You could only catch them by summer moonlight. Souls, that is. Something…
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The Low God
Mud clung to Lira’s shins, a grasping thickness that pawed at her…
The Obsidian Psalm Teaser
Epigraph This narrative begins with the death of its hero. -Ambrose Bierce,…
The Night Before Cordmas
“It’s moral extortion,” Cord said, apropos of nothing. I groaned inwardly. We’d…
In A Wood In Winter
In a wood in winter, in a cabin at the end of…
Of Salt and Promises
The city stood on a hill, cut into the white stone in…
A Hanging
Anders listened to the creak of the boards on the wagon, and…
Muse
This is the last of my published work to date, a short…
Resurrection
The dead came back, not in a rush of sudden horror or…