Ronald Malfi’s Mourning House Is Simply, Transcendentally, Brilliant

In life, there are times when one comes upon a work of art that is so stunning, so brilliant, and so fantastic that the mind struggles to accept that it is real. So is Ronald Malfi’s “Mourning House.” For years, I have searched for a piece of storytelling, a novel, a short-story, a movie, a television show, that could chill me. That could reach down in my soul and twist it. That could make me shudder and break out in goosebumps. Something I could savor every moment of and enjoy at some deep, transcendent level. It’s a rare thing, a piece of fiction like that. But “Mourning House” accomplished it. I loved this story. I loved every word, every syllable. I found myself reading it line-by-line, both afraid and excited to scroll down and see what was next. I cannot recommend it highly enough. If you read this story and don’t like it, I’ll give you an e-copy of That Which Should Not Be or The Void. Hell, I’ll give you both. It’s that good.