An excerpt.

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A character study of a cypher.

This is another extract from the aforementioned long-form piece, almost a short story in its own right.

A brief excerpt.

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I have mentioned in passing that I am writing a kind of long-form fiction piece—not a "novel," but something vaguely like it.

This is a very small extract.

A Poem

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Perhaps it is a problem Of repressed impulse An unresolved tendency Towards The worst in one's self Manifesting Live and writhing In one's daily actions First subtly Then wholly

A Surreal Short Fiction

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Morgan Duvall gaped at the odd scene, his face contorted. He had attempted to repress his astonishment and disgust with his usual detachment, but for some reason he was unable to do so. Normally such arthouse pieces did nothing more than numb him. But this time, he was not only numbed,...

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A black comedy of sorts.

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...she entered a cramped, sparsely furnished chamber. Here, only an ornate Persian carpet, a small armchair, and an antique mirror were to be seen. "What a strange little room," she thought. She looked around, somewhat slowly, leaning to look into the mirror. Only her own reflection,...

Two Vignettes

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"That's the signature of my love for you. You can't forget me without losing yourself. I'll never die..." -Michael Gira, "Your Game" I am walking down the street in broad daylight. People pass me and do not notice me. O, great city, your apathy feeds my need for...

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The first is entitled "Specimen", the second is "Two Figures".

A Vignette

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A pile of yellowed papers on a desk. Maurits Van't Hoff, musician, age 38, lying dead on the floor of his apartment. In sleep, not to awake. His pale form lays stretched upon the carpet of his one-room dwelling, his mouth open with a small trickle of drool from its corner, now dried yellow,...

Surreal, febrile, monstrous. Deserves mention.

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The surroundings here seem familiar. A street corner, neon lights in dark, empty windows, bright streetlights casting long, dramatic shadows of close detail. A restaurant of mild acclaim, a theatre marquee with peculiar, independent films advertised, and a row of shops, quaint but of...

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Those who enjoy the Mythos will like this.

A Vignette

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You are wandering through a vast, nameless desert. Nameless to you at least; You care not to know the name of things that aggrievate you. And grief seems a proper emotion: You have no past, no memory, and probably no future. The desert seems endless. And then you encounter the heretic. ...

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Article updated by The Silent One

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A Short Story

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A Prose Poem

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A Vignette