Writing

A visual addition to my process.

The caravans left our village the morning after the attack. And the forest was back to its dark, comforting silence. Those were some of...

The Spring Festive brought to town groups of people from all corners of the Empire and, more often than not, from outside the Empire....

Our cottage in the woods was exactly what you would expect of a witch’s lair in a fairy tale; dry and fresh plants hanging...

The thing about being transmigrated into the body of a child is that your soul is locked inside the biological body of the child,...

Very Tumbler 2010, but aren't we all spiralling anyway?

Because I keep processing them (the horrors I see) into fiction I keep resisting the outside forces that want me — us — to shut up and take it.

Sometimes life slaps you in the face.

Let's train our craft one small story at a time.