Writing

// Bloodstained Prayers (and other stories) //

They meet on a morning of innocence – she skips downtown and whistles a hymn, he languishes where the roaches frolic. She’s wearing her Sunday best; he’s stained from tobacco. She’s sixteen and foolish and happy to be so; he’s old and greasy and covered in grime. He shifts as she passes, upsetting the resident swarm of flies.

A collection of flash-fiction entries that won 1st place in the 2020 Writer Games contest.

// In Defense of Pink Spray-Paint //

She sings while she paints, and sometimes dances, but no one cares because this is the city and you can do what you want in the city. Spray paint? Big deal. Drugs? Fact of life. Wild teenage girl in a plaid tutu bopping out to the Teletubbies theme song?

Alright, maybe that’s not so normal.

// Crimson Gifts //

And the brother? His presence had been replaced with a folded scrap of paper – a letter, still resting on the mantle where he’d carelessly left it all those years ago.

A collection of modern-day adventures featuring the characters from an old WIP, Aeterna. While the world and situations aren’t canon, it’s an ~~angsty and overly-dramatic~~ fun introduction to my characters and their personalities.

{Part 1 — Feral Amusement}

{Part 2 — Common Sense }

{Part 3 — The Catastrophe of Christmas }

{Part 4 — Broken-Down Band}

{Part 5 — The Sound of Silence }

These stories were written when I was a young teenager and aren’t the best quality, but they’re still an entertaining epoch in my beginning years as a writer.

// Chronicles of Plerp //

Many strange things have been known to happen in the Kingdom of Plerp, and the task has fallen to me, Sylvestrus Livingstone Clarencourt the Thirteenth, to write them down for future observation. Let it be stated that I was only chosen for this project because I drew the long straw, and NOT because I have any involvement, direct or otherwise, in the events I am mandated to chronicle.

// More Than a Mastermind //

“Poor fools,” he muttered, bending down to study the pile of notebooks, scrap paper, sticky notes, and ancient runes—carved into extremely authentic stone tablets—that adorned the floor of his evil lair. “They have no idea what’s coming. For I am the dreaded Dread Pen, and all shall fear me in the end.”

// She, Jadis of Charn //

She destroyed the faith of the weak and took the lives of the strong, and with every sword stroke, she cursed His name, and with every curse, she laughed. Let Him dare to defy her; she would strike Him down before He could touch her. So said the Deep Magic.