Enjoy this excerpt from my first novel, Pareidolia. The premise is available here, and the table of contents can be found here.
MARCUS
Powelton Village, Philadelphia | June, 2000
Zeke buzzes me in. He lives alone, thank Christ. I lurk beneath a parade of throbbing orange lights until I reach his door, which I bang on hard enough to jiggle off the little number under the peephole. It’s never occurred to me that the orange lights in the hallway look like ’50s flying saucers.
Enjoy this excerpt from my first novel, Pareidolia. The premise is available here, and the table of contents can be found here.
BALERO
Downtown Philadelphia | June, 2000
It was a dry spell from hell. Never seen anything like it. The holy grail of friendly, stocked dealers who promptly returned their pages and weren’t crazy were suddenly impossible to find. In desperate times wishes for dealers both friendly and prompt were abandoned in favor of those who lived nearby and didn’t own a large gun collection and perhaps did fail to take their medication, but even these fleeting ghosts were not to be found throughout the dark months of April and May.
Enjoy this excerpt from my first novel, Pareidolia. The premise is available here, and the table of contents can be found here.
LEAH
Northwest Philadelphia | July, 1999
The long walks started in June. I was sick of sitting around at home, pretending to read or staring at the cat. I’d disappear behind the wall of trees across the street from our house almost daily, losing myself for hours. Dad asked about this over dinner one night, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Where was I off to? Just getting some exercise? Yes, that was it. Not that it was a secret.
Enjoy this excerpt from my first novel, Pareidolia. The premise is available here, and the table of contents can be found here.
(PART ONE)
ZEKE
Rosedale, MD | September, 1998
Cory’s coded message brings me to a cinderblock apartment on the edge of a Baltimore suburb. I dial 011 for the Miller birthday party. Arrows on signs guide me through a pale maze to a long low room where balloons gather in corners and look down on people in various states of milling under lights turned up too high.
Enjoy this excerpt from my first novel, Pareidolia. The premise is available here, and the table of contents can be found here.
PART ONE
In your mind you have capacities, you know;
To telepath messages through the vast unknown;
Please close your eyes and concentrate with every thought you think;
Upon the recitation we’re about to sing:
Calling occupants of interplanetary craft;
Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft.
– Klaatu
Jason Herrboldt 