Reaching From The Light

Photo credit: Debra Hill Productions

It’s been a bit since I’ve posted, but I figured it was time to reach out with some updates.

I had two flash fiction stories published in Mid-March. The first is entitled ‘She Watches Us Sleep’ and is published over at Timber Ghost Press’ website. They have been putting out some great stories lately, and I’m happy to join the team.

The other story is a reprint, revived after Curious Fictions went under. It’s my sci-fi horror piece ‘Manifesto: Abnormality at Z33.1’. I’m quite proud of this story. I put it out on Simily, which is an up and coming service that publishes short articles/fiction and funnels payment back to the writers.

I hope everyone is doing well. More updates soon.

Interview in the A.M.

Photo credit: United Artists

Happy Thanksgiving, gang! This is my second holiday post, but it just kind of happened that way.

By now you’ve likely finished your football eating and food watching, so now you can move on to less made-up Thanksgiving activities. Let’s talk cake.

To celebrate National Cake Day (and Thanksgiving I guess), I’ve put out a free story over at Curious Fictions. It’s called ‘A Slice for Delilah’, and I think it’s quite a bit of fun. This also serves as a birthday story, so there is that.

I was also interviewed over at Horror Talk Radio earlier this month. We talked horror movies and publishing tips. It’s my first interview about my work, so it was pretty exciting. Check it out if you’re interested!

As a reminder; stay safe out there. Wear your mask and keep your distance.

The Glowing Dark

It’s Halloween Week! I’ve written a story to celebrate this glorious holiday, and I wanted to share it with you great people!

This story fulfills two of my writing goals for 2019: put up a free story for Halloween and write a story featuring a certain kind of beastie… I’d like you to meet the Harwood Twins and witness their cold quest. I hope you enjoy this story. I know I enjoyed writing it.

The Glowing Dark


The Harwood twins chartered a ship from the village. It had taken a considerable effort and a lot of money, but they’d made it happen. The only person willing to take them to the north shore of Ballaghbrack Island was a drunk captain that piloted a rusted lobster boat.

Cassandra leaned on the rusted railing of the boat and fished out a cigarette. The ocean churned and thrashed before her, the overcast sky turning the sea dark. The ship moved with it, dipping low and heaving with every crashing wave. The rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, but rain only threatened. The remnants of the day’s sunshine were being smothered by the storm.

Cassandra snapped her fingers at the end of her cigarette and a green spark appeared. She lit it and then shook her hand to extinguish the tiny flame. Her brother Cash, seated on a derelict bench behind her, was looking over their supplies one last time.

The brother and sister team did not travel light. It was a reality of their profession. They were monster hunters, called upon to dispatch any denizens of the night that over-stepped the natural order. Cassandra and Cash both carried a set of pistols on every job. While bullets were useless against some creatures of the night, they worked beautifully for others. They also carried a myriad of other weaponry, each customized to deal with different situations. Shrapnel bombs filled with broken cross wood. Knives and stakes. Some modified heavy artillery (always Cash’s favorite). Their father, Lord Harwood, had taught them that the right weapons could always save the day. And in the five years that they’d been hunting together, that knowledge had served them well.

Cassandra puffed on her cigarette and looked back out toward the ocean. The island would be making its appearance soon enough. Like most of the islands on this part of the Irish coast, Ballaghbrack Island was just a rocky slab, devoid of vegetation and inhabitants. Though it was unattractive, fishermen did find reasons to visit its shores. But then fishermen started going missing. One such fisherman ran into the village screaming about ‘swollen monsters’. That lead to the village elder looking for help. That’s how he found the Harwood family.

Because the fisherman’s description had been vague, Cassandra made Cash bring all of his deadly toys. Cash handled the weaponry and loved doing it. Cassandra had her own methods of destruction. She—like many of the people in their family—had special abilities. Cassandra could conjure flames from her hands. While prolonged use of her ability was dangerous to her health, it gave her an edge in certain kinds of encounters. Cash had no such ability, but he was as well-trained as Cassandra in all manners of combat. They’d been raised to be true warriors.

