This is where you can get my fiction.
My first collection of short fiction, Copper and Stone, is available in print and digitally through Amazon. Here are some reviews—feel free to add your own!
- These are dark tales, make no mistake, but beyond that, we find ourselves invested in characters who manage to gain real dimension in their development despite inhabiting the incredibly small sphere the short typically affords. And, too, settings are powerful here, in each and every story, one after the other.
- Read this book. Feel her feels because they’re YOUR feels. If you ever want anyone else to know how you feel, what you went through, what that heartbreak felt like or how scared you were…hand them this book.
- Strong writing with totally believable characters that develop organically. Nothing here feels contrived. And there’s a surprisingly dark undercurrent that pervades many of the pieces without overtaking them. In short: Lovely.
- When I finished the volume, I felt very satisfied…though there are several which remain with me, whispering at the edge of my mind.
- It’s a true talent to spin the tales, develop the characters and still be able to wrap up things up with clever endings in only a few pages- and Bethany Snyder does this masterfully.
- Snyder has a tremendous capability for creating nuanced and believable characters, and it serves her well in her short story writing. You really get drawn in to each one of her characters, and that makes it a joy to read her book.
- This collection is very well written and creative with characters that I feel like I know, characters that will make you cringe as you identify with their flawed and dark all too human qualities. I enjoyed it on the first read and am enjoying the second read even more!
The stories below are all included in Copper and Stone.
The cemetery goes all the way from Second Milo Road where Gary lives, back a country block to Old Bath Road. It’s new out back there, with frosty flowers and cracked urns that people put there on Memorial Day and the Fourth of July the summer before. But up front near Second Milo Road and Gary’s house is the old part, with crumbly stones and some graves that are fallen right over on their fronts so you don’t know who’s buried there unless you lift the graves up, which Gary dares me to do but I never do.
“Underneath” appeared in Issue 3 of Kindred Magazine, but is no longer available. Edward Sorensen hasn’t spoken in months, not since his brother Thomas died. What makes him finally speak, and what tale does he tell? You can download a copy here.
And so it was after four o’clock before the brothers finally put on their heavy coats and wool mittens and allowed their mother to place matching red wool hats upon their heads. Their father had sharpened their skates that morning; Edward’s drew blood on the pad of his thumb when he tested it “to be sure it was ready.” A bandage later and the boys were on the ice, 75 feet from the shore, hockey sticks in hand.
The crossed the dirt path and edged around the crypt. The hair on the back of Danny’s neck stood up when the back of the stone came into view. It wasn’t as big as Kevin said it was, but it was big enough. Jet black, too, and slick and shiny from the rain. Kevin walked around to the front of the grave. He spread his feet apart and folded his arms across his chest. Danny looked past him, down the hill and across the ball field to the lake. It was flat and silver and silent. No jet skiers or speed boats on a day like this.
The fourth day in Deadwood: roulette wheels, sunburns, steamed hot dogs and salt and vinegar potato chips. In the afternoon, a thunderstorm. Sherri thumbed a paperback. The boys took a nap. Bill lost two hundred dollars at the poker table. Dinner at the Double D, a doggie bag for Seth’s leftover French fries and Styrofoam cups for milkshakes. Sherri had finished his bacon cheeseburger and Heinekens. She didn’t believe in leftovers.
She had slept through the sunset and it was approaching full dark; she ought to be frightened by the thought of someone rummaging around in her kitchen, knocking about her preserves, but she found herself angry instead. Her cheeks flushed; her fists clenched. She pulled herself into a sitting position on the lounge chair and straightened her house coat, which was damp and translucent with sweat.
There are tunnels under my alma mater. They serve as the setting for a spooky little tale called “Three Times Fast,” which appears in Geek Force Five 2015.
Caroline knows that the breathing she hears behind her, ragged and shallow, is just Max (a pack-a-day smoker), but she bites down on her lower lip to squelch a scream. Copper floods her mouth. It’s only five steps across the narrow room from the nightmare door to the green metal door that leads to the tunnels proper, but her feet sink in the wet cement of her terrified childhood, and each step takes approximately a year, one for each year the nightmare came.