Wednesday, 30 December 2015

Interviewed by the Amazing Author J.D. Estrada!

Hey everyone,

I was interviewed by the talented J.D. Estrada! Check it out here!

Thanks and take care,


Wednesday, 23 December 2015

Interviewed by the Fantastic Friday Phrases!

Hey everyone,

Check out this interview I did with Friday Phrases, an online flash-fiction community!

Thanks and take care,


Monday, 30 November 2015

The Serpentine King

I bow before my king
Shackles at my wrists
Bindings at my ankles
Weight upon my shoulders
A knight on my left
Another, my right
I glance upon my liege
His crooked crown a halo
To those blinded by a faith
That has long since left me
“Tis treason.
For what is the reason?”
His tongue forks
Between his lips
Like crossroads
Split where action and attrition meet
A shout from the court resounds
Barking dogs from which there is no rout
My jaw clenches
As I see a reptilian ripple agitate his flesh
Longing to shed the man suit
Under his regal robes
“Do you not defend yourself?
Is your guilt found in words so few?”
There’s honey in his hiss
Drenching his prose
In a sweet mead
More than easy to swallow
“My eyes see no illusions,” I say.
“No more sorcery, politics, all of your lies.”
A narrowing of pupils to slits
Yellow, like his belly
Then he roars with laughter
Waving a hand to the side
“What is this of which you speak?
Listen to the prattle of his!”
“You are not our King!

Not even a man,
But a serpent strangling this land!
That is why I aimed to remove your head as you slept.”
The court transforms into a zoo
Filled with asses, bitches, swine, and rat cohorts
The flanking knights howl
Hands warping into paws
Backs bending
Halberds falling
“His admissssssion!” The king stands, fangs exposed
Poison spraying, “In front of my entire kingdom!”
“When did this happen?” I cower before madness
“Animals! Beasts! No better than sheep!
What has become of my free-thinking countrymen?
Where is my liege of Divine Right?”
His skin sloughs away with his garb
A scaled serpentine king ruling over his kin
“Where there is the evil of men
No right is divine
We are but varmints
My, you have been blind.”
My bones shift
As I realize I have plenty of sins of which to atone
Fur covers my simian body
My king is not merciful
He gives the order
And the lupine knights feast like starved men upon a wild beast
Please note: The image is not mine. If someone knows who it belongs to, let me know! Thanks.

Wednesday, 18 November 2015

Withering Undine

She flails under water
Backlit by her own waning light
Her shadow drowning with her
These depths a smothering pitch
She reaches up
Heart aching
Impossible to breathe
Mind racing
She doesn’t remember forgetting to swim
Other memories weigh her down
A cast-iron embrace
Nestling their ear to her bosom
She sinks slowly
Heart breaking
Impossible to breathe
Mind fading
She watches the illumination
Stretch farther away
Arms open in farewell
Hair a black waving fan
She closes her eyes
Heart failing
Impossible to breathe
Mind at last escaping
Note: Photograph is not mine. Couldn't find the original creator. I can give proper credit should someone know and bring them to my attention. Thanks!

Friday, 18 September 2015

Friday Phrases: Collection No. 3: Winter 2014

Another dose of my Friday Phrases!

If you don’t know what Friday Phrases happens to be …

Every Friday, writers (or anyone so inclined) come up with a 140-character or less micro fiction, slap on a FP hashtag, and share it with the Twitterverse. There are weekly themes, however those are optional. The imagination involved is truly limitless. Well, except when it comes to pornography/erotica or promoting your own work. You'll need some other Twitter outlet for that. (But don't worry, there’s a lot!)

Check it out, make some friends, and be thoroughly entertained!

See below for my Winter 2014 Collection!



December 12th, 2014

He exhumes her. His hands sink into the wet sand, tears into the foliage, brushes the grit from her stony eyes. The goddess' idol stirs. #FP

He pulls her in, fantasy embracing a lonesome reality. She sinks into the phantasm, empty and eternally unfulfilled. #FP

She leans against the wall, breath shallow, blood flowing. Vision failing. But she sees him, backlit, taking her fading light. #FP

My reflection crooks a finger. I lean in. It pulls me into the mirror so I can get a good look at myself, fractured & distorted. #FP


December 19th, 2014

He picked at his teeth. It was a bad habit, but was there a better way to dislodge the fresh, sinewy meat of his kill? #FP #ProbablyFloss


