Novella - The Door

An ominous door that is only visible in darkness appears in a teenage boy's room. Aided by his longtime best friend, he seeks to solve the mystery of why it appeared - and what lies behind it.

Outside, the night air is still, and from my room I cannot hear even the lowest of stirs to trouble the slumbering suburb. The door looms above me in somber silence, watching me as I press my eyes closed and try to fall asleep. But with it beside me I know that no sleep will find me. I can see its outline cut through the thick darkness, more solid now than it’s ever looked before, so real to me that I know it could be opened, either by me or by whatever lurks behind it. Slowly, I arise from my bed. Afraid to make a sound, I tiptoe around the door, examining both sides with care for any cracks or imperfections. But I can find none. I reach my hand out to touch it.

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Short Story - Breathe

After realizing he is dreaming, a teenage boy chooses to resurrect his recently deceased best friend. The question then becomes: will he awake?

“Jason,” a girl’s voice says, muffled from behind the door. I wait a few moments, my back to the door. “Jason,” she repeats. I purse my lips, and I listen to my heavy breathing. The tapping on the door continues. I consider dreaming about something else. But I have already made up my mind, it seems, for no matter how hard I think of other things, happier things, the tapping on my door continues. Suddenly the tapping stops, and I hear the familiar creak of my door as it opens. I blink, and my room is clean again. But I’m afraid to turn around. I’m afraid of what she’ll look like. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. And I turn.

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Short Story - The Crossword

A narcissistic Princeton dropout is driven insane by his inability to spell a simple word in the newspaper crossword section.

I walk at a leisurely pace to dump my coffee cup in the trash, though I keep the partially drenched newspaper in my hand. I hold it a few inches away from my waist, for I hear it drip occasionally. Every few seconds, a bit of coffee will roll down the side of the paper and splatter noiselessly on the ground beside me. As I walk to my departure gate, I soon realize I have left a trail behind me that leads all the way back to the restaurant. Even on the airplane the newspaper drips, though I keep it on the fold-down tray so that it spills away from me. I tap the eraser of the pencil against my nose and stare at the empty boxes. Normally, I sleep on flights, but right now I feel oddly drawn to this crossword.

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Short Story - The Glasses

A young professional develops an obsessive insecurity with the large glasses he must wear and comes to blame them for the mundanity and loneliness he faces every day. Frustrated, he hurls his glasses down the stairs, but then discovers he is not alone in his house.

    Sometimes I wonder what the world would look like if I didn’t have to wear glasses. I wonder if it is any different, if I only see what my glasses let me see. There, on my bedside table next to my alarm clock, I can see the outline of the silver rims cutting through the darkness. The lenses glow a dull red and magnify the blinking digits from the clock. There, through the silky shadows trimmed in moonlight, my glasses sit and stare.

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