Poppyseed part 4

“Thanks, doll,” he said, smiling so large it cut his face in half. Coming out of anyone else’s mouth, the term may have sounded patronizing. But from him, it was a secret name for an inner circle of compatriots. As if “doll” was a term reserved only for his closest friends, implying a lifetime of... Continue Reading →

Poppyseed part 3

This morning, he was wearing a powder pink polo, a slight deviation from his usual attire inspired by the blossoming summer heat. The July sun heated up the wet air and turned the city into a swamp. Even Neil, who hated showing his knobby knees in public, had been forced to retire his long sleeve... Continue Reading →

Poppyseed part 2

Neil waited for him every morning as he sipped his triple shot latte and tried to hammer out chapters for a book that would make his editor happy. He used the beautiful stranger’s arrival as the signal to take his first break. When the mystery man floated in like a long-legged ghost, Neil closed the... Continue Reading →

Poppyseed: short story

He ordered a coffee and muffin every morning at 10am without fail. One coffee, black with three sugars. One muffin, poppyseed, glazed. Day in and day out, rain or shine, he whooshed in from the street in his black ankle boots and his tight khaki pants, his pastel button-ups with an embroidered alligator on the... Continue Reading →

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 →

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