John wakes on a cold concrete floor with no memory of how he got there—just a bare cell, a dead rotary phone on the wall, and a slot in the steel door that slides open to feed him. Then the phone rings, and a familiar voice begins to pull at everything he thinks he knows.
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A man takes LSD for the first time, hoping to cure his anxiety. But as the trip begins, reality starts to fracture. The hallucinations feel too real, the visions too vivid. Something is wrong, and the line between what's real and what's not is disappearing faster than he can hold on to it.
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Seeking the tranquility his therapist promised, Elijah sets out on a quiet evening hike through a South Carolina battlefield swamp. A stranger in heavy Civil War wool waits by the trailhead, the path grows stranger with every step, and the woods do not seem to want to let him leave.
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Strangers with dead, slate-grey hands are opening accounts at Bryan's small-town Illinois bank—thirty-one of them, each depositing ten thousand dollars exactly, every one listing the same apartment a thousand miles away. Then a warm one steps into his lane, and she already knows his name.
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Clearing out her dead father's tenement apartment, a photographer finds a story on his computer—one that describes the room she is sitting in, the loose brick behind the radiator, and exactly what will happen to her next. The final story of The Grey Anthology.
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