My story “Last Rites For a Vagabond” has been published over at Beneath Ceaseless Skies. It’s about ghost-hunters, drugs, and making poor life choices. It’s neither “lovely” nor is it just a “good story”.
Here’s a snippet:
The dispensary was so organized it made my skin creep. Give me a hovel little better than a roofed-over hole and a crone with teeth as black as night. She’d hardly care what you bought or why; might even give you more if you spoke straight to her. No one likes a liar, but life forces you to it.