We might have missed September, but we’re back for October, “Spooky Season,” in time to talk monsters, haints, spooks, and other things that go bump in the night. And some of those that “bump back.” Something in the Dark came out, fittingly, only a couple weeks ago, so we’ll probably get around to some Jed Horn, too. You can watch on YouTube, Rumble, or over on X.
Just Passing Through… Jed Horn was on his way home when he stopped for a bite to eat in the small town of Leutenburg. Something warned him that there was something off, but that was part of why he stopped. Jed doesn’t back down from premonitions of evil. When he’s just about thrown out by the sheriff, he discovers that there’s more to Leutenburg than even he suspected. An ancient evil stalks this town, an evil that’s come back despite seeming to be killed over and over for a century. And the other newcomer who’s dabbling in things he shouldn’t be makes matters worse. It’s up to Jed, with the power of holy water, prayer, and his .45-70 Winchester to put things to rights. If he can survive what’s waiting in the dark. Get it today on Kindle or in Paperback! It’s been a long time since I visited Jed. There was an uptick in interest with the popularity of The Lost, and being between series, I thought it was finally time to come back to our Winchester-toting Witch Hunter. In some ways, as I started my career as a storyteller scaring the sleep out of Boy Scouts around campfires, many,
I wasn’t sure at first whether the older man who came through the door was the sheriff or one of his deputies. He was probably in his late fifties, balding, and with a bit of a gut, though I wouldn’t have called him fat. He was wearing a uniform jacket over his dark brown shirt, pulled aside to show the star on his chest and hiked up to keep his sidearm clear. He walked past my table as I leaned back, clearing my access to my own sidearm, just in case. I wasn’t eager to get in a gunfight with the local law, but I’d seen enough in little towns where the heebie-jeebies put my hackles up to know that I couldn’t necessarily count on things to stay sane. I didn’t know what was going on here, but the fact that the diner’s staff had apparently called the sheriff over some stranger who just wanted to eat given the relatively early hour didn’t bode well at all. I was taking care not to stare at the sheriff or the waitress as she came to the counter and spoke softly to him, pointing toward my table, of course. The sheriff—his presence