fiction and musings from a gay black dude with delusions above his station
The garage looked as cluttered as the yard. Boxes filled every nook. And stacked on top of them were assorted doodads that the darkness of the space would not reveal. But in the midst of all the clutter, Creepy Man had created a clear pocket for folding chairs that faced what looked like a covered…
Most of the ghost stories centered around 313 Greene Street. It fit the bill as the requisite scary house of the neighborhood. Each generation of neighborhood kids learned the tales about the house and embellished on them. It wasn’t hard to make up stuff about the place. For one, the house itself looked like it…
