writing
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The God Who Wakes the Worms
They say he comes barefoot, leaving footprints of moss in frost-bitten soil. Not summoned, not born but thawed from beneath the world when the first crocus dares to dream. His name is unpronounceable by clean mouths, but the crows call… Continue reading
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Neither Snow Nor Rain Nor Your Eternal Screams
On the dead-end stretch of Hemlock Circle, the lawns were manicured, the dogs were quiet, and the mailboxes were all sealed with holy water and zip ties. Because of Harold. The mailman. He came every day at 3:33 PM, sharp… Continue reading
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The Epistle of Zarnak
It was found in the crawlspace behind Father Lorenzo’s confessional booth, bound in eel skin and smelling faintly of burnt copper. The Vatican had no record of it. No index matched its glyphs, and the pages whispered to one another… Continue reading
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The Night Unending, Part VI (Finale)
There was no staircase after the top, only absence. Octavius stood on the edge of the Tower of the Night King and stared into a sky that was not sky but memory congealed into black silk. The stars were watching… Continue reading
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The Dandelion Rite
Every spring, just as the dandelions began to blossom, the townsfolk of Gristlethatch performed The Planting. It was tradition, ancient and grim. No one quite remembered how it started—some said it was in the town charter, others blamed the bees—but… Continue reading
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The Night Unending, Part V
He saw it through a break in the storm, just as the fog finally broke its hold: a jagged silhouette against a sky the color of bruised fruit. The tower rose like a wound in the world, forged from obsidian… Continue reading
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Cast No Shadow
Darkness wasn’t a lack of light in Grandma Marla’s house. It was something else. Something present. The first time I noticed it, I was six, chasing a dropped spoon under the dining table. My fingers reached for silver, but touched… Continue reading
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The Night Unending, Part IV
At first, it was just his name that slipped away. He noticed it when he tried to hum a song from his childhood and couldn’t remember the lyrics, then couldn’t remember the tune, then couldn’t remember why it had mattered.… Continue reading
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Fragments, 3.28.25
What is the sound of one scream unheard?Not clapping, not praying—just air vibrating in a vacuum of apathyIf no ear twitches, does it sound like pain or simply … rehearsal?A scream unheard is not a warning. It’s a weather report… Continue reading
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The Night Unending, Part III
He found it by accident, or maybe it found him. He had wandered far past the dead-end paths of the street, where the moon refused to shine, when a glow shimmered in the distance—a pulse of green and blue and… Continue reading
God Is In The Radio 