January 9th, 2015

He pressed against a back corner of the closet, watching her strip her flesh, muscles, & veins in the boudoir. A skeletal hand beckoned. #FP


January 23rd, 2015

What if it wasn't just a cruel tease? Every brush of skin. Every kiss. Every promise. #FP

It leans forward, looking at me through the layer of ice overtop the lake. I pound against the frozen transparency, screaming bubbles. #FP


February 20th, 2015

It invaded the village, pretending to want the children. What it truly wanted was a hero born of desperate measures. #FP

Flames licked the windows. Hands pounded against the glass, black smoke obscuring their owners. Smokey Bear dropped the matches & ran. #FP

She leaned forward, breath baited, staring into his eyes. "What?" He blinked. She flushed, turning away. "Nothing!" #FP


February 27th, 2015

Exhaustion. He falls to his knees, the sand a hot, dry sea. Squinting, he looks up, knowing the distant salvation he sees is a mirage. #FP


Feel free to check out Fall and Summer 2014!

Spring 2015 will be up shortly.

Thanks and take care!


Monday, 14 September 2015

Chicken Little: Retold Pt. 1

     Farmer Brown’s farm was busy from the crack of dawn to the setting of dusk. The only time it was ever quiet was when the farmer and his family were asleep, so that’s when the animals slept, too. Except for a fluffy yellow chick, that is.
    Chicken Little was wide awake. On fast tiny legs, he waddled to the centre of the yard, looking at the vast black sky, peppered with shimmering dots. The full moon hung heavy against the celestial backdrop, bathing the chick in white light. It was otherworldly. He could almost feel the cosmos resonate within him.
    A star with a bright long tail blazed across the sky and Chicken Little’s feathers ruffled with excitement. The shooting star became larger and brighter, much to his delight. And much to his surprise, it was speeding towards Farmer Brown’s farm.
    He blinked, watching the fiery halo fall to Earth in a peculiar fashion, hovering from side to side, like a boat on the sea. It then stopped mid-air on a dime. Chicken Little tilted his head, confused by the shiny, smooth, and silver appearance of the star. It reminded him of the container Farmer Brown put the horsies in when they had to go somewhere. The old man called it a trailer, but this … wasn’t a trailer.
    From the strange object came a beam of light, red and sinister. It fell upon Bully Woolly snoring in the field. He barely had time to moo in confusion before he was turned inside out. The bull quaked for a moment before popping like a water balloon.
    Chicken Little gasped!
    He turned on his heel and ran into the barn, coming across Henny Penny first. He stirred the old bird from her sleep.
    “Henny Penny! Henny Penny! The sky is falling!” The chick reported.
    The hen sobered. “Have they come?”
    Chicken Little nodded.
    “I’ll find Ducky Lucky.” Henny Penny shook herself awake. “Go to Foxey Loxey.”
    The little chick tore off one way and the hen the other. He made his way to the henhouse, watching a white beam of light send creatures down from the not-trailer. They were tall, much taller than Farmer Brown. Skinnier. With long limbs, giant heads, and large dark, soulless eyes. This did not bode well.
    Chicken Little busted into the henhouse, seeing Foxey Loxey atop the rafters, standing at attention, sleeping birds below. The fox glanced down at the young chick.
    “The sky is falling,” Foxey said simply.
    “Yes, and the others are aware, sir.”
    Foxey nodded. “Let’s join them, shall we?” He hopped down and kneeled, letting the chick onto his back. They bounded into the farmyard, flanked by Henny Penny and Ducky Lucky.
    “Like ol’ times, eh?” Ducky Lucky chortled. “They’ve cloaked their ship, I see. Skins, too. Canna see the bastards!”
    “Language!” chided Henny.
    “Quiet, woman!” The mallard retorted. “This is war!”
    Chicken Little hopped off Foxey’s back. “I last saw them disembarking the ship.”
    Foxey lifted his nose in the air, inhaling. “They’re here!”
    With a crackle of light, a creature de-cloaked. It stared at the farmyard animals with a mixture of curiosity and wickedness, clicking sounds coming from the back of its throat.
    Foxey Loxey took a step forward. “Get off my farm, you Andromedian prick.”
    The alien blinked, pointing at Foxey, clicking louder, talking over its shoulder nervously as if it were addressing others.
    “NOW!” screamed the fox.
    “Yessir!” was the resounding cry.
    Foxey reared back, his muzzle splitting from his jaw. His bones and teeth exploded with growth, furred skin bunching over muscle and sinew as he morphed into a nine-foot-tall bipedal killer. His once fluffy tail split into several slick tentacles, whipping the air.
    Liquid ran down the alien’s leg and that pleased Foxey, for it was too stunned to react to Foxey’s massive jaw at its throat. It slumped once his teeth severed arteries and a thin spinal cord. Foxey’s tentacles whipped around and sank themselves into the gray flesh, siphoning the blood, meat, and bone marrow from within.
    Foxey found an interesting mechanical wristband as he fed. He crushed it, suspecting what the device was for. And he was right.
    The alien’s cohorts de-cloaked in brilliant white light. They were running away, trying to get back to wherever their ship was. But there was nowhere to run. The others were hungry, too.
    Ducky’s green and brown wings had grown enormous.  He cut off the crew of grays, flapping his thirty foot wingspan. A gale full of dirt kept the aliens at bay as they raised their hands up to their sensitive eyes. Where Ducky’s head once was were tentacles, and they grabbed a gray. His chest split open, and he shoved the invader inside. It closed with a crunch, sealing in a shrieking morsel.
    Henny Penny had become plump, tremendous in size, and ostrich-like with five conjoined heads, all with giant razor-sharp beaks. With great speed, she caught up with a gray, every head screeching as they blinded the alien. Ooze wept from gaping wounds as her beaks pulled the gray into her body. She didn’t have feathers anymore. Instead, they too were tentacles, writhing around their meal.
    And then there was Chicken Little. He wasn’t so little anymore. As the others had, he grew, too. His arms and legs were massive, his body brawny and humanoid to make up for the fact he no longer had wings in his true form. He thundered after the final gray, the ground trembling.
    The ship flickered back into existence as the final gray approached it. But it was too late. Chicken Little opened his mammoth beak, tentacles ripping from his throat and extending for the alien. They wrapped around the gray, pulling him in. Once he got close enough, Chicken Little ripped his limbs off one by one to make digestion easier.
    “That’s what you assholes get!” One of Henny’s head spat out a ball of bones.
    Ducky wheezed with laughter. “Couldn’ta said it better m’self!” His talons gripped the side of the ship, and he whirled and whirled, finally releasing the identified flying object. The silver disc warbled out of sight, an interstellar Frisbee to plant in another farmer’s field.
    Foxey nodded, lifting a leg and spraying what remained of the gray he savaged with steaming urine. “We were here first, after all. Good work on watch tonight, Chicken Little.”
    Chicken Little beamed. “Thank you, sir!”
    Then a light illuminated Farmer Brown’s front porch. “What in the hell?!”
    Foxey sighed. “We’ll have to knock him out and place him in the moonshine shack again.”
     This is my introductory installment to this particular series. I aim to do more and make monthly or bi-weekly installments. However, I am fickle and may just decide to hoard all the content for myself until it's done. Leave a comment (if my blog lets you ... thanks, Obama Google) and let me know what you think!
     Below, I have some artwork done by the epically talented Man Dao, who I must thank ceaselessly for his wonderful depiction of Foxey Loxey! Check Man out here!
Thanks and take care!

