Cool news this week: my short story MIKE’S POND is live on Wilde Oats Issue 9.
You can check it out here.
Odd story about how MIKE’S POND came to be.
It started as an experimental piece while I was participating in a writers critique group back in 2009. We decided to all try writing horror stories for a change of pace, and it got me thinking about the stories that scared me as a child.
I have an older brother so the source material was considerable. He used to tell me all kinds of frightening things about the world, bizarre suburban legends, in addition to disturbing “truths” of anatomy. Did you know that, instead of blood, your butt is full of green juice?
We grew up in a suburb north of Buffalo, New York, where there were many plots of undeveloped, wooded land, tempting exploration grounds for pre-teen boys, especially in the summer when we were largely unattended by our working parents. There was an overgrown place called ‘Shotgun,’ where supposedly a boy got killed by the father of a girl he got pregnant. Then there was Mike’s Pond.
Without giving too much of the story away, since I’d really love people to read it, Mike’s Pond evoked the most imaginative tales from my youth. It was an acre or two of swampy land between the buzzing thruway and our handsome suburban enclave, and it was cordoned off by a fence.
All the legends about the place are true. Well, at least I heard them at some point. The characters are fictionalized, and the narrator is more of an amalgamation of me at different points during my teenage years than me as a twelve-year old boy. The story turned out to be more coming-of-age than horror. I guess I can’t help myself.