I scare easily.
I’m sure you find that surprising. Perhaps even a little silly. I mean, you read what I write, after all.
But that’s because I’m afraid.
I’ve been afraid ever since I was little. I would creep down the stairs and peer out the window at the cemetery across from my house. I would look out at the headstones, and at the way the moonlight would glow in the granite, illuminating the names of the dead.
Unlike the children I write about in these short stories, I was neither brave, nor was I especially witty.
When I had sufficiently terrified myself, I would sprint back up the stairs, dart into my grandmother’s room, and hide myself beneath her blankets.
Part of the reason I write about kids and horror isn’t to exorcise the demons of my past, but to explore the bravery and courage of other children. You and I both know how difficult the world is at times. Especially for kids.
That’s what makes writing about heroic children so much fun.
Perhaps my favorite kid is Jimmy Hsu. Jimmy’s a little autistic, and he not only remembers everything he’s read, but he understands it as well.
There are some other kids kicking around the stories. Some of them aren’t especially nice, and some get a little more than what they deserve.
That being said, why don’t you come on in, sit down, and find out what Jimmy Hsu’s been up against.
Other volumes in the series:
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