For me the most enjoyable aspect of being an avid, damn near rabid reader has always been the short story. But ever since I started turning pages of collections and anthologies I’ve only run across a handful or two that kill. Talkin’ Ellison’s “Jefty is Five”, Darren O. Godfrey’s “Inland/Shoreline”, Winter’s “Splatter Me An Angel”, Campbell’s brilliant “The Words That Count”, Lumley’s excruciating and devastating “The Viaduct”…

Just a few off the top of my head. But, you know, tales that, when you hit the end it hits back, a sucker punch square into the heart.

So the other day I’m cleaning up my study and lo and behold I discover a little chapbook called Los Angeles Horror Writers Association: Chapter and Verse. Where I got this I haven’t a clue. Possibly Kelly Laymon, or Jen Orosel…doesn’t matter ya jackass Tyree. Anyway, one title caught my eye: “Great Queue of Wasted Prayers” by Weston Ochse. To be honest I’m one who was under whelmed in regards to the much-lauded Scary Rednecks—I just didn’t get what all the hullabloo was about. But I HAD enjoyed the hell outa Ochse’s contribution “The Knocking Girl” in Kealan Burke’s charity anthology Tales From The Gorezone. So I read “Great Queue of Wasted Prayers” with mucho anticipation and was utterly floored. Yes, I thought, This man can write.