Peter Emmett Naughton

Renee sat by her mother’s bedside, listening to the machines across from her beep and chirp and ping like they were having a conversation. She had been reading her mom a story from a book she’d had since she was a teenager but stopped when it became clear that her mother wasn’t listening.  There were good days and bad days with her mom, though lately it was difficult telling them apart.  Mostly it had become a series of long silences punctuated by brief periods of lucidity. J

New story came out today. Wrote this one a while back and it's been knocking on doors for several seasons looking for a home. It's particularly meaningful to me for a few different reasons. This story wound up leading to the creation of two others; the first was a previously written piece that never quite worked for reasons I couldn’t identify at the time. After finishing this one I revisited the former, significantly revising the first half and completely rewriting the secon

Amy watched as the ascending numbers on the screen hit thirteen gallons. “Jesus, I had even less left than I thought.” A moment later...

A lonely girl befriends a haunted house, an ordinary box conceals a startling secret, the hunt for a missing mystery leads to greater...

Nell barely noticed the differences anymore. Some of the hotels were slightly nicer than others, but her company was neither stingy nor...