We Wicked Few

You could hear it.

Thumping along the tracks. Churning out noise, cracking along. Rattling wood, bones.


“Sing louder,” I muttered.

They’re coming.

The train—

It’s almost here.

I can feel it rocking the building. A great beast that comes calling. That roars, again and again, every week. Knocking into our shack, demanding to be heard—that it not be ignored.

It’s coming.

Sing louder. Continue reading “We Wicked Few”


The thing about being a Nightwalker is:

You have to face the terror.

Visceral, pounding blood. Bones that crack beneath the weight of too much adrenaline. An impending knowledge that you, among these toothy tombs, are as strong as a twig against a mighty wind.

You are a Nightwalker. One who walks through the dreams of the despairing. Who can clamber up, and down—move among the dwelling horrors of the twilight hour.

A Nightwalker sees a nightmare.

And he can’t look away.

A Nightwalker, in order to survive, must keep moving. Must keep burning. Must keep fighting.

You must face the terror.


Perish. Continue reading “Nightwalker”

Part of the Crop: A Tale of Harvest

Nobody outside of the community would know, because there’d be no way for them to know. This curse is ours, and ours alone. No other land sees the creature—no one else has to fear it like we do. Our ancestors spilt the blood on this land, and this land makes us pay for it.


And over.

And over again.

Every year.

When the crops rise, and the harvest moon peaks its bleary eyes out over the night sky, we know.

It’s almost time. Continue reading “Part of the Crop: A Tale of Harvest”

Sticky Situation

Honestly, I hated this. Every moment of it.


You have to do what you have to do. Especially when what you have to do is stop yourself from killing others.


Being a Werewolf 101:

You go crazy on full moons. Whether you want to or not, and you’ll probably end up killing someone.

Being a Werewolf 102, though:

Witches can help.

They’re a pain in the ass, and they’re crazy, and mostly smell like moss and stinky cheese.


They can help.

You just have to live long enough to get the help, that’s all. Continue reading “Sticky Situation”

Friday the 13th Tag (I know, I know, that’s not the date anymore)

This is so fun!

I love when britchy tags me in these. They’re so cool.

So, as per usual:


And, if you haven’t checked out her blog yet, do that. She’s extremely hilarious, and has oodles of fun, even in her pieces that are less humorous and more thoughtful. She’s always worth a read.

Now, onto the fun part:

QUESTIONS AND RULES Continue reading “Friday the 13th Tag (I know, I know, that’s not the date anymore)”

Monstrous Answers

A monster walks through the forest.

His antlers brush against branches. The darkness cloaks him in kind favors. The moon highlights his skull, hitting the red of his eyes, making them glow.

A monster walks through the forest.

His home.

His feet leave no marks, he can’t afford them to. The long, jagged, torn tail that trails behind him looks like a shadow’s spine. Teeth dangle from his bangles, his anklets. Pieces of forgotten creatures, long since dead.

A monster walks through the forest.

And as he does, he must come to a stop.

There is another creature here.

One that is forgotten.

But not dead.

Not by a long shot. Continue reading “Monstrous Answers”

Gator in Waiting

When I was a kid, I would sit at the bottom of the swimming pool.

I would lie down, belly rubbing against the coarse cement. I would lie down, and I would see how long I could stay there. How long I could hold my breath. How long my crinkle-cut fingers could hold to the spaces of rough ridges. How long I could keep gripping to the bottom of the pool.

How long my ears could hold the silence.


That silence…

I drank it in.

Ate it up.

If I had thought I could consume that silence, I would’ve surely tried.

I’d have drowned straight away.

It was so comforting.

Too comforting.

Like walking into a restaurant in the throes of summer. The heat immediately eviscerated by the cool AC.

That’s what the silence was for me.

I wanted to gorge on it for forever.

Belly against the bottom of the pool, water-logged silence filling my ears, I felt like I understood why the gators liked to sit there. Figured I knew their motives.

In all honesty, I do, occasionally, get things wrong. Continue reading “Gator in Waiting”

Of Monstrous Mind

There’s a lot of unknowns in this world. A lot of things that you’ll never be able to grasp, to understand.

But it really sucks when the thing you don’t know—the knowledge that’s most out of reach—is knowing who to trust.

Talk about complicated… Continue reading “Of Monstrous Mind”

Hopeless Hallway

There is a clock, ticking, somewhere in your mind. And there is a hallway, split at the end, with that clock looming in between the paths you can take.

The hallway to one side is dark.

The other is lit.

Which path do you take?

How will it impact you?

Let me tell you a secret:

It doesn’t matter.

I don’t care.

Either way will lead you to me.

And that’s all I want. Continue reading “Hopeless Hallway”

Tiger Chase

There are two types of chases.

The first is the most common. Where you’re running away from something that’s running at you. Both of you are giving it your all because you just might get away, and your pursuer doesn’t want that. You both are completely aware that there’s a chance for you, the runner. The one fleeing. Because the pursuer can’t go on forever. Eventually, they’ll slow down. And, eventually, they’ll fall so far behind, they won’t be able to catch you.

That’s the sort of chase dogs give. Or humans.

It’s the more common form of chase because it holds more truth to it. Generally speaking, neither pursuer nor pursued can continue forever. And, just because they’re pursuing, doesn’t mean that they’re unstoppable.

At least, that’s generally true.

But not when it comes to the second form of chase.

Having someone run at you full speed, with everything they have, is intimidating. Scary. But it’s even worse when they don’t give it their all. When they don’t run.

When your pursuer walks.

That’s the second form. The scariest form.

Because, your pursuer isn’t walking for no reason. They’re not walking because they can’t run. They’re walking because they’re confident. They know.

It doesn’t matter.

If you run, and if they run, it’s pointless. Useless.

Because they know that, in the end, they’ll catch you.

They’ll catch you.

This second form of being chased is far more terrifying. It causes panic. You feel claustrophobic because you know that the walls are closing in. That, no matter where you turn, it’s just another corner, another snag that brings your pursuer closer.

It’s the type of chase that fires give. That storms give. That tigers give.

Only the fiercest of hunters pursue this way.

And, as I run, I know it in my bones:

You’re not like a dog. Not like a human.

I see your tiger eyes. Your slow walk.

And I know.

You’ll catch me. Continue reading “Tiger Chase”