The rain came. The wind whipped it hard enough to sting. Cash cursed and closed their bags, his eyes squinted to protect them from the deluge. Cassandra grunted and tossed her cigarette over the side. Through the wall of rain before them, she could just make out the hard shore of Ballaghbrack Island.

Cash joined his sister at the railing, holding out her bag. Cassandra took it and slung it over her shoulder.

“What do you think we’ll find here? What kind of creatures are we up against?”

“I’m not sure, Cash,” Cassandra said, shrugging.

“The elder said the island was once used for worship. He said we should head to the altar on the southern side.”

At the word ‘altar’, Cassandra looked at her brother. “Maybe it’s some kind of evil deity? Something we need to put down?”

Cash grinned. “We’ll find out soon enough, sister.”

The island came closer, and before too long they were right on top of the beach. The captain blew the ship’s horn and the siblings readied to disembark.

“It appears that the Captain has no wish to speak to us again before we head off to face the monsters of Ballaghbrack Island.” Cash said, hazarding a look back toward the ship’s cabin.

Cassandra scoffed. “He’s probably hoping we don’t come back.”

The boat bumped into the shore and the siblings hopped overboard. Their boots crunched rock. Cash gave the boat a shove and it went back out into the choppy water. Cassandra waited, her eyes on the darkening sky. The arrangement was that the captain was to set up anchor and wait for the siblings to complete their hunt. Neither twin had much faith in this captain.

The two of them set off across the island. The soil was hard, and what little grass persisted was brittle and long dead. Weak looking trees had somehow clawed their way through the harsh ground. Because they were both fit and accustomed to long walks, the two of them made good time.

After a while, the rain tapered down into a thick mist. As the two siblings walked, they kept their eyes peeled. The further inland they went, they began to notice more vegetation was finding its way through the stones. As they reached a particularly steep hill, Cash paused and knelt down. The ground was overgrown with patches of spongy growth.

“These rocks are covered in mold.”

“And?” Cassandra grunted.

“It’s late autumn in Ireland. There’s no humidity. Just rain and cold. Mold shouldn’t be growing here on the rocks.”

Cassandra looked to the slope. The mold patches grew more frequent as they went up, each thicker than the last. “That seems odd. But we’re hardly fungi experts. Maybe some kind of local strain?”

Cash stood up. “I suppose so. Let’s keep moving before the rain comes back,” He motioned toward the hill, “I feel like we’re close.”

The siblings crested the hill together, rocks tumbling away as their boots found purchase. At the top, they both stopped.

Cash chuckled. “I hate it when I’m right.”

The hill sloped down dramatically on the other side, leading straight into what they had come for. A circle of stone monoliths, each standing over ten feet tall. In the very center of the stones appeared to be a crude altar. All around it, on nearly every surface, was the same mold that the siblings had found before. It grew thick and violent, with troops of misshapen mushrooms popping up intermittently.

Cash squinted. “How is this possible? It’s everywhere!”

Cassandra drew one of her pistols. “It must be the monoliths. Something is exerting an influence here. And my guess is the influence will do anything to protect itself.”

“As much as I would like to avoid it, I think we should continue down to the altar.” Cash said, eyeing the ground. Even though they were both protected from disease by magical wards, the idea of taking the chance didn’t appeal. Cassandra nodded and began to walk down.

As the siblings neared the first monolith, they looked up at it. Though covered in mold, they could both make out some features. A beak-like countenance. Grand wings. Huddled figures, arms raised in veneration.

As they stepped into the stone circle, the ground trembled beneath their feet. Then, the mold began to glow green. It started light, and then grew glaring.

All around them, the ground began to break. As the rotten ground peeled up, figures pulled themselves from the dirt. They were vaguely humanoid, but all humanlike features had been consumed by the mold. Layers of heavy mushroom growth hung from their bodies, weighing them down. Their arms were swollen mounds of glowing green flesh, flowered and horrible. The Fungi Monsters numbered in the dozens. And they were advancing.

Cash drew both of his pistols. He spun and opened fire, the gunshots echoing out. Cassandra dodged a clumsy grab from the nearest monster and emptied her guns into it. The bullets tore into the meaty fungus, throwing chunks to the radiant ground. But the bullets did nothing to slow them down. All the while, more monsters were being born from the moldy ground, dragging their enormous bodies toward the siblings as they fought.

