They hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. Someone mentioned him at a dinner party, and it led to them visiting his house the next day. His butler let them in when they asked what had happened. Continue reading
Poem: Sure of Its Purpose
The sound is a whisper,
On the air,
Along with the creeping essence,
Of the coldness of hands,
That grace the hallways, Continue reading
Microfiction: The Listening Orb
It did nothing but listen. Sitting there, glowing with a faint level of power, it listened to mankind. Throughout all recorded time, it stood as a stalwart ear for the world’s secrets. It pondered and gleamed what humankind did not know even about itself. Continue reading
Poem: This Is Magic, Surely
When we press a button,
And something more,
Then what you would expect from a button,
Happens,
Then that’s magic, Continue reading
Poem: Horror Story
I suppose the way to tell,
At the end of the day,
If I have written good horror,
If I am making something that will scare others, Continue reading
Getting Back Into Horror Stuff
I wasn’t sure if I had fallen back into loving horror. Then I bought a box set of Five Nights at Freddy’s Fazbear Frights (the covers remind me of classic Goosebumps—both have bold, creepy designs that don’t rely on gore). Then I binged multiple episodes of The Magnus Archives (the first episode is so good and utterly horrifying). Then discovered, all over again, how much I like Lovecraftian horror in general. Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Nighttime Headlights
He was closer at the time. That, I think, was the only reason I survived, and Herb didn’t. Like a hungry animal, the trick is simply to be the second slowest. Though what was chasing us was not an animal—I’m not sure what it was.
What we could see of it for certain was a light. We were out walking our city at night, a bit drunk, a little exhausted from all the dancing, but mostly calm, chipper, and riding that buzz of a good party, when a light came from behind us. Two of them, shining with a slight orange tint. Continue reading
To Know What We Didn’t Before
Boy, am I glad that human society has allowed us to do specialization. Because the more I learn about my subjects of choice, the more layers there are within them to go down.
My interests are things like economics, sociology, media, and art. And the more I discover about any one of those topics, the more I learn of the people who specialize in them—the people dealing with stuff like this for the longest time. Continue reading
Poem: Soreness
My muscles are not burning,
They did that already,
They are not like meat,
They are simply wood. Continue reading
Running In The Florida Heat
I live in Florida, so you’d think I would be used to this. But wow, it’s so very hot outside.
For those that do not live here, and have not visited, Florida has a wet heat. It’s like walking in a thick soup that sticks to your skin. When I was in Illinois for a few weeks, coming back felt—and I mean this was eerily accurate—like being slapped in the face with a wet towel when the elevator doors opened. Continue reading
Reading A Big Paperback
It’s been a while since I’ve read a massive paperback book. The kind of book so large that it’s not fit for the human hand. The kind you hold up with spread fingers, and it’s way too heavy, but you need to keep it aloft or it will fall on your face.
And, well, it’s just been nice. The look of ink on real paper and watching the remaining pages shrink. It’s satisfying in a way that digital books are not—and could never hope to emulate. Continue reading
Poem: Running Again
It had been a little while,
Since I last ran,
And wow, did my legs forget.
My arms too— Continue reading
Writing Is Simpler Than That
Storytelling is simpler than we let it be. What we consider cliché, what we consider trite or overdone, will work if it’s good storytelling. It’s the reason that superhero stories can have the same plot across the board but still succeed.
What is a structure, if not a template? What is a bacon cheeseburger, if not the same ingredients each time? Continue reading
That Hustling Music
Lately, I’ve noticed a genre of music I enjoy—but cannot place what it is called. The tracks don’t seem to exist under a unified style, but all have one thing in common: they are about hustling.
And by hustling, I mean working a lot for money. Songs that seem tailored to the ideals of the entrepreneur. Continue reading
Poem: Pollenated Air Of Doom
Yay,
It’s pollen time again,
Time for the screaming void—
To claim my eye-based friends, Continue reading
