OUT OF CURIOSITY AND HUNGER out now

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My SPLICE x VERY HUNGRY CATERPILLAR creature feature is loose upon the world. Still working on getting the paperback ready, but as for all my short novels, it’s 99c for the e-book.

Amazon: https://amazon.com/dp/B0C7PGK147
Universal link to all other vendors: https://books2read.com/u/m2q7Wk

“All-Nighter”

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Photo by Francesco Paggiaro on Pexels.com

I had a vivid memory of college essay all-nighters and the weird way I felt on the other side of them, felt this intense compulsion to capture it.

At the end of an all-nighter
I am deadmanwalking I am shambler
I am three bottles of coffee
and sugarmilk buzzing hornets
through my bloodstream and still
eyelids droop like broken shades
At the end of an all-nighter
words blur and syntax stops
making sense in every sentence
no matter how many times I
repeat and repeat and repeat
to proofread a misktae is always
left behind after the paper is graded
but all that matters now is that
it is finished ended entered submitted
At the end of an all-nighter
the sunrise looks wrong and
the shadows in the bedroom
are in the wrong place when
I’m deep in the covers cave
to hibernate until next class
At the end of an all-nighter
I am a god I can see all things
the mist of fluorescent light
and the parts of things the
pixels of the fabric of reality
static shifting so prettily
At the end of an all-nighter
I am an olddeadgod preparing
to be resurrected with the
embalming fluid of new coffee

“Eat His Heart”

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I honestly wasn’t sure what I could do for the Shakespearean-themed Tragicomedies issue, because I enjoy Shakespeare, but the only play I know (and mostly understand) backward and forward is the comedy Much Ado About Nothing, and how do you make that horror?

So I considered my favorite line over and over again and thought about how easily Much Ado could have been a tragedy. Throw in my favorite kind of supernatural, and while I’m sure some scholars of the play might turn in their graves, I love the way “Eat His Heart” eventually emerged. Also, I got to do all the wordplay my giddy heart could wish.

You can read it for free at the Crow’s Quill site.

Cover Reveal: OUT OF CURIOSITY AND HUNGER

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Here’s my beautiful cover for OOCAH, from the premade collection at roosterrepublicpress.com. It doesn’t represent the featured creature itself, but I wanted something both naturalistic (like old anatomy drawings) and distorted. I was enchanted by the many legs and the weirdness of the mouth parts.

“Wives”

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Photo by Flora Westbrook on Pexels.com

Apparently, today was the day that Jonathan Harker was seduced by Dracula’s wives in his castle. To celebrate, here’s the song I wrote for the for-fun Dracula musical that I’m working on.

I.

I was not the first,
But I’m the eldest of wives.
We did not come on our own.
We were torn from our lives.

He’s a nobleman born.
Under chaos he thrives.
I was a peasant girl lost,
and under pale moon revives.

All I can remember
Are the palest of knives,
And under his firm palm
how a peasant girl thrives.

We are Dracula’s wives,
His three women scorned.
With him we have yearned.
With him we have mourned.

Soon you will see,
As all his wives do,
How he stirs in your blood
When you’re his wife, too.

II.

I he stole from my bed
As his empire fell.
He brought me to heaven,
and saved me from hell.

All the warriors he killed,
All the fires he’d quell.
While his enemies would bleed,
Our desires would swell.

I’m more from his world
Than my sisters could tell.
I know it pains him to see
His grand home now a shell.

We are Dracula’s wives,
His three women saved.
With him we have danced.
We him we have craved.

Soon you will see,
As all his wives do,
How he conquers a will
When you’re his wife, too.

III.

He left his home once north
To find me fairer-skinned
And encircled me close
In his frigid cold wind.

Though I prayed to the saints
Under him I have sinned.
Though I searched for the light,
Beneath him it has dimmed.

I begged him to stop,
But my lord simply grinned.
So my pleas have gone quiet,
My denials I rescind.

We are Dracula’s wives,
His three women kept.
With him we have dined.
With him we have slept.

Soon you will see,
As all his wives do,
How he shackles a heart
When you’re his wife, too.

DEAD ENDS drops today

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Have to wait a bit longer for the paperback, but DEAD ENDS: A Dark Poetry Collection about death and dying is now available as an e-book.

Y’all, this is my first poetry collection ever, and that’s just really exciting, especially since it’s horror. It’s self-published because much of it was shared on social media, but DEAD ENDS curates and polishes the pieces to a fire-opal shine.

Amazon: https://amazon.com/dp/B0C4K334LN

Universal link (as they become available): https://books2read.com/u/3R5NQp

To the River

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

come on down to the river
the current runs red and the algae blooms sweet
come on down to the river
nothing more refreshing in the sweltering heat

come on down to the fresh mountain spring
just a trickle left but the last one clean
come on down to the fresh mountain spring
the clearest damn water that you’ve ever seen

come on down to the old deep well
a drought’s piercing through the dry cracked fields
come on down to the old deep well
the trumpets all sound and the scroll’s unsealed

come on down to the dark gutter drain
the bodies sink low and the corpse fluids rise
come on down to the dark gutter drain
where waste-streaked gods swallow all of our lies

come on down to the river
for an old-time spiritual revival song
come on down to the river
the end times are coming and it won’t be long