God Is In The Radio

writing

  • The Cold Wind Claws

    The cold wind claws and bites within,Rattling bones, stripping pride thinA frozen breath from depths unseen,Encased in shadow, hard and keen Who treads this land of bleak, decayed,When time slips fast and light will fade?The dark god wakes, devours whole,Consuming… Continue reading

    The Cold Wind Claws
  • An Ode to Halloween

    Oh Halloween, how grand you are,With moonlit skies and twinkling stars,A night where shadows dance and sway,And goblins, ghosts, and witches play Through whispered winds and haunted trees,A spooky chill rides on the breeze,Jack-o’-lanterns glow so bright,Casting beams that slice… Continue reading

    An Ode to Halloween
  • The Family In The Attic

    The house on Redfern Lane had always felt too big for Michael Howard. After his wife passed, the creaking halls and wide, empty rooms seemed to stretch on forever, each corner steeped in shadows.  He had thought about selling the… Continue reading

    The Family In The Attic
  • The People Watchers

    Every Saturday at precisely 9:00 a.m., a peculiar group of individuals would gather at Maplewood Park. They called themselves “The People Watchers.”  Led by a bespectacled man named Harold, the group was as committed to their craft as any avid… Continue reading

    The People Watchers
  • Carl’s Late-Night Fright

    It was one of those crisp October nights when the world feels a little off-kilter, like a scene from a dream you can’t shake. Carl didn’t usually go for late-night walks—especially not when the wind had a bite like this—but… Continue reading

    Carl’s Late-Night Fright
  • Why Do We Love To Be Scared?

    Sitting in the dimly lit basement of my grandmother’s South Philadelphia rowhome, my cousin Michael and I sat spellbound as she read aloud from “The Murders in the Rue Morgue.” We were just pre-teens then, often spending weekends at her… Continue reading

    Why Do We Love To Be Scared?
  • The Lady of Sorrows

    In the town of Ashcroft, an ancient cemetery was sprawling and silent, its iron gates rusted from centuries of decay. Beyond those gates, the gravestones jutted against the sky, marking the resting places of the forgotten.  Many whispered of the… Continue reading

    The Lady of Sorrows
  • Waiting to Drown

    I fix my eyes on the swarm—black as night,Summer insects gnawing at the edges of my fading profileThe air tastes of rot, thick with whispers and sweat,While the land beneath me swells like a fevered bruise Deep in the ditches… Continue reading

    Waiting to Drown
  • Ghosts As Symbols Of Unresolved Emotions

    There is a moment when the veil between the past and the present grows thin. At that moment, you feel a chill, a shadow shifting in the periphery of your vision, a whisper carried by the wind that doesn’t belong… Continue reading

    Ghosts As Symbols Of Unresolved Emotions
  • God Is Waiting For Us

    We say God is hidden,But is it we who fail to see?Is She not in your lover’s gaze,In the quiet grace of the setting sun,Or the pale moon’s gentle glow?Does She not whisper in the warmth you feel,In the meal… Continue reading

    God Is Waiting For Us