Sunday People were bored, the weather was unsettled, and the Play-a-Rama was busy. The arcade had made a tidy profit, but it didn’t make you smile. Your mood was bleak as you shuttered the arcade and got into your Ford Escort. Concerned for your well-being, I
But I’m not a quitter. All day Saturday, I watched you manage the arcade. Too anxious to perch, I feezed in circles through the rafters, watching the witch sign float around you. A herd of local teens rumbled in, bought a pile of quarters, and stampeded for the Skee-
Saturday Mid-morning, I possessed a cat who had caught, tortured, and eaten one of my mice. We sat on the sidewalk licking our paws, and I puzzled over my bonding conundrum when, to my eternal annoyance, the damned Seraphim Yofiel manifested before me. Yofiel, First Guardian of the Third
Labor Day Weekend 1992 Friday I am a demon/familiar without a witch to bind. It’s a problem. I’ve been hunting for a new witch in Ruxton Beach, New Hampshire, for three hundred years. Humans were once my meat puppets; now my powers are fading. The best I
For days, Rat built her nest, pressing each bit of masticated paper into a shallow bowl. Above the nest, humming metal walls twisted upward into darkness. Below her nest, a sliver of light poked in through a hole too small for anyone but Rat. She worked constantly, compelled to finish
Song of the City is a contemporary fantasy featuring possession, a haunted object, and an unlikely narrator.
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