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A crack in the treeline. We were no longer alone.

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Peering out his apartment window at the happy young couples walking hand-in-hand on the cobblestone streets below, Hansel Sumter had never felt so alone in his life.

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Each story has its own way of wanting to be worked out. Each story has its own way of unfolding. And the only problem lies in our attachment to how we thought the story was going to go. To how we thought the trail was going to look.

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“Technically, I pulled myself over.”

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I like risk and a good story.

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When a chapter ends, another begins and is in our own hands the possibility to write a new and more beautiful story.

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Walked in on my grandma’s body. She was murdered in her house and I went there to help her prepare for Mother’s Day which was going to be the following day.

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I want to tell a story about my body but the only stories I’ve read about bodies are ones in which a broken body becomes fixed.

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It is such a struggle to be authentic. This cannot be just me.

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The spookiest stories for the spookiest month of the year.