First of all, thank you for sharing “An Unavoidable Consequence Of . . . ” with us here at Nightmare! It’s a somber tale that, sadly, seems to be evergreen in relevance. I’m curious, where did the first concept of this story come from and has it changed from its first version?

The concept came from an incident of violence that occurred in my city, just a block away from my house. A young boy and his mother were randomly stabbed in the parking lot of a grocery store and the boy did not survive the attack. That same day, my young son and I had been out on a peaceful walk in our neighborhood, not more than a few hundred yards from where the murder occurred. I needed to write something to deal with the chaos of violence intersecting with supposed “safe” and “peaceful” places like my normally unremarkable lower-middle class suburb. It seemed natural to bring the specter of mass shootings and state violence into the story, as well, given that they’re part and parcel of the same issue.

I have a lot of thoughts about your inclusion of a parenthetical description of each child before their incident. On the one hand, it’s important to make us understand that every life lost is a whole, nuanced life, and I appreciate how much I felt I knew each new victim personally. On the other hand, it reads almost like an in memoriam before there’s even a reason to memorialize, a chilling thought. Why was it important for you to include this every time?

I didn’t want the victims to be faceless names or statistics. The social and political systems that foster—or even encourage—random violence too often do a disservice to victims by shifting media attention to the perpetrators of that violence. Only when they can be used as political tokens or cultural currency do victims seem to take on any identity. I didn’t want that to be the case here.

The strange man’s repetition of “as safe as they ever were” is chilling. Is there any truth to what he’s saying, or is it purely an attempt to appease these people into submission?

I think there’s some truth to what he’s saying, in that the world—really, the universe—is an incubator for violence and we’re foolish if we believe it simply can’t touch us.

I noticed a theme of class struggle throughout this story; we’re not entirely certain whether this is happening in other neighborhoods, but the reality is that it’s happening in this one, and our main characters can’t afford to move away and simply have to create a life for Malcolm within these constraints. How do you think Malcolm’s life is going to be growing up under these circumstances?

I think his life will be challenging, without many of the joys we traditionally associate with childhood and adolescence. I would hope that his parents help him find happiness in what he can experience, but the window in which that experience can happen might be growing smaller every day.

Was there always not going to be an answer to why this is happening, or was that a choice that unfolded while writing?

There was always not going to be one. The problem is too big, too abstract, and too terrible to definitively pin to one specific cause.

What do we have to look forward to from you in the future?

I have a new collection that was recently released—Everywhere is a Horror Story, from Grimscribe Press—and I’m working feverishly on two novels, either one of which would be my first.