Of all the fiction experiments conducted on this blog, “The Ginger Man” has to be the least satisfying. One of the primary objectives of this experiment was to create an effective piece of horror fiction, and on that count it failed miserably — there was no suspense, no foreboding, no real terror to make the psychological terror seem plausible. The hope was to improve on a rushed draft written almost three decades ago, in the immediate wake of a high school friend’s sudden death; while some things came out better in this version, on the whole this was a step in the wrong direction.

He tries, he fails, he eats some pizza, and tries again.

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