The devil plays tennis with the last man in Chicago while a brontosaurus looms in the distance.
An elderly blind woman thinks she's feeding the birds.
A music industry insider falls short of immortality and makes a shocking confession.
A girl with sharp teeth and an excellent sense of smell shops at a convenience store, avoiding chocolate.
And fourteen more.
"Detzner's writing asks all the right questions, and answers just enough of them to leave your mind toying with the ideas for days ... If you're looking for cheap scares, look elsewhere. This is a writer that deals in an uneasy fear, in the unknown but somehow personal."
Derek Gettys, The Arson Club
"....stories of unholy compromise, quiet madness and apocalypses both great and small... If you’re not familiar with his work, these eighteen stories are a great overview of what he’s been doing in the always flexible horror genre."
Michael Penkas, Black Gate
This is the earlier and less successful of my two short story collections. Every so often I reprint a story from here somewhere else, which sometimes causes a sales spike.
The Black Plague
1
I go straight to the theater from the shed, still smelling like grass clippings. I think about driving home to take a shower and coming straight back, but I don’t want to wait. She says she likes the way I smell. I believe everything that she tells me, every word that comes out of her mouth. All day I’ve been walking behind the lawnmower, thinking about when I’ll have everything done and I’ll be able to see her again. I trust her so completely that I stand at a distance from myself like a ghost and wonder how this is happening.
I walk around the far end of the building, the side opposite the main entrance where the patrons aren’t allowed to go. There’s a bank of windows on the wall facing the sidewalk that leads to the maintenance entrance. I can see the costume shop, a half a dozen thick wooden tables with white sewing machines attached to them and giant rolls of fabric mounted on the walls. The light from the hallway lamps makes everything look yellow. Only Karen and Liz are in the shop. I am amazed that I remember their names. They are working on opposite sides of the same dress, leaning in close and whispering to each other. They glance at me and giggle; Karen waves at me as I unlock the door and come inside. Liz laughs and covers her eyes.
There I am again, standing outside of myself. I can still hear them laughing as I walk down the hall.
