A child born in a dystopia produces strange and terrible results. More of a micro-fiction than short story.

Photo credit: @pookadook

Lucy goes for a follow-up after weird bloodwork results.

The photo is creepy but it is not a horror story.

Photo credit: @scottrodgerson

I’ve been busy with submissions and workshopping so here’s an idea that’s refused to leave but doesn’t fit in with any themes.

(Photo credit: Mark Fletcher-Brown @markfb)

The thrilling conclusion to the “Boogeyman” hosts a lot of smells and concise world building, if I went too ham it wouldn’t feel like a short story.

Photo credit: @id23

[“I haven’t been sleeping,” I say to the women across from me. I stare intently at her eyes knowing if I don’t I’ll see it out of the corner of my eye. Lingering. ]

Photo credit: @julianmokzth

A small appreciation to fall in the form of a poem-ish.

A girl’s camping trip into the woods to start off the Fall season!

Photo credit to @tonibenlliure

You ever think about the state of the world and write a sad poem about it?

Tila the Legendary Hero, famed for her greatness and her feats in strength, wants to take a vacation.

(photo credit to @michalmatlon

Photo credit: Martin Martz @martz90

This is a small poetry collection features loneliness/desolation. It will most likely be added to in the future.

Part 2 to the “Otherworldlies” wherein Duck takes a walk and meets a friend in a weird shape.

There is a hidden warehouse which deals with -mancers or otherworldlies who manipulate people and the world, a bookkeeper is tasked to find one despite lacking the training. Follow Duck as they try.

Milo tries.

Darlene hasn’t been well but Rebecca Sternly understands her, even if she doesn’t believe her.

My attempt at a screenplay. An adult returns to a childhood summerhouse—which scarred them, though they can no longer put a face to the entity which chased them out of the house—to put a face to the memories.

A little poem to start off November!

The shutter of the viewmaster matches the closing of my eyes, a terrible was to view memories. Rapid and without context, only a still in time.

A letter from a student of Alchemy to the Headmistress.

It has been a bit since I’ve worked on my blog, so I thought why not try WIP?

A thrilling tale about an abandoned child who was taught to never be weak.