housing developments. That being said, there was and is still a good deal of green space, and at least one farm, albeit no longer operational. According to local legend, Farmer Fred had come from a long line of dairymen who had called our little patch of western Pennsylvania home. He…

The Sinking House by Tristan Mason Colt was only thirteen years old when he rowed as fast as he could away from Benji and Caleb, the most menacing boys in Troop 0172.  It was the dead of night and only the faint orange moonlight lit the narrow path for Colt’s tiny canoe, which was starting to overflow. Benji and Caleb, whose kayak was much bigger and rowing skills were far superior, were gaining on him, shouting from less than fifty away. “Give up, faggot!” Benji hollered, his ugly words bouncing off the tide. “Just give up!” Caleb followed, his voice slightly straining. When Colt was sure he reached the center of Gardner Lake, he stopped rowing and let go of…