Someone once told me that horror writing, good horror writing, often involves writing about what personally scares oneself.
I don’t apply this rule very much.
Partially because I don’t enjoy scaring myself—and partially because my fears are not all that interesting. They are mundane, mostly.
But hey, it’s almost Halloween, let’s have some fun.
I hate/fear/cower from the following. Continue reading
We do not know with what,
All we know is, Continue reading
High-minded aspirations and delusions of grandeur and self-importance related to art and culture and all aside, I like horror because I like horror. Yeah, I have done posts about how darkness challenges me, how I like to test my limits, but, there’s more to it—even if it is basal in nature.
Horror is fun.
Scaring people, making people shudder, it’s fun. Continue reading
In the pot,
My little thought,
Along with your summer day, Continue reading
An odd thing happened recently: I got scared.
Now, life scares me all the time. I don’t mean I live in constant fear, but, like, fear of rejection, fear of offending someone, fear of not having enough money, enough time, etc. All the usual stuff that one might more often label as stress or concerns or anxious moments happen to me.
But I don’t mean that. Continue reading
“I like him.”
Yun took a step back, and his heart hammered. “Oh, cool…”
Gale took a step forward, looking both concerned and afraid. “What’s…you’re not going to tell him, are you?”
Yun had something in his chest snap. “No… no… of course not.” Continue reading
As a nerd, and a “scholar of life” (if I may finally, finally reach peak pretentiousness), I’ve learned an important lesson for people—and artists especially.
And, before I go forward, a warning: It’s hard to apply.
Really fucking hard. Continue reading
Hope floated over her and wished that she could just tell her. Wished she could manifest and regale her with all the new things that would happen. All the beauty and joy.
But, there Karen was, for now, crying in a shopping center. Hiding in the changing room with no interest in putting on the swimsuit that she had taken from the racks. Trying to not make too much sound even as her heart broke at the seams and into so many pieces. Continue reading
I’m pretty sure I’ve hinted or outright said that I am a fan of Magic: The Gathering. But, I don’t think I’ve ever made it clear just how much I love the game. Because of life stuff, I had to spend years not being able to play, and, every few months I got an itch in my soul that would last for days. I had a friend who would come over to play, and it was like stepping back into a magical world that I visited when I was younger.
I missed it so much it hurt. Continue reading
“Nah, dude, it’s wicked.”
“I don’t know, man. It sounds very sketch to me.”
“Dude, dude, I can see through clothing. I can listen to a conversation a hundred feet away from me. It’s wicked.”
“You keep using that old, old slang, dude.”
“It’s the right word for it. I am not myself—I am better than myself. I am so much more than a person—a human—could have been in any time before now. That is incredible, by itself, dude.”
“You keep saying that it makes you so special. Explain that shit to me.” Continue reading
I don’t really know the age group that reads my posts. But, in case you are a young person like me—and you feel stressed out and worried and anxious about your future—I have something to tell you.
People have no idea what they are doing.
Your parents. Your teachers. People on the street. They only know what they bothered to learn. People are talented and knowledgeable, sure—but on only certain things.
Something no one has worked out perfectly is how to be a human on earth. Continue reading
“I mean, play along. How many was that?”
Brian put the white ceramic mug to his lips and sucked down more of the cheap coffee. His sister watched him for a moment, then rolled her eyes.
“It’s four, right?” she asked.
Brian flicked out his finger. “Ding, ding.” Continue reading
Dreamlike, you know. Harold walked among those stalks of grass and moved them as they whipped at his skin. Dry and somehow sticky—and somehow coating his mind too in that dryness. He was mentally warm, uncomfortable. But he kept going.
Up in front of him, something white and fluttering was there. Something that was the size of a person, but glowing. Pale skin. Bare and nude except for a small patch of fabric across the midriff. Wrapped loosely with jewels.
He should have been embarrassed, or at least aroused—but he was simply drawn forward. Continue reading
I don’t eat a lot of things. I have a series of complex and intricate rules regarding what I can eat, when I can eat it, and in what quantity. And, as such, it can make eating out—eating at fast-food joints—especially hard.
But, I do have some workarounds. Continue reading