This weekend, I completed a short story entitled The Toll Collectors, which is as I type this now at the mercy of the United States Postal Service. With luck, it will be accepted for publication before the new year.
The Toll Collectors is a ghost story of sorts, about a man who takes an unplanned detour onto a long-abandoned stretch of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Fitting, since the story itself was somewhat of an unplanned detour; I was researching something else entirely when I happened upon a website dedicated to exploring this abandoned stretch of road, which actually exists, nestled in the hills of Pennsylvania a little east of Pittsburgh. The landscape was so eerie, so evocative, that it seemed ideal for the setting of a classic horror story. Hopefully, those responsible for reviewing it will agree.
A great deal of the credit for getting the story out the door should be given to my lovely wife Katrina, who, apart from being somewhat nonplussed by the fact that she is apparently the worst natural disaster ever to strike our fair country, is quite charming, patient, and a damn fine editor to boot. So if you're reading this, do her the favor of saying "Hurricane Katrina." I know at least one person who would greatly appreciate it.