Both of Cash’s guns clicked empty and he threw them aside. “Forget about guns, Cassandra! They’re useless!”

Cassandra threw her own guns back into her holsters. “Use the incendiary bombs! Let’s see how these things like fire!”

Cassandra held out her hands. Emerald sparks flew from her fingertips and two balls of flame came to riotous life. With a growl, Cassandra thrust her arms forward. The twin fireballs struck the nearest Fungi Monster with a ripe whoosh. The creature let out an unearthly howl, its flesh sloughing off in burning chunks.

Cash cheered and lit a bomb. He spun and rolled one under the feet of the nearest monstrosity. Boom. The fungi creature was thrown into the air, blown nearly in half. The twins continued to fight. Cassandra threw fire. Cash threw bombs. Fire roared and devoured. The mold on the ground caught fire and spread, racing outward. The air stank of burning mold and flesh.


The fungal army was beginning to slow. Cassandra and Cash stepped closer to each other, their faces drenched in sweat. They’d found a bare patch of ground, free from mold and from flame.

“What’s the end game here, Cassandra? Burn the whole island down!?”

“These creatures are born of the mold! We burn the mold, no more problem!”

Lightning split the sky and a great grinding noise broke through the air. Cassandra and Cash spun, their faces alight from the flames around them.

The altar had broken in half, leaving a jagged whole in the center. Steam rolled from the shattered stone, glowing and billowing into the night mist. An enormous arm shot out of the fissure, a massive claw at the end of a long, ebony arm. The claw stabbed into the ground before the altar and began to pull.

The creature that emerged bore a resemblance to the visage on the monoliths. It was thin and bent, as large as an elephant. Its beak-like face opened and closed, revealing gnarled teeth and a glowing gullet. A set of crusty wings attempted to unfurl, but were impeded by the growth that had overtaken its ebony body. Monstrous clusters of fungal growth had encased its limbs and torso, grey and mottled with age. Two green eyes blinked and spin, its focus set on the siblings.

“I think we found the source of the mold.” Cash said.

“We need firepower. All of the firepower.” Cassandra whispered.

“Coming right up!”

As Cash turned away, the Fungal Bird suddenly raced forward. It opened its jagged beak and let out a fearsome screech.

Cassandra let out a scream of her own and threw up her arms. She let loose two streams of bright green fire, both of which struck the Fungal Bird square in its chest. The force of it staggered the beast for a moment. The flame glanced off its foul skin and ignited the masses of scattered fungi that hung from its body. But it wasn’t enough. The Fungal Bird’s head turned. It took one shaky step forward. Then another. Cassandra’s arms shook and her flame stream faltered. Soon, it would be upon them.

“I’ve been looking forward to using this.”

Cash stepped up and shouldered a grenade launcher.

“Bye bye birdie.” Cash said, grinning. He pulled the trigger.

The grenade launcher kicked up and the grenade struck the Fungal Bird in its wide chest. Cassandra dropped her arms, her power spent. For an agonizing moment, the fired grenade spun on the ground beneath the massive creature. The twins hit the dirt.

The grenade exploded.

The shrapnel tore up and through the Fungal Bird’s torso and legs. The creature screamed and pitched over, its broken body slamming into the smoldering ground. The Fungal Bird screeched weakly, blood running from its obliterated body. As the siblings watched, the creature slowly died.

Cash, grinning like a fool, looked around. What Fungal Monsters they hadn’t destroyed had crumbled into piles of flowered flesh. The battle was done.

Cassandra collapsed, her eyes fluttering.

Cash knelt beside her. “We’ve done it! I certainly wasn’t expecting a bird demon to come out of the altar, but I guess these kind of things happen.”

“I’m glad you brought that gun,” Cassandra said weakly, “I thought we were dead. Heavens. I’ve never thrown that much fire before. Ever.”

Cash considered that. “Father would be proud. He always knew you had potential.” Cash looked at all the smoldering corpses around them. “Let’s get out of here.”

Cassandra nodded. “Help me up.”

Together, Cassandra and Cash began the long walk back the way they had come. As the last of the Ballaghbrack Island fungi burned, the storm clouds broke. The moon shined through, bathing the island in natural light.












