GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE HOLE
I still dream about the fire. The way the flames clawed at the old barn, the smell of burning wood and something worse. The way my little brother screamed for me to save him.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: ROOTS
My uncle Jonas was a recluse. I thought he was interesting, but nobody else in my family could stand him—especially my mom, his baby sister. She blamed Vietnam. It wrecked him, stole the big goofy brother she once loved, and replaced him with an imposter dredged from the putrid mud of a battlefield. When the war ended, Uncle Jonas moved in with my grandma and never left. After she died in the late ’90s, when I was just a kid, he and my mom fought bitterly. She wanted to sell the house, but he refused. Being the oldest, he had just as much claim to it as she did, and he dug his heels in.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE HUDSON ABDUCTION
The river was calm, moonlight shimmering on its dark surface as Jake cast his line. Beside him, Ryan cracked open a beer. "Perfect night," he murmured.
Then, the sky split open.
An eerie orange light descended, wrapping around them. Their limbs went stiff. They could think—they could scream in their minds—but their bodies refused to move.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL:THE GIFT
Emily’s phone buzzed—Jill. Her cousin’s name glowed on the screen like a ghost from the past. They hadn’t spoken in five years. The message was simple: I’ve been thinking about you. I miss you so much. I’m back in New York. Join me this weekend in Woodstock. It will change your life.