Monday, 24 August 2015

Danse Macabre

I haven't been sleeping well.
Not lately, at least.
I have this reoccurring dream.
No. Nightmare.
I’m lying in my bed. I open my eyes. Drenched by cold moonlight in the darkness of my room is a figure atop my sheets. It stands at the foot of my bed, tattered white gown hanging on its rotting body. And there are others at its feet.
They’re small; feral, but unlike any animal. They’re graced with a touch of human familiarity, however bleak. They chitter with excitement, eyes red and lips curling. In their claws are chains, which they begin to flick like reins.
And then their slave moves.
At the figure’s wrists and neck are shackles with long trailing chains they pull like marionette strings. The figure sways with gruesome grace, limbs being pulled impossible angles. The dance grows feverish, crazed. It pulls against its shackles, flicking its hair back, and clawing for me.
Its face is a caricature of a woman’s, over-exaggerated and hideous, equally as rotten as its frame. Its eyes are a pitch void reflecting my fear. Her captors slacken the restraints, giggling as she gets closer and closer to me, only to yank her back last minute.
No matter how much I try to move, I can’t. So I watch, eyes wide and heart pounding. Night after night.
But last night the dream was different. Her captors dropped the chains. She fell upon me. Her eyes flicker with something other than the abyss—hope. She tears into me, literally crawling under my skin.
I can move again. I scream and flail.
And finally awaken.
I’m exhausted. But, you know, I’m feeling pretty damn good today. Like I can get up and dance this very second.