Curious Fictions: Two Free Stories

curious fictions

Note: No original article this week. I’m off visiting with family. But have no fear! I have two free stories for everyone!

Curious Fictions is the new hotness for authors like myself. It’s a website that allows us to post free stories and cultivate a followership. The website is clean and very easy to navigate. I’ve joined Curious Fictions to encourage me to write and get stories out into the world. I plan on using the platform to give attention to stories that I love, but may not be right for most markets.

I’ve put up two stories, both of which can be found here.

My first story, ‘The Eldritch Film Club’, is a weird little story written in the 2nd person. I love this thing to death though, so please take a look.

The second is called ‘Manifesto: Abnormality at Z33.1’. This story came about after I spent a couple of days outlining a novella idea. I saw the skeleton of a fun little story and this is what came of it. If this novella ever sees the light of day, this will serve as a perfect little prequel.

Halloween Freaks – A Halloween Short Story


Halloween Freaks

A Halloween Short Story

The houses on Packard Street no longer celebrate Halloween. When the 31st of October rolls around, we engage our deadbolts and close our blinds. The porch lights remain dark and we wait for the Halloween Freaks to arrive.

They first came the year after Jenny passed on. Jenny loved Halloween more than any other holiday. In the 53 years we’d been married, it was this autumn night that she looked forward to the most. She loved to see the kids in their costumes, their eyes bright. She’d welcome them with handfuls of candy, grinning in the way that made her so beautiful. I never cared much for the whole thing. I keep a smile and went along with it though. I would have followed Jenny to hell and back.

That Halloween that they arrived, I poured myself a drink and sat at my window. The street was teeming with excited children and parents doing their best to keep them near. I figured I could watch the festivities and think back on Halloweens past. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t done that. I could have flown to another place, spending the holiday on a beach somewhere. Then I maybe could have stayed there. Let the house rot. There is nothing left for me there anyway.

The kids couldn’t see them. Neither could their parents. But my neighbors could. I could. There is something about the people that live on Packard that makes us cursed. We see them on our porches. We see them in our gardens. Lurking near windows, poised just out of sight…

How would I describe them? Long. Withered. Skulls that glowed, amorphous eyes tethered wetly in cavernous sockets. They don’t have feet. Just legs that dangle and sway as they float above the ground. They don’t speak. They don’t call out to us. They float and they shine and they only come along when the sun sets on Halloween night.

When I saw them for that first time, I thought it was some kind of complex costume. I remember leaning forward, nearly pressing my brow to the blinds to get a better look. That’s when I saw them open their glowing lips and letting that foul orange light out that I realized exactly what I was seeing. Some kind of supernatural event, creatures birthed from some kind of darkness. The creatures’ heads twists and that light spin over everything, giving the shadows unholy life.

Someone called the police after. They came, lights flashing. I watched Mrs. Myers talking to them, her eyes bulging and her face flushed with fears. The officers left, shaking their heads. Of course they wouldn’t believe. Why would they?

No one talked about them after. We went about our lives. Pretended that we didn’t see what I called the Halloween Freaks. But I think that everyone dreaded the return of autumn.

They came again that next year. I drank nearly an entire bottle of whiskey as I waited. That year they floated from one end of the street to the other. There was less kids that Halloween. Even though no one else could see the Freaks, I think they could feel them. Perhaps it was the pull of their unholy light. I know I felt it. The nightmares I had that night were dark and foul. Jenny was in them all, her lips glowing. And, when she opened her mouth, the world twisted and squirmed, colors running together like blood down a shower drain.

Why do they come? What do they want? Are they spirits, tethered to this earth? Demons escaped from the deepest bowls of hell? I don’t know. I’m not sure if anyone does. They float from one end of the street to the other, lingering to gaze into windows, their inner light shining over everything.

The children have stopped coming. The street is nothing but dead leaves now. I’m 80 years old. I started coughing earlier this year, and bits of blood have started to appear on my handkerchief when the fits get particularly bad. It’s Halloween Day, about an hour before dark. They’ll be coming any minute now.

When they do, I’ll be waiting. I’ll put on my coat, pick up my cane, and I’ll walk right down my warped front porch stairs. I intend to greet these Freaks, perhaps touch their withered flesh.

