April 2025
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The Widow of the Crimson Tower
The tower stands where storm winds screamIts stones are drenched in dusk & dreamAnd ivy bleeds along the wallShe waits where shadows drown the gleam Her veil, once white, lies still, forlornA bridal ghost the years have wornShe strokes the… Continue reading
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Fragments, 4.16.25
There’s something quietly sacred about the writer who labors in obscurity. Much has been written about this strange devotion. We know the stories: Kafka dying with his manuscripts unread, Lovecraft’s mythos blooming only after his death. They are not anomalies, but… Continue reading
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The House at Withering Moor
The moor was mist-lashed, brittle with frost, and the clouds hung low and gray like mold on a ceiling. Eliza stood in the high tower window of Withering House, her hands resting on the cold sill, her breath fogging the… Continue reading
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Fragments, 4.15.25
Daily, I veer between moments of aching spiritual hunger and sudden, icy alienation from others, the world, and even myself. It’s as if two entirely different beings take turns steering my soul. Some would blame my bipolar diagnosis; others might… Continue reading
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WP Writing Prompt: Unwinding After a Demanding Day
I’ve had a lot of demanding days lately! Not too long ago, I had a nice, cushy work-from-home job, but I was put on indefinite furlough. Since then, I’ve been working a lot of hours at a cookie shop as… Continue reading
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The Laughter Under the Cypress
An Urban Legend from the Louisiana Bayou They say if you’re out on the water past midnight, when the moon is a pale smear behind the clouds and the mosquitoes grow quiet, you might hear her: Emeline. In the 1800s,… Continue reading
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Eternal Vows in the Catacombs
Beneath the chapel’s silent domeThey pledged their love in crypt & loamBy candle’s flare & shadow’s breathThey swore to conquer time & death Cold stone around them, damp with ageA tomb became their bridal stageTheir whispers curled like smoke through… Continue reading
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The Demon Was Sent
No one saw it arrive. There was no sound, heat, flickering veil, or flame. It simply was where once it had not been: a new wrinkle in the air, a smudge in the pattern of things. The wind shuddered backwards… Continue reading
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Midnight at the Graveyard Gate
The gate began to groan at twelveA breathless hinge from shadow’s shelveMist curled like fingers through the barsClutching dreams & silver stars She came in silence, pale & thinWith candlelight beneath her skinA ghost not bound by death or boneBut… Continue reading
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Fragments, 4.11.25
What road lies beneath no footYet consumes every wanderer whole?It leads nowhereBut none return *** Who speaks with no voiceIs prayed to with no nameAnd sees with no eyesYet is carved in every mind? *** What mouth splits wide with… Continue reading
God Is In The Radio 