I Grew Up Writing About

You'll Wrest A Burning Sword From An Angel, But You're Afraid Of Bats?" "i'm Not Afraid Of Them. I Just Don't Like Them. They're...furry. Flying Things Shouldn't Be Furry. It's Not Right. And If I Ever Meet The Creator, I'm Taking That One Up With Him." "that I'd Like To See. Your One And Possible Only Chance To Get The Answer To Every Question In The Universe, And You Ask, 'why Are Bats Furry?'" "i Will. You Just Wait.

I Remember Hearing Myself Start To Whimper, A Five-year-old, Crouched By The Side Of The Road, Staring Into My Father's Eyes, Whimpering Because It Was So Dark And There Was No One Coming To Help, Whimpering Because My Mother Was Back In The Crushed Car, Not Moving, And My Father Was Lying Here In The Dirt, Not Answering Me, Not Holding Me, Not Comforting Me, Not Helping My Mother Get Out Of The Car, And There Was Blood, So Much Blood, And Broken Glass Everywhere, And It Was So Dark And So Cold And No One Was Coming To Help.

It Reminded Me Of What Dad Said After Every Snail’s Crawl Home From Albany When Snow Hit.“it’s New York, People. It’s Winter. We Get Snow. If You Aren’t Prepared To Deal With It, Move To Miami.

I Was...a Journalist...though My Typical Beat Was Freelancing Articles On Canadian Politics, Which Never Included Any Mention Of Demonic Phenomena, Though It Might Explain The Rise Of The Neoconservatives.

He Leaned Her Back Against The Tub, Setting Her Head On The Edge, Then Washed Her Shoulders. "i Know I Left You Once." She Opened Her Mouth, Wanting To Say It Didn't Matter, It Was Forgotten. But It Wasn't. "i Know I Hurt You." Again, She Wanted To Argue. But She Couldn't. "i Know I Said I Won't Leave You Again, But I Also Know That's Not Enough, And That The Only Way You're Going To Trust That I Won't Leave Is If I Don't". He Slid The Cloth Over Her Arms. "if This Ends, Hope, It Won't Be Me That Ends It. I Think You Know That.