Friday, 21 August 2015

Friday Phrases: Collection No. 2: Fall 2014

Another dose of my Friday Phrases!

If you don’t know what Friday Phrases happens to be …
Every Friday, writers (or anyone so inclined) come up with a 140-character or less micro fiction, slap on a FP hashtag, and share it with the Twitterverse. There are weekly themes, however those are optional. The imagination involved is truly limitless. Well, except when it comes to pornography/erotica or promoting your own work. You'll need some other Twitter outlet for that. (But don't worry, there’s a lot!)
Check it out, make some friends, and be thoroughly entertained!
Now see below my Fall 2014 Collection!

September 12th, 2014
Shoes crunched over fallen leaves. She pulled her jacket tighter, trying to ignore the fact the shadow following her wasn't her own. #FP

October 3rd, 2014
"Hey, kid!" The rotund figure crooked a finger from behind a bush. "Yeah, you!" Humpty Dumpty threw open his trench coat, giggled, & fled. #FP
Firm, thick, & ebony. They manhandle the sticky, luscious, & ivory body between them until sweet release. #SexyOreos #FP
Plea-e don't thr-w this note away! It s--nds crazy, but Sam isn't Sam. BELI-VE ME! I saw it kill him, slip on his sk--- #FP
Shy eyes descend to hopeful lips. A cautious lean pulls into an embrace. Breath meets & skin touches for the 1st time, hearts racing. #FP

October 10th, 2014
Strong hands sink into her aching back. She sighs, pleased. The hands then creep to her neck, removing tension forever with a sharp snap. #FP

October 17th, 2014
"Wake up." He lifted her stiff hands to his lips, his breath on her grey skin. She stirred, milky eyes opening to gaze upon her master. #FP
The floor was a trail of torn clothes to the bedroom. Discarded shirts, pants, & socks lead to a mattress weighed down by a teething puppy. #FP
"Done yet?" He leers. She licks salt off the rim of her glass, taps the table. He's dragged under it screaming. "Bottoms up." She toasts. #FP

October 31st, 2014
You can hear it riding the wind when it rattles the glass in the pane. Make no mistake, that's not the wind trying to howl your name. #FP
"Please! Let me in!" She pounds on my door. I look through the peephole. She's bleeding. I rush her in. What foolish trust she has. #FP
Hand around my waist, his mouth to mine. I sink into him, not noticing the paint peel, the floor rotting, or the rising infernal flames. #FP
The black cat weaved through the forest, her mistress' shadow gliding at her paws. The handle was reserved for the shrieking meal tonight. #FP
She swirled the crimson in a fine glass. "Lovely bouquet!" After a sip, she left the body to swing, further letting into its pail. #FP

November 7th, 2014
Marble, cold & inanimate, mimicking humanity when graced by a chisel. Enviable, these statues, life-like without the burden of a soul. #FP
Flushed. Panting. Following waking dreamscapes. Deep-rooted desire making it all that much more real, but still intangible. #FP
Release. There isn't any. I build up, taut; a master pulls my strings tighter. A sweet melody growing increasingly strained until I snap. #FP
She danced at the ball, radiant, full of life. He needed to finally claim that life. Too many missed opportunities, but not tonight. #FP
Runoff sinks me into the earth. Palms & ferns obscure my curvaceous idol form. I was worshipped, now discarded, a goddess left in ruin. #FP
November 14th, 2014
His lips press against her ear. "If you-" She smirks, runs a hand down his thigh. The mugger flinches as a blade slices his femoral artery. #FP
November 21st, 2014
The darkness roiled with a fever-pitch as the sky separated. What descended from the heavens looked like a god. It was anything but. #FP
Salt in the air, wrapping around my tongue as I choke on a scream. I flail, trying to stay above water. Sea wraiths were persistent! #FP
Magnetic, that pull. Consider it a call to fate, a rise to destiny. Follow it. Before it finds you on its own terms. #FP
Ascension, Fingers tracing up my skin. Breath held captive by his touch, Released by his kiss, until made prisoner again. #FP

To see my Summer 2014 Collection, click here.
Thanks for reading and take care!
Get ready for my winter collection!