“Memories of last night manifested slowly from the back of her brain, every new detail hammering her heart like a war drum:… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“She grappled his shoulder and pulled him closer; her nose in his neck and the memory-scent of her very first time; that… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“New sounds rustled through her anti-depressant haze; a gentle reverberation from the heart of the home... another creek... another thunk... rapid clicking… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“She wondered if she was the only person trying not to imagine what death-by-bear looked like. Would bears pick the bones white?… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“The feeling was FEAR, she realized... but it was a new type of fear; more sincere than the jitters she felt when… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“Trevor climbed once again to the land of the living, naked except for an antique gas mask strapped to his face. As… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“The search party became zombie silhouettes in shafts of early-morning light, yawning, despondent, and halfway home when a boy’s scream pierced the… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“Trevor could almost see the invisible gas leaking from the broken furnace, billowing around his body, wafting in his wake from the… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“I’m trying to be an adult. I’m trying to be responsible. I’m trying not to call home crying. But it’s hard. It’s… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“The scar rippled from the top of her bikini line down to her thigh. Where normal girls had hair, Ava had a… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“I’m pretty sure your house isn’t haunted,” he said. She shrugged. “Part of me hopes you’re wrong.” — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“Foreboding” might have been the appropriate word. “Dread.” The PROMISE of fear. It was tangible fear... smellable... the stale odor soaking into… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“The boy was there too, stumbling through the living room horde and passing out magic mushrooms from a paper bag. His eyeballs… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“The search party became zombie silhouettes in shafts of early-morning light, yawning, despondent, and halfway home when a boy’s scream pierced the fog—“OVER HERE!”—and… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“The feeling was FEAR, she realized... but it was a new type of fear; more sincere than the jitters she felt when it rained… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“The whirlwind in his brain—which had so many times tugged his pituitary in ways that made him TAKE instead of GIVE— subsided for the… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“Trevor could almost see the invisible gas leaking from the broken furnace, billowing around his body, wafting in his wake from the laundry room… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“New sounds rustled through her anti-depressant haze; a gentle reverberation from the heart of the home... another creek... another thunk... rapid clicking like the… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“I’m trying to be an adult. I’m trying to be responsible. I’m trying not to call home crying. But it’s hard. It’s hard when… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“He smirked. “Decision time, pretty lady... back to reality?” She touched his cheek. “Or down the rabbit hole?” — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“Memories of last night manifested slowly from the back of her brain, every new detail hammering her heart like a war drum: the flowers,… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“Trevor climbed once again to the land of the living, naked except for an antique gas mask strapped to his face. As he peered… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“She wondered if she was the only person trying not to imagine what death-by-bear looked like. Would bears pick the bones white? Or would… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“The scar rippled from the top of her bikini line down to her thigh. Where normal girls had hair, Ava had a quilt of… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
“She grappled his shoulder and pulled him closer; her nose in his neck and the memory-scent of her very first time; that sickly-sweet stench… — Jake Vander-Ark Copy Share Image
