Mytro is on Storybundle!

My favorite book bundle, Storybundle, is featuring my YA book Mytro alongside a few other amazing titles. You can get the whole thing for a few dollars and some of your purchase will go to charity. I’m really pleased to be able to work with SB on this.

They write:

The Light in the Dark YA Bundle, curated by Allyson Longueira: I love young adult fiction. And I’m not the only far-from-young adult who does. So, when I had the opportunity to curate another StoryBundle, I knew YA was the way to go.

Each book in this bundle sparks a light in the dark. Sometimes, that light comes from within. Sometimes, the characters must fight back the darkness to find it. And their stories demonstrate the incredible diversity of young adult fiction, from lighthearted and inspirational to dark and gritty.


Fiction: Overpass

This story comes from my collection, School Police, available now.

Anne Wondra was eighteen and Ken Pierce was thirty-five. She was beautiful and had a face that fuzzed out of focus for Ken, like a dream. Ken met her at a bar, they talked, she showed him her fake ID, and she told him she ran by his house every three or four days. One time, in June, he called to her when he saw her, she came over, and he asked her out. She agreed, they went to a movie and three weeks later he took her virginity. He only met her at night, only when she wasn’t seeing her friends. He would never meet her parents. He would never see her bedroom and never tell her he loved her, which he did.
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Fiction: Nikki Loves Josie

This story comes from my collection, School Police, available now.

It’s true. Ask anyone. The first time we noticed it, we were all in Gerry’s basement bored and doing this kind of tickle fight teenagers do and you could feel the tension between some of us and some of the slow learners just wanted to tickle. But Nikki and Josie never touched, just looked. All their friends were either worried or jealous.
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Fiction: Outside of Brilliant

This story comes from my collection, School Police, available now.

We were about a mile from our house, heading west on Route 151. It was the middle of summer. Our twins, Joy and Andy, were in the back seat, and my wife tugged on my sleeve and pointed. Leonard, our cat, was sprawled on the berm. I pulled off and my wife and kids got out. Leonard was still breathing, but it didn’t look good.

He yowled in the back while the kids built up a blanket around him like a nest. My wife sat in the back to keep their hands off him. His legs were bloody, and my wife mouthed to me in the rear view mirror that they were broken.

Joy was crying. Andy was looking at Leonard and trying to cover him up.
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Fiction: The Doctor

This story comes from my collection, School Police, available now.

It was clear that the tech people were tired of each other’s company, and one of the tech women, a brunette who said she was from Kansas, kept looking at Michael and smiling across from her at the bar. They were all in the one tavern that catered to ex-pats. They served burgers with feta and soggy fries and lots of the local beer. The tech people were here most nights.
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Why I Loved Mytro

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Without spoiling too much about his book, I’ll compare his book to others that have truly resonated with me throughout life. First being the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. There were moments in Mytro that truly reminded me of some fantastic moments in Hitchhikers. The nuances Biggs detailed in the characters taking us through a fast-paced action adventure, as well as the actual beings in charge of the Mytro were pretty intense. I’m totally biased in some ways because my family comes from Barcelona, so he had me smiling a lot every time the Castilian character would attempt to speak English.

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Excerpt from The Smoke

Here’s something I’m working on right now. Thoughts?

The smoke came at night and left by morning. Sectors of the city were covered by it and the people that lived there and who did not escape as soon as the first licks of smoke snuffled at their doors, those too sick to move or too old or those who had given up, stayed in it. Lights flashed in there, people said, and under the fog horns people said they heard a crunching like a dog at a bone. By morning that sector had been changed. Sometimes they were crowded with new buildings, sometimes the previous buildings were destroyed and the ground left flat and shiny as ice. Some days all that was left was a white marble temple to a forgotten god. The people that stayed were gone.
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Dad’s Garage


If you needed a hammer or a saw or a roll of red caps or a broken broom handle or a nest of telephone wire or a anti-seize paste or anything you could ever imagine you could find it out in Dad’s garage. The core of the garage was a beautiful old work bench, so dark and scarred that it looked medieval. There was an iron vise bolted to it and jar after jar of screws, nails, and nuts arrayed along the back edge. An old radio, tuned forever to the local NPR station, would crackle on and and stay on while you worked out there. If you needed a tire iron or a jack or a bucket for used motor oil or a length of tubing to start work you’d dig around that bench and risk jostling that radio until you pulled it out, a prize that came at just the beginning of the race.
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