There's something in my closet. Its raspy monster breath makes my curtains flutter at night. I tell my mom, but she says it's just the sound of the wind whispering secrets to the moon. There's ... [+]
There's something in my closet. Its raspy monster breath makes my curtains flutter at night. I tell my mom, but she says it's just the sound of the wind whispering secrets to the moon. There's ... [+]
When I get home from Sunday Service, I strip my pressed white shirt in the living room. I step out of my slacks. Peel off the tight black socks. I fumble naked for my dive skin, the black and blue ... [+]
The way Little Miss Perfect tells it, you'd think I was head of a gang of street thugs when I was a kid. We weren't thugs, we were twelve. All we wanted was some prize money, or at least a bit of ... [+]