“The beast of the gulch is on the move. It hunts without reason. It kills without eating. Its prey is the sound of a beating heart. Within the shallows of the gulch dwells death.”
Book 9 of The Kingdom’s Disdain is available now!
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth. Special Effects Chest pain Is a constant A wall between myself and the body There is a chronology that I am separated from as I hover Above the flesh, noncommittal Like a prince who can’t make up his mind You’re falling into the water You’re stumbling
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Indentured to you Like smoke to a fire Like the lungs to breath Like all the rot that feeds on The sugars in your blood stream— I knock I stepped forward Hoping to see your crowning glory One last time But all I saw was Miasma Curses Bile and bitterness — I fell backward Into Your
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Creator Journals 2/1/26 Having a bit of a rough time motivating myself lately. I’m getting less rest and less sleep because of my new job. I’ll admit, my last few releases didn’t hit as big as I might have hoped. I still have a lot to learn about the industry. Even after all these years,
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Magic In the palm of my hand as I call up Your image Your preferred diet Sacrifices, rituals, holy texts Your name above all namesBuried in the archives of my address book under an absurd nickname And I forgot you In the land of my fathers Iliad, Odyssey, Epic of Gilgamesh To tire is to
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Creator Journals 1/25/25 Consistency has been a lot harder for me since I started my new job, but I hope to get the hang of it soon. I’ll refrain from making any promises as of yet. But I have been working on something fun. Speaking of fun; January is the season of gaming. So far
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“By fire, water, earth, wind, and the fifth; I, Celestra Livannya, charge these stones with my living self, nay, my very essence.” She stood in the center of the circle and twirled her staff, spinning her body so that the twist at the end of the staff and her eyes aligned with each of the
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Popping blossoms I can see The countryside turning Red As the shadow cast by the standing few becomes Collective, umbral, malignant And in terror I race To the crags and caverns Where no root can grow Only to find Waste Idle days And the low drum of a distant Scream
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Chapter Six: Results The gods of the Sereniad gathered together and they saw that the world was once again filled with darkness. They sent an envoy to the dark gods who explained what had been done, that she had relentlessly chased the dark and given the demons and monsters no place to live. So, the
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