Devil House

by John Darnielle

My mother always taught me to take stock of the moment you’re in, to not miss the big transitions. “If you miss one, you don’t get the chance to see it again,” she said.

There was a movie about it a few years later, River’s Edge: it was popular, because people love to tell themselves stories about the grave dangers posed by wayward youth. They always arrive at the same questions—why don’t these young people care? how did they get like this? where were their parents?—but the asking of these questions is an exercise in self-portraiture. They’re not good questions; they’re not even questions. They’re ghost stories masquerading as concern.

There is ample space in the brain for several worlds to occupy at once.

One thing seldom asked of those on whom disaster has laid its hand is what their future plans were before the flood.

Anger passes. Disappointment vibrates.

It was as if he’d only existed for her until he stopped sending her a check every month.

people who sleep badly know that the hours between five and eight may be your best chance to ramp down into a little of the restorative sleep that keeps madness temporarily at bay.

If you are questioned as to your whereabouts on a given day, you should immediately ask if you are being arrested. If you’re not being arrested, you should invoke your right to remain silent. What you were doing with your time on a given day is nobody’s business but yours,