I wrote a little piece called "To Put Away Childish Things" a few years ago. It appeared in Kaleidotrope before the 'zine went digital, so I have a dead tree copy lying around somewhere. It's a strange little tale, but one which a reviewer mentioned seeing a novel based on the story's characters...
Well, I'm writing it. A novella, at least, one which I'm calling Skin Jobs (for now). But I'm starting where the story leaves us...
“That’s him?” Tag called over his shoulder. “That’s Santiago?”
The portly man stopped his climb and dabbed his forehead with a rag. “Yes. Hanging from the—”
“Huh?” The fat man’s face twisted.
“It looks like a cross,” Tag said. “Somebody’s crucified the poor old bastard.” Tag started down the debris pile, his heavy synth boots crunching and cracking over loose scrap. His coat, long in the hem, flapped like black wings as his slow descent became a run.
Tag Deeken is a sort of detective. Think Future Noir.
What about the weird house story, Aaron? It's still there, incubating. Fred told me he needs some time to work on it.
Have a lovely day.