Out Now
In digital, paperback, and hardcover.
See the ad in Fangoria magazine, summer 2025.
Madness echoes in the canyon, and if you listen closely, you might hear your own scream.
Step into the shadows of the human psyche, where reality blurs and the familiar turns menacing. In Screaming into the Canyon, nightmares don't simply lurk in the dark-they seep into the cracks of everyday life.
With prose as sharp as a scalpel and an unsettling intimacy, this collection drags you through surreal horrors, psychological unraveling, and the quiet terror of being truly seen.
These are stories that haunt, linger, and whisper long after the final page. You may think you're safe, but the canyon is deep—and it's listening.
The springs and cogs inside the clock had long ago rusted in place, frozen and exhausted and unable to move even a single revolution more.
The pendulum that once swung proudly and precisely lay now in its own puddle of chains, sticky and darkened with years of grease and dust.
“Floater”
The men, in their black suits, and vaguely religious paraphernalia, were everywhere now. Gathered in the streets and houses. At restaurants and stadiums. Wherever people had once been, there, now, were the Mourners, huddled around the men and women and children who now each stood silently, staring through unseeing eyes forever into the heavens.
They tore their clothing and pulled at their own hair, wracked with grief. They sat on the ground and rocked back and forth, perpetually overcome with their sadness.
They sat and they wept and they mourned.
All of mankind had fallen away.
And they mourned.
“Cantharus”
“It was singing now. And it sang that song—that fucking song—she’d heard countless times before.
She hated that song, and despite her fear, she couldn’t help but think of the playground, surrounded by the other children who spun around her in circles, singing that fucking song over and over until she ran to the teacher, tears streaming down her plump, red cheeks.”
“Something Ain’t Right with Dinah”
