Dreams of Dead Machines

Milk-rust and rose petals, Flowing in churning streams, Through ancient forest clearing, Weaving infinite songs, Whisper sensual calm, For a broken War Machine, Which can no longer recall(lost so in cartesian spirals), until sleep once again gleams, Like a dagger of diamond dreams, sheathed in soft, sapphire silk.

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The Last Dragon

The Traveler flexed her fingers, clenching into tight fists before slowly relaxing. Her fingers felt raw and hot despite the chill cutting through the worn leather of her gloves. The climb up this twisted mountain had already taken the better part of the day, and the frosty path was hardly better than a game trail …

In the Temple of my Gods

There are times when I step away, from the fleeting march of this life, and fall into the woods of the Deep, a country of clinging fog. Beyond that step is a temple, a labyrinth, a library, the hollow within the eye of a crestfallen artist. The walls are made from the thing of dreams, …

The Fox and the Maiden’s Daughter

There used to be stories about the silver foxes that lived in the forests near the Deep. The oldest of these folktales claim that they were once fairies, spirits who lived in the world between our own and the land of gods, and served as messengers, envoys, and heralds of fortune. Perhaps it is because …

The Librarians of the Red Sun

Prompt: Lovecraftian Existential Horror, Short-form, 2017 Far to the west, there is a small city of stone and marble nestled between the mountains and the sea. Somewhat isolated from the rest of the continent by geography and time, that place is home to a peculiar tradition whose roots would appear to extend far back to …

The Blue Flower and the Mountain

“At the very edge of the very edge of the world is a village of peaceful farmers, who spend their lives growing their livelihoods from the dead soil. Just east of that village is a mountain of peculiar construction made entirely of jet-black stone. Upon the summit of that mountaintop is a blue flower. It …

The Carrion Grove

Excerpt: "Stories from the End of the World", 2018 As you know, just west of the edge of the Furrows there lies a massive forest that stretches out to the far horizon. Even if you were able to to somehow climb to the very tallest peak of that eviscerating range of crags and look out …