Detroit Stories Quarterly

10/08/2026

So starting this week I’m gonna do something a bit different. I’m gonna start from the beginning.

I started writing The Black Box last year, thinking this would be another longer form short story like the others I had written for AfroFantasy Detroit, like The Egg and The Witch. Both of which I’m very proud by the way.

But as I continued to write, and as the story continued to evolve – which means as the story began to tell me where it wanted to go – it became increasingly clear to me that this one wanted to be a novel. Whether or not it will be a shorter or longer novel yet I’m not quite sure, but definitely a novel.

But not only did I start to see that this story was going to be longer than the others; this one was going to be something special. The Black Box is different. It’s strange, I think in a way that reflects my love for Clive Barker stories because it touches on themes like religion and death in a way that might be uncomfortable for some. This is to say that The Black Box isn’t for everyone, but then my intention has never been to write stories that appealed to everyone. My intention as a writer has always just been to release the stories inside of me. Because I have to. I feel like all writers, male or female, exist in a constant state of pregnancy because as soon as we deliver one story another one is being formed.

But more on that some other time. Back to The Black Box. Starting today I’m gonna return to Episode One and share it with you as an audio chapter and every week I’ll share another chapter in audio format until we reach the end of the story together. Doesn’t mean I will stop writing. I don’t even know how to do that. Last week I left you with Part 34 “The Twins Down the Rabbit Hole”, and this week I will be working on Part 35, wherever that leads me. But this will give us a chance to revisit how this all got started in the first place and then hang on for wherever we end up.

Come aboard.

https://afrofantasydetroit.substack.com/p/the-black-box

03/08/2026

Finally I looked over at the image on the front of the third door, and at first it made me feel a bit more calm. Or at least less like I needed to run out of there in a damned hurry. It was a large peacock with the head of a woman. She had sharp green eyes that appeared to be made out of precious stone, and they were focused on me. She was smiling.

“Come closer,” she said.

Without even thinking, I took a step toward that door when I felt James seize my arm like a vice. I looked over at him, and he was shaking his head.

“Look away,” he said. “Now.”

“But James…”

“You should come closer,” she said again, only this time there was a more seductive quality to her voice. And this time she was looking at James too.

“Both of you.”

https://afrofantasydetroit.substack.com/p/the-black-box-part-34-the-twins-down

27/07/2026

Once the door had finished stretching itself all out of proportion, all we could hear were a scattering of echoes and murmurs reaching out from whatever was contained inside that box. I could feel my stomach clench tight, and I took a step back, looking around at the neighborhood that used to seem so familiar. But then the scent of cinnamon became stronger, and I found myself taking one step, and then another, toward the yawning mouth of that door. James was behind me, and just as I got to the door I started to turn around…I don’t know…maybe to see if we were doing the right thing?

I felt the shove of his palm as he pushed me through.

“You always taught me never look back, Freddie. Remember?”

https://open.substack.com/pub/afrofantasydetroit/p/the-black-box-part-33-the-twins-dance?r=4bk73a&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

20/07/2026

The continuing serial horror story The Black Box will return next week. In the meantime, here's an oldie but goodie.

Delving into the world of science fiction, fantasy, horror, and Afro Futurism through exclusive Detroit-focused short stories and previews of ongoing and upcoming works.

17/07/2026

Our future begins in our imagination. Our Afrofuture. Join me at 2 pm at Pages Bookshop this Saturday, July 18 (tomorrow) for a great discussion on why Afrofuturism matters for Detroit with Denise Crittendon and Lauren Hood (shown here).

They predict possible thunderstorms for tomorrow, but fortunately that is for the Detroit of this world. We will be imagining another world altogether. Together.

06/07/2026

It was the way she laughed that made Nathan begin to relax, in spite of the way she looked. The sound of small glass bells he had always heard in her voice whenever her laughter spilled out over the fullness of her lips. And yet there was that certain thing, that undefinable bond, that comes to exist between two people who have shared one another’s lives, bodies, hopes and dreams over so many years that comes to serve as a more reliable recognition of identity than mere surface appearance or voice.

And it was this exact thing which lit up inside of him when Joan laughed, that let Nathan know his Joan was in there somewhere. Without a doubt she had been changed, and not just in appearance. Most likely it was as she said; she couldn’t remain the same and remain alive.

If that’s what she was.
https://afrofantasydetroit.substack.com/p/the-black-box-part-32-joan-explains

29/06/2026

“Dammit Nathan, you never could listen.”

Joan drifted closer, a grayish blue arm reaching out to place her hand over his chest. Nathan’s eyes grew wide as he tried to back away but he was hardly able to move as the pain around his heart grew more intense. When he looked down at Joan’s arm as it pressed first against - and then through - his chest, he noticed he could see through her arm to the floor below.

But then the pain began to recede. And as it did, Joan eased her hand out of her husband’s chest. She lowered her face, which looked as if it had been fashioned out of gray clouds and mist, until it was just inches from Nathan’s. She smiled.

“Would it matter if I told you there would have been an easier way to do this? But then that wouldn’t have been Nathan’s way, would it?”

“Sh*t, Joan. It really is you.”
https://open.substack.com/pub/afrofantasydetroit/p/sh*t-joan-it-really-is-you?r=4bk73a&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

22/06/2026

But then, as whatever this was continued upward, step by step, the stairs complained less, and whatever was being pulled along behind must have detached itself as Nathan heard the sound of a heavy object tumbling down the stairs until it landed back on the hard surface below with a loud slapping noise.

By the time The Choice reached the top of the stairs, its form was the same as what Eretha had witnessed at her first meeting, an awkward being fashioned from wrong angles and unrecognizable materials that weren’t meant to fit together in any sort of harmony. It was short, shorter than Nathan by a good foot or more, and the look in its eyes, which were nothing more than twin holes drilled into the face, appeared somewhat sad and tired.
But then it smiled, and gestured toward the table and chairs.

“Please. Sit. I know this must be confusing for you.”
https://afrofantasydetroit.substack.com/p/the-black-box-part-30-joan-but-not

08/06/2026

“Joan? Hey.You told me to step inside and now I’m here. So what is it I’m supposed to do now? Was that really you or was that another trick?”

A dry hissing noise rose up from the shadows at the base of the stairs, followed by what sounded like something very heavy and slick pulling itself across a hard surface. Toward the stairs? Nathan reflexively took a step back, even though he had nowhere to go.

“Sh*t. I’m gonna die in here.”

He recognized the giggle that greeted his stark end of days declaration, yet at the same time he recognized it as being off, like a familiar musical instrument that was just enough out of key.
The room wasn’t cold, but he felt a chill.

“Sweetness.”
https://open.substack.com/pub/afrofantasydetroit/p/the-black-box-part-29-nathan-enters?r=4bk73a&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

01/06/2026

More tears streamed down Nathan’s face as he relived the breath-snatching pain of that moment, remembering the way she had called his name just before he entered the room. It had sounded like a question, like there was something she was about to ask him, but it also sounded a bit surprised.

And yet at this current moment he could feel Joan also standing beside him, even as he saw her body layed out before him at the exact time of her death. Her delicate fingers were once again entwined in his, same as they were on that perfect day spent together on Belle Isle. Except that this time her fingers felt cold, the texture dry and rough. Not like flesh at all but like something…else.

Nathan felt his heart beginning to race.

“The good and the bad, Nathan. The memories only you and I could know because only you and I shared them together. This is me, my love. Despite what your eyes will tell you. Now step inside.”

https://open.substack.com/pub/afrofantasydetroit/p/the-black-box-part-28-once-upon-a?r=4bk73a&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web