Secrets to everything hide in a sleepy little town

How do you know if you’re awake?

My new book The Pool is up for Pre-Order on Amazon. It is priced at 99 cents for a limited time. Get your copy today.

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“Mangled bodies, mangled cars, and a road. The strong smell of ozone from power lines that buzzed overhead. Screaming… The hot Nevada asphalt that burned skin, and the contrast of cool skin from the loss of blood. A child’s action figure lying on a yellow road divider, splattered with blood. The blinding light of a magnesium road flare.

Shawn woke up sweating. The dream still lingered in his head like the slimy bits of a hangover. It stayed trying to tell him something.”

The editing process for The Pool Is finished, and the paperback is ready to distribute. This has been quite a process from the get go, but an enjoyable one. The sequel to The Pool is called The Summertime Stairs and is in the process of taking shape as we speak. I hope you enjoy this world that popped into my mind one day. It was cultivated by living in a small town that holds a lot of secrets, and history. If you have never been to Boulder City you should check it out. Maybe you’ll see something that doesn’t seem quite right, and gets your mind going. Cheers!

Pre-Order The Pool

THE POOL (1)

Nothing to see

Nothing to see

“Excuse me, are you Steven James?”

The guy looked like a CIA agent, complete with plain black suit and sunglasses, that were not needed since it was almost dark. In one well manicured hand he held an envelope that had the name in question written in what looked like old cursive, or calligraphy. The envelope was old, it was browning at the edges and looked like it would fall apart at the slightest touch. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Every time I glanced up at the man, my eyes would dart back down, as if the paper were made from a magnet exclusively for the two round objects that fit neatly in my skull.

I was not Steven James, the mysterious man who gets hand delivered letters from guys dressed up like secret service. No, I wasn’t him, but at that moment I wanted to be him. It seemed his life was a lot more interesting than mine. Bet he wasn’t an assistant manager of a gas and sip, who came home every night to sit alone and watch bad TV and eating bad food.

The man extended the envelope towards me, and not even thinking I said “Yes I am,” and snatched the note from his hand. He gave me a smirk as if saying he knew damn well I wasn’t who I said I was, making me instantly want to give him the envelope back. “Humanity thanks you.” He said. The man tipped his head as he walked away. I could hear his footfalls echoing, each one making the foreboding feeling that had come over me almost unbearable. I turned around to tell him the truth of my identity, and give him back the letter, but he was gone like he had become one with the molecules in the air.

The envelope seemed to burn in my hand. It wanted to be open, the note wanted to be read.

I opened the envelope. The brittle paper crumbled in my hands. Glue that had been sealed long ago obliterated into dust, leaving my hands a chalky yellowish color. The note looked newer, and was folded in classic letter style. I unfolded the paper methodically, relishing the moment even being overcome with the most horrible fear. It said in big red letters, “Look behind you.” As I turned I felt the cold hand of death on my shoulder, and then I was staring it in the face.

The emptiness is what I remember most. Where my soul resides is a dark place where monsters lurk in every corner. Yes my friends, hell is not the fire and brimstone kind of hell. Hell resides in your mind, on a Tuesday, when your bored, and coming home from work.

Oh are you wondering what I saw…? Well I saw nothing.

Other writing by me that you can find on Amazon. Click the images if you have further interest.

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