I told myself I wouldn't do this. I didn't want to share any part of the new book yet. But - I'm enjoying it too much, and that feels selfish. Lord knows I don't write for any reason other than to share stories, so I edited a few bits down to this little excerpt. You might like it. Might not. Might think WTF?! Might ignore it all together. No matter what you think, or if you even read it at all, I'm enjoying writing it. Those who know me won't be surprised. Yet. - MCM 6/20/26
Mid-afternoon sun spilled through a dirty window, cutting across the living room in long golden beams. Dust drifted lazily through the light.
Teddy the cockroach made his way up a dusty work boot.
The boot had been there longer than anyone could remember. So had the body beside it.
The humans who once occupied the old house were long gone. Their furniture remained. Their toys remained. Their guns remained. Even some of the humans themselves remained, though mostly as bones and geography.
To Teddy, the body wasn't remarkable. It was simply part of the landscape.
The house wasn't particularly exciting most days.
Occasionally a bird would strike one of the grimy windows. Once, during a storm, black walnuts crashed through the kitchen window. That had been a glorious week. Roaches, mice, and squirrels all ate until they could barely move.
Of course, the squirrels tried taking more than their share.
Typical greedy squirrels.
Never trust a squirrel.
Teddy was on his way to visit Sylvia, who lived in what she insisted on calling "the AC."
Anklebone Canyon.
Pretentious biatch.
Sylvia claimed life in the AC was superior to life everywhere else. Better dining. Better views. Better neighbors.
She also claimed there were bodies upstairs.
Teddy didn't believe that part.
Sylvia had a talent for turning every story into a bigger story.
By the time Teddy finally escaped her latest lecture on cartilage cuisine and the accomplishments of her sixty-three children, he was more than ready to head home.
Unfortunately, home had changed.
The smell hit him immediately.
Mouse.
The stink was strongest around the old work boot.
The dust had been disturbed.
A tail trail cut through it.
Alec.
Fat Alec.
Teddy stared in disbelief.
One of the boot laces had been chewed clean off.
Nesting.
Either Alec was expanding his residence or expanding his family.
Neither possibility appealed to Teddy.
He stood silently on the mildew-stained rug and considered his options.
He could stay.
He could listen to Alec's brood squeak and scratch and multiply.
Or...
He could finally see what was upstairs.
The thought made him uneasy.
The living room was all he'd ever known.
He knew every crack in the floorboards.
Every hiding place.
Every food source.
Every annoying neighbor.
But sometimes a roach reaches a point where staying becomes scarier than leaving.
Teddy turned toward the staircase.
The peeling wallpaper made for excellent climbing.
Above him, the steps rose higher than he'd imagined.
Beyond them lay dust.
Darkness.
Mystery.
Possibly bodies.
Probably more squirrels.
Teddy sighed.
Then he started climbing.
After all, how bad could upstairs be?
copyright notice © 2026 Michael C. Metzger
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