In a distant train station on a snowy afternoon, a fellow traveler passed me by. Shoulders hunched, hands in pockets, expression distant. For my part, the spring in my step threatened to launch me into the clouds — I had a paper sack of pastries in hand and a new destination ahead.

On the crowded platform, he sidestepped me, his foot landing square on a patch of ice. Hands flying from his pockets, feet sliding out from under him with a gritty scrape, he started to fall.

We both whooped in surprise. I snagged his upper arm, keeping him upright despite the slush. For a moment, we froze, him half-suspended in mid-air, me still as stone to prevent us both going down. Then he clambered up my shoulders, righting himself on shaking legs.

“Thank you,” he gasped.

I helped him over to a nearby bench, standing next to him while he caught his breath. An engine roared in the distance, fast approaching. As he steadied himself, I reached into my paper sack, withdrawing a fresh jelly doughnut. The warm scent of sugar and fried dough cut through that of sharp, cold air. I offered the confection to him wrapped in a napkin.

Eyeing the pastry, he waved a hand. “Oh, I couldn’t eat your doughnut!”

Before he could protest further, I tipped the bag to show him the chocolate doughnut nestled in the bottom. “Don’t worry, I saved the best for myself.”

My new friend accepted my offering. “One could argue I got the best,” he said, and took a huge bite.

Licking the sweet, sticky glaze from my chilled fingertips, I hustled off toward my approaching train, cautious of the slush. Over my shoulder, I tossed him a grin and a wink. “One could argue,” I agreed.

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Beneath the Bluebonnets: Tales of Terror by Texas Women

Read my eco-horror short “Well Being” in this fabulous new anthology, in which a mother follows strange impulses from tainted water to find her daughter.

From Mary Shelley to Tananarive Due and Mariana Enríquez, women have long shaped horror—often without equal recognition. Living closest to the genre’s edge, women know these fears firsthand: lost autonomy, violence, childbirth, survival.

Set in Texas, a land of haunted histories and increasingly restrictive laws, Beneath the Bluebonnets emerges from the raw intersection of terror and endurance. Written by twelve Texas women writers: R. J. Joseph, Lauren Oertel, L.H. Phillips, Kathleen Kent, Madison Estes, Jess Hagemann, Emma E. Murray, Jae Mazer, Iphigenia Strangeworth, Jacklyn Baker, S.G. Baker and edited by Carmen Gray, this collection is urgent, unflinching, and deeply haunting—stories that refuse to look away.