It started out as a simple drive down a country road.
Oh sure, Hillman was thinking about suicide.
Oh sure, the dead woman is in his back seat was goading him on.
What was the point?
Why bother living?
Who am I?
Turns out Coyote has something to say about that.
Coyote...and a Troll.
WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING ABOUT STEVE VERNON
"The genre needs new blood and Steve Vernon is quite a transfusion." –Edward Lee, author of FLESH GOTHIC and CITY INFERNAL
"If Harlan Ellison, Richard Matheson and Robert Bloch had a three-way sex romp in a hot tub, and then a team of scientists came in and filtered out the water and mixed the leftover DNA into a test tube, the resulting genetic experiment would most likely grow up into Steve Vernon." - Bookgasm
"Steve Vernon is something of an anomaly in the world of horror literature. He's one of the freshest new voices in the genre although his career has spanned twenty years. Writing with a rare swagger and confidence, Steve Vernon can lead his readers through an entire gamut of emotions from outright fear and repulsion to pity and laughter." - Cemetery Dance
"Armed with a bizarre sense of humor, a huge amount of originality, a flair for taking risks and a strong grasp of characterization - Steve's got the chops for sure." - Dark Discoveries
"Steve Vernon was born to write. He's the real deal and we're lucky to have him." - Richard Chizmar
My cat thinks I'm pretty cool, too.
Average sales.
* Coyote Calling Card *
The boy trembled in the darkness, waiting for the trapdoor to swing open. He knew that he would be beaten. He could hear the troll’s footsteps thumping like heavy rocks against the floorboards.
“Help me god, help me god, help me god, help me...”
The boy’s lips moved, over and over, mouthing a tightly whispered prayer bleeding into a litany of despair.
“God help me god help me.”
The footsteps hammered closer.
God, it seemed, wasn’t listening.
The sliver of light that marked the edge of the trapdoor widened. The boy blinked against the sudden brightness. The trapdoor swung open. A face looked down. At least he was wearing the father mask.
“Did you lose her?” the troll rumbled.
The boy nodded.
“Why?” the troll asked. “How did it happen?
“She was thirsty,” the boy explained. “I tried to give her a drink. The cup wouldn’t fit through the willow bars, so I opened her cage. She flew like a bird right out of the cage.”
“How’d she slip the chain?”
“She pulled it off. She left some skin behind.”
“Come on,” the troll said. “Follow me.
