Family Horror

Sam Hunter is a bit of an animal. He's a former Twin Cities cop who lost his badge because of excessive force. Abusive husbands, child molesters, and other lowlifes wound up looking like they'd been mauled by dogs...or wolves. Now Sam's a low-rent PI in Philadelphia. He takes the kinds of cases no one wants. His clients are usually on the fringes of society. The kind who are prey for all manner of predators--human and otherwise.

The theme is revenge in this gruesome tale about the lengths we will go to for retribution. This is one of several stories in the Smoky Mountain Horrors collection.

A kidnapping turns to be unexpectedly deadly when the Mafia encounters ogres and demons. This is one of several tales in the Smoky Mountain Horrors collection.

Nice young boys collect white supremacists to feed a Lovecraftian monster. This is one of several tales in the Smoky Mountain Horrors collection.

A mythological figure comes and takes away bad memories and replaces them with someone else's. This is one of several tales in the Smoky Mountain Horrors collection.

Deep in a kudzu forest, a small town sacrifices an unsuspecting traveler. This is one of several tales in the Smoky Mountain Horrors collection.

The Hatfields and the McCoys set aside their differences to guard the gate of hell. This is one of several tales in the Smoky Mountain Horrors collection.

A retarded young girl saves the lives of those in her care with box of broken crayons. This is one of several tales in the Smoky Mountain Horrors collection.

In this chilling short story, the nature of a priest's prisoner and his crime are revealed through a letter. This is one of several tales in the Smoky Mountain Horrors collection.

A boy discovers the special connection between fishing, grandfathers, and the great beyond. This is one of several tales in the Smoky Mountain Horrors collection.

Enter a melancholy world of Mardis Gras, sacrifice, and the death of a child. This is one of several tales in the Smoky Mountain Horrors collection.

Steven is a writer, by all accounts of self-proclamation. But no artist can be expected to work under serious pressure, especially not when the pressure consists of his own mother indenting his tender skull with the muzzle of the pistol held in her hand. Suddenly, it's write or die for Steven. He better tap away on that typewriter or expect to be extracted from the land of the living before he's had the opportunity to finish anything he's ever written. Not to mention that his recently departed father lying on the floor beside him should supply enough motivation.