Return of the Teacher: A Necromantic Scene

“We can’t keep running like this,” said Phren, out of breath. “We have to stop her. You’re a necromancer, how do we stop her?” “I have no idea. This isn’t some lost soul in the wilderness. This is a rotted goddess!” “There’s no hiding from this thing,” continued Phren, “and there’s no throwing it off.... Continue Reading →

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Inktober and a little NaNo

Hey all! As promised in my previous post, here are the results of my Inktober. One thing that is different between this year's Inktober and last year's, is that this year, I dabbled a bit in sequential art whereas last year, the thought of making even a two-panel comic scared me to death. It still... Continue Reading →

nightwish was my jam: a poem

Thumping base and opera, the talk of nomadic mystics on fire content to be shut out. Those fingers of timbre and rhythm reached through my chest and spread into my lungs. They planted seeds that grew into trees and filled me up. Included in the excluded, in the crazies and dreamers with passion eating them... Continue Reading →

Watch Me Whip: A Countersink Scene

Luis. That kid was a real firecracker. He had a way of setting people on fire and not because of his flame throwing contraptions—he could never actually set fire to anyone with those. Maybe Ashby, but surely no one else. No, it was something internal that set people off.  Seventeen years old and already he’d... Continue Reading →

Bloodletting: a poem

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, sinned and sinned. And tomorrow, I’ll sin again and again and again. Ivory fangs and fire. Kiss and burn, Forever and Ever, Amen. The body and the blood, that sweet, euphoric blood. I could stop if I was brave enough but I’m not. What am I inside, after all,... Continue Reading →

Gross in a Good Way: Notes on Horror Writing

The head-tilt "Hm." When I tell people I like horror stories--horror movies, horror games, and horror books--that is the response I get. And if the conversation progresses and I say that I am working on putting more horror elements in my own stories, the head-tilt "Hm" intensifies. What most people don't realize is that the... Continue Reading →

Cardstock Priest: Short Story

Miriam leaned on the doorframe as Vincent prepared for mass, his first mass since it had happened. Sometimes he wished she didn’t have so much free time on her hands. How was he supposed to psych himself up with her standing there? “I still don’t think you should be doing this,” she said. Vincent smoothed... Continue Reading →

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