Content Warning: Racist language It was Tuesday on a sluggish June afternoon in 1956, and Samuel Cohn sat and smoked a cigarette, waiting...

It is my four hundred and fortieth year upon this Earth, and I can no longer recognize my own face. I know it in essence, have seen the...

The vans travelled alone, materializing in back alleys and underneath streetlamps, when the funeral shroud of night had been drawn over...

Jamie looked like neither a girl nor a boy. They had ear-length brown hair, high cheekbones, and thin skin that wrapped their rocky jaw...