TweetChapter 1:The Price Chapter 2: Buzz Kill Chapter 3: Trekking The dirt of the mountain gave way to mud as the rain picked up, and the mud now gives way to rubber threads of tires. The rain is steady, not quite a wall but noticeable enough to trail down over your brow and invade [...]
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Posted 22 March 2011
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TweetChapter 1: The Price Chapter 2: Buzz Kill This forest is cool, dark in the way only secluded areas can be dark while the sun still shines through branches and pine needles. The area looks like any empty track of trees rocks and dirt, except the silent helicopter that stands still in the meadow [...]
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Posted 08 March 2011
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“Where did you get this exactly?” Edward asks under his breath.
“See the guy on the left, red-ish hair?”
“Yeah.”
“Got it from him.”
“As in he gave it to you? You’re borrowing it? It’s on loan?”
“As in sticky fingers.”
“Of course.”
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Posted 08 February 2011
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“Greetings From Sandy Hell.” Wish you were here.
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Posted 01 February 2011
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TweetAUTHOR Where was I going with this, again? Oh, right, a character. CHARACTER enters through back door. AUTHOR (cont’d) No life in you yet, I guess. Hello? CHARACTER No life in you yet, I guess. Hello? AUTHOR Huh. CHARACTER Huh. AUTHOR Well, let’s fix that. Wake up, buddy. CHARACTER What? AUTHOR I said, hello. CHARACTER [...]
David lowered his gun slightly, bringing his fist to his abdomen. He spat blood and propped a hand against the white painted brick wall. He panted, fueled by fear. He turned again to the far end of the hall. The creature met his gaze with its now yellow eyes, turned and left. Several others called to it in the distance.
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Posted 27 May 2010
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There were eleven, including David. Detective Ford, McDowell, and eight of their men. One lay upstairs on a cot, grasping a battered arm to his chest and muttering through his fever. Two men with guns stood watch, just in case.
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Posted 19 May 2010
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The animal with a chain now around it’s neck began to call. It’s cry echoing around the room, bouncing from locker to locker. The two in the cage began to echo their brother’s cry, static fur clinging to the metal bars of their now emptier cage.
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Posted 08 May 2010
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Tweet“This is a good vintage.” He scooped a handful of soil and let it run through his fingers. It fell in loose clumps, a dark brown shade, and landed back in the rough burlap bag on the floor. “It looks fantastic. That color is so rich, so deep.” He licked the few remaining moist flecks [...]
It was a smell, a feeling, that alerted Frank. Something was off. The smell of blood and decay, a tinge of saliva and feces. The fog shifted forward, revealing bones. Most were gnawed clean, some broken for the marrow. There were piles, Frank guessed just under a hundred, mostly animals. Most, but not all.
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Posted 30 April 2010
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