“[animal revolt]”
Three short lines, one ferocious attack.
Horror Writer & Poet
to the dark, the difficult, and the inexplicable.
A tiny beast swims in yogurt. Cities future-shock overnight. Everything breaks down during a season of harms. In these published pieces, trauma is landscape, isolation brings monsters, and identity is double-edged.
Three short lines, one ferocious attack.
You discover everything around you is falling apart and breaking down. And then, so are you.
Three poems about parents, children, and their fraught relationships.
A teenager finds an unexpected escape from trauma in the garage, and it will haunt him the rest of his life.
A man must hunt down a magical creature in his home before his husband and daughter see it and he loses them forever.
You return home, leaving everything, including your future, behind.
There are some plots of land—real geographic and emotional hotspots—where many awful, occasionally miraculous events have occurred. Traumatic and violent events. Moments of great sacrifice and love.
These locations become saturated with blood, emotion, and ectoplasm that mix together into a consciousness of great emotions, mostly fear and hate, but also a gluttonous desire to again experience peace and love. It cannot wander far. These locations are traps. It has nowhere to go but up into the structures that grow or are built upon that plot.
We call some houses haunted.
To the entities that haunt those houses, we are brilliant lights in the darkness, food, and excruciatingly temporary.
From “ad perficiendum“:
“Everything breaks down. During a season of harms / every disaster looks premeditated.”
What other harms are committed during that terrible season?
Two post-apocalyptic cities. One award-winning science fiction and fantasy magazine.
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