Am I cold, or is the world cold? Is this shivering last-ditch attempt at physical survival or existential dread or the presence of something even more monstrous than me out there in the dark? I'm too tired to tell. So I close my eyes on the sight of these wild, wondrous woods and whistle, just in case. Sometimes you just want to rule out the worst case (or maybe get the inevitable over with).

The cold arrived in the middle of summer. Seth first noticed it first in the hallway, a narrow strip of air that seemed to separate the living room from the stairs. When he crossed it, his skin prickled. His breath clouded in front of him. He checked the windows. They were closed. He checked the heating system, though there was no reason to turn it on in July, but the cold remained. That night, he placed a thermometer on the hallway table. In the morning, it read twenty-one d

Dear Dreadful Diary, I may have made a mistake. Edward was to visit today, but in the hours leading up to his arrival I felt this unimaginable dread. I knew he arrived before his knuckles even reached the dark wood of my front door because a chill ran up my spine. The window above the kitchen sink knocked open on its own and a breeze found its way inside. When I opened the door my eyes fell first not upon his mesmerizing eyes but the amulet on his chest. It was exactly like t