My stomach argued and protested. I needed to stop being picky, so I choked down a few bites of the burger, followed by a few sips of plain carbonated crap that lacked any kind of syrup. Maybe I should drive back there after dealing with the bank and demand better service? But then I thought it wouldn’t matter if I did, and maybe next, I would get to taste someone’s spit in my food. Then, it’d be fresh, at least. I wiped the rainbow of ketchup and mustard off the corner of my mouth and got out of the truck to head into the bank. It was typical red brick, with the name in a block font, the sun between the words Sunny and Field was creepy with its clown-like smile and childlike eyes. Whoever designed that had issues as a kid, apparently. Inside was well heated, which was welcomed as I came in through the glass doors. The place was deserted of customers, yet at each desk, off to my right and teller booths to my left, were employees. I casually counted eight with my eyes before turning

Back in the truck, I headed to Abby’s Second Hand and Foot Used Goods. I knew I could always pop on my laptop and order furniture delivered new, but I was curious about the store and the owner. Pulling up along the cracked sidewalk littered with old street lamps, I got out and looked around. Years of dirt and sun-beaten storefronts lined up one next to the other. Fliers about donations and the local foodbank covered the glass door while antiques sat in the window displays. Opening the door, I heard a bell chime, and a woman’s voice called out, “If you’re looking for the food bank, you’ll have to visit the church first for a voucher.” I recognized the owner when she walked around a long shoe rack displaying used heels and sneakers. Looking me over, she said, “Oh, it’s you.” I didn’t know how to take it, so my suave response was, “Yes, it’s me?” She rolled her eyes, “At the gas station, red truck? Almost hit me?” I nodded and cracked a sheepish smile, “Ah, faded blue tru

I started to get up, thinking that if I intervened at that moment, I'd wake up in a cold sweat, and the dream would be over. But the boy grabbed my sleeve, and like a vice grip yanking me back, I stumbled and made a noise. William's father stopped on the stairs. I could see the back of his mud-covered boots now. If William's momma wasn't mad about muddy boot prints in the house, then what the young boy did must have really pissed her off. He was wearing jeans, also caked with dry mud. I could smell the manure on him, and I remembered smelling the same thing in the warehouse. "I hear you breathing, boy. Might as well come out now." We didn't move, and I could feel William's arm lift to cover his mouth again. My attention was drawn back to peeking between the steps as his father took another step down, and then, it was like I was watching an old familiar cartoon, the man bent in half at such an angle that I didn't think was possible. The oil lamp swung gently as he held it out, m

I was done with the Motel of Horrors. After Tina had left me to ponder my life choices, I finally turned in the room key. There was no point in asking for a refund. Even if I knew what I’d seen and what I didn’t afterward, I couldn’t prove it. The early morning was a gray, foggy mist leftover from the rain that still threatened overhead. I decided to head out to the new house to unlock the door and unload the crap in my truck. It wasn’t a big deal driving out there, the distance from town wasn’t too bad, and the main strip of road was deserted at this time. Finally, after about 15 minutes of driving, I reached the turn for the long gravel driveway. The weathered for sale sign was gone. Someone had apparently removed it. Usually, a person or family is happy with sunshine coming out of their ass when they buy a home, and I used to be that kind of someone. But not today. Between the dreams and subtle things that looked like warnings, I wondered if I’d genuinely made a mistake. Anothe

“Good to see ya again, Mr. Lake. I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself properly last time. Names Buck Johnson,” the large farmer said, holding out his hand. I took it reluctantly and shook it, getting a smile from him. “Nice to meet you again,” I replied politely. “So’s, I hear you ended up buying the place after all?” I nodded, glancing between him and the sheriff, “Yeah, I figured it’d work for what I was looking for.” “Good deal, and I suppose you won’t need to use that barn?” I shrugged, looking away, not sure how I wanted to respond. “Nah, he’s a writer, probably wouldn’t know the first thing about using a combine, am I right, Mr. Lake?” I looked at the man, tempted to say no because I could pay someone else to use it, but instead just smiled, replying, “I suppose you are right, sheriff. Anyway, it was nice seeing you both again. Take care now.” I gave them a quick nod and turned, trying to get back to my truck. They didn’t say anything or call after me, to which I