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 →

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 →

Necromantic, Chapter One: The Visitor

The stranger came like rot on the breeze. Swift, silent, and unpleasant without making any lasting impression. He was ultimately forgettable – contextless in all contexts – and that kept him safe. There were two ways to stay safe that Cyr had come across in her short life: be frightening enough, or forgettable enough, and... Continue Reading →

Lavender Fog: A Necromantic Drabble

The past is colored in lavender fog whenever he tries to remember it. He can see the bodies if he focuses, but their clothes are faded, the setting obscure, his age uncertain. When he tries to remember details, he finds that he can imagine things having been many ways at once. At one time, he imagined... Continue Reading →

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