Maybe they have some secrets to share. Anything is possible. After all, it is Halloween.


Happy Halloween! I hope it’s suitably spooky.

– Logan Noble

Night Shift at the Blue Acres Care Facility

Jake’s phone died with a feeble buzz. Jake tore his ear buds out from his ears and stuffed both his phone and the headphones into the front pocket of his scrubs. Just his luck. Stuck on the night shift with no music.

He looked out over the quiet of the care facility. The silence of the place was starting to get to him. He wished he’d kept his job at McDonald’s. Sure, the pay was better here. But the hours certainly weren’t.

He’d been stuck with the graveyard shift at Blue Acre Care Facility. It was his job to serve as security between the hours of 11 PM and 7 AM the next morning. He was a knight in scrub armor for a building of old people who couldn’t care less about him being there. The only other employees in the building were some catty nurses at the front desk, another security guard in the East Wing, and his buddy Darrell working laundry downstairs.

Five days ago, Jake had been on the Laundry Crew as well. Then it started happening. Old people began dying. Not the normal way they do in facilities like this. This was the fishy sort of death, sometimes multiple in one night. The night shift nurses’ (during their rounds) would find them, mouths open wide and their dry eyeballs bulging. Maybe. Jake suspected that was an exaggeration.

You know what wasn’t an exaggeration? The corpses in the basement. The biggest snowstorm in southwest Michigan had struck earlier in the week. The heavy ice and snow had pulled down power lines and trapped people in their homes. Most of Allegan had lost power, including the morgue up the road. They couldn’t get the bodies. No power to keep them cool. So they were being kept in the service hallway in the basement. Covered in sheets with the doors locked up, a portable cooling system running overtime to keep the bodies cold. Darrell said that the hum of the thing was driving him crazy down in the laundry room.

The owners of Blue Acres had lost it. They couldn’t figure out why their patients were dying. Was it disease? Something more sinister? Jake had been pulled from laundry and stuck at a security desk until an investigation could be completed. His job was to watch the hallway. That’s it. The nurses did everything else.

Everything had been quiet though. Not that Jake minded that. What could he possibly do if someone came strolling down that hallway anyway? Some tall fella, reaching for a door handle, smiling at Jake as he–

It’s so cold

Jake startled and nearly fell from his chair. Someone had just spoke! It had been clear enough that he felt like it was coming from directly behind him. Jake jerked his head around. No one in the hallway except for him. Nothing. You need sleep. You need to get on the day shift. He settled back in, alert for a few minutes. After a while, the complete and utter silence wore on him.

Jake felt his eyes growing heavy. He let them close, just for a second. Behind his eyes, tinged at the edges with darkness, the hallway stretched out. Bad art and maps of the facility dotted the walls. Ice crept up from the floor, frost turning hard as it reached ever higher. Something was walking down the center of the hallway. Impossibly tall. Spindly arms tipped with thin fingers. Fear blossomed in Jake’s chest, red-hot. He got a quick glance at the figure before he averted his eyes. It was maggot-grey, its wrinkled torso shot through with cerulean veins. It walked in a jerky movement that made Jake’s head swim. The ice was creeping higher and higher, consuming wall lights like black mold in a rotting house. The Maggot-Thing turned its head and stretched its neck out, the loose skin pulling ever tighter at the base of its squashed head.

It’s so cold please Lord it’s so cold

Metal crashed against something hard and Jake screamed awake, his hands lashing out at his desk. He stood up, his heart thudding. Midway down the hallway in front of him, the basement door had been thrown open. Muffled footsteps echoed down his desolate hallway, growing distant as the metal door closed. Someone is breaking in!

Without thinking, Jake ran around his desk and charged toward the closing door. He’d fallen asleep and someone had taken the opportunity to rush down the stairs! No. Not today. He was going to put an end to this.

Jake reached the door right before it latched. He yanked hard and threw himself through.

He took the stairs two at a time, his chest heaving. His heart was threatening to beat through his ribcage. He had no plan. No way to fight an intruder. What are you doing!?

Jake stiff-armed the basement door and found himself on the other side. He looked right, facing the laundry and boiler room. Empty. He turned left, his eyes scanning up from the floor. When he saw it, he felt his stomach churn.

Blood covered every inch of floor. A severed hand lay off to the side, coated in red-tinged frost. Its deceased owner lay in the center, torn asunder. Organs gleamed pink. Dark skin was coated crimson. Darrell. His only friend. Dead.

Jake fell into the wall, stifling a scream. He was barely holding on. At the end, just beyond Darrell’s mutilated corpse, the utility hallway double doors were thrown wide. Cold air rolled through into the main hall. The sound of the industrial cooling machine droned on, the hum of a thousand mechanical wasps. Jake could see everything.

It’s cold please save us please

He saw two rows of gurneys on each side of the utility hallway. Twelve sheets covering twelve cold bodies.

The intruder must still be down here. He’d unlocked the utility door. He’d killed Darrell. Fear and rage melded inside of him. He knew, in the rational part of his brain, that he should flee. Call the police and let them hunt this murderer down. But Jake didn’t want that. He wanted to hurt this monster. Break his bones. Inflict on him what he had on Darrell.

His tennis shoes crunched on the frosty floor. His breath misted. Claustrophobia clamped an icy hand around Jake’s throat. The utility hallway was a small space. Only a few closets with extra supplies or old furniture. The corpses took up every other square inch. Jake looked around, his fists clenched. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. But–

Voices seared through his brain. Jake howled and clamped his hands to his ears. It did nothing to stop them. It was a pandemonium of wails and howls, punctuated with whispered threats. The sound was coming from inside his head.

Ice was creeping up the walls. A pipe suddenly burst, the sound blowing Jake’s eardrums out. He reeled, his hands thrown out for balance. His fingers found the cold resistance of a corpse. He cried out and hugged his arms back to his body. He was beginning to blubber now. He felt helpless.

The double doors slammed shut.

Jake stopped and stared. You’re trapped. He heard the door lock engage with a final click. The air was ice now. It was getting colder.

Jake rushed the doors and threw his shoulder into them. They rattled, but did not give. He did it again and again, the shock of it traveling through his body. He could feel his face and fingers going numb.

The voices raised in pitch, laughter keening through. The corpses were laughing at him. They’d sprung a trap. He was a victim now. But for what purpose!? Why!?

From behind him, Jake heard the silky rustle of sheets moving. Jake paused his attack on the door. The voices had gone silent. He wanted to turn around. He wanted to see what he’d heard.

Jake did, tears forming in his eyes. All twelve corpses were sitting up. Wrinkled skin and dry, bulging eyes. Pale flesh gone loose with age. One by one each corpse smiled, lips pulling up into a rigid mockery of a human smile.

Tears rolled down Jake’s cheeks. He was frozen, his back pressed hard into the unyielding door. Then, from the corner of the hall where darkness gathered, the figure from his nightmare emerged. It’s real. Its fat, heavy head brushed at the ceiling. It’s nearly translucent skin quivered in unholy anticipation, long fingers curling and uncurling. The Maggot-Thing walked toward Jake, its gait long and unnatural. It was a hulking horror unlike anything else that Jake could have ever dreamed of. Cold emanated from it. He could see the air twist, an aura of sheer rime.

The corpses swung their legs around and set their feet on the frozen floor. Sheets slithered down in unison, the sound nearly lost under the roar of the portable cooler. They began to close in, each lurching body still grinning. The Maggot-Thing’s head twisted like a towel in a wringer. The skin split in several places, the blue wounds bloodless and gaping. It hunched over, pressing its gargantuan hands on the nearest gurney. The metal twisted under its weight.

They planned to claim him. As they had so many before. The first corpse grabbed at Jake. Jake fought, but it was no use. They were too strong. There was too many of them. They had him by the arms, by the legs, by the neck. He thrashed uselessly. The Maggot-Thing turned its head skyward in vile ecstasy. Its skin twitched, the veins inside squirming.

The voices in his head had gone silent. They had nothing more to say.





My Reads For 2017

Hello world!

In 2017 I took on the Goodreads Reading Challenge. I met my goal of 50 books over the course of the year. I’ll be posting an article talking about some of my favorites. If you click the link below you can see all 50 of the books I read: