Posted in writing

The Voice

-Remember, if you mess this up, it’s on you.  I’m not taking responsibility.

I know that.

-I’ll tell you what I’ll do if something goes wrong. 

-I don’t need to hear it.  Nothing will go wrong.

Even though we’re in this together, you’re the one who wants it more.  If something happens, I’m out for good.  There’s no way I can help you if you can’t help yourself, especially this time.

-If you put it that way, it’s just going to make me more nervous.

You’re the one making yourself nervous.  Don’t get psyched out.

Of course, you’d phrase it like that.  Can we just do this?

I want you to think about how badly you need this.  Believe me, it will take the edge off.  It will calm your nerves.  Think about your goal.  Forget what I said about what might happen to you, but those back at home.  They need that money.

-They need that money.

Nobody has to get hurt.  We just get in and get out.

Why did I have to bring this gun, then?

Sometimes people need to be reminded that you’re serious.  Maybe you were deciding that you were serious yourself.  That fact that you’re here means there’s no backing down now.  Do or die.

Don’t say it like that.  God my heart is beating so fast.

It’s too late.  She’s looking at us.  You need to act now.  Walk up to the window.

“Who are you talking to sir?  Is there anything I can help you with?”

He looked back at the empty bank lobby for a moment, the morning sun glowing in the windows.  Grabbing the pistol in his baggy sweatshirt pocket, he pulled out the handle and flashed it to her.

“I need you to empty your cash drawer for me, now…  Please.”

Posted in Series, writing

The House on the Cliff

 Outland: Chapter 3

I never did find that hatch.  By the time I had dragged my toolbox back, I was too exhausted to go out looking for it.  It’s a shame.  Finding spare parts isn’t really easy.  Finding materials and tools to machine a replacement on this side of the mountains is even harder.  I stretched a tarp over the hole to hopefully block off any debris or such getting in.  Either way, it’s lighter and therefore more efficient.  That’s what I’ll tell myself.

Gulliver had charged up fully that next morning and we set off again. Sitting in the pilot seat, I sat watching the coastline move by me.  The searing sun glared down at me from the center of the sky.

“Gulliver, do you think we’re nearing the equator?  It’s awfully hot.”  I shifted sideways in the seat, pulling myself into the shadow of the windshield.

“Going off our coordinates, we could be there in about a week’s time, Andrew.”

“Excellent.”  I waved my hands through the rays of light being projected on the floor of the cockpit.  “I’m satisfied with this pace.”

After crossing over into the northern hemisphere, we would be one step closer towards island jumping through the Panama region, now a great deal under water.  I’ve heard accounts of the region.  The point where the oceans meet is supposedly beautiful, they said.  Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any other travelers in a while…

The calm sea by our sides, we continued up the coast until the sun had crept up to meet the watery horizon, drawing a bright orange line pointed towards us.  I put up the solar panels to be ready for the next morning, and climbed down to my cabin.  As I took my seat to start transposing the map for the night, I couldn’t help but notice a light out of the side window somewhere down the coast.


“Yes, Andrew?”

“There’s something shining out there.  I’m not imagining it, am I?”  I pondered.

“I would assume not, Andrew.”

“I’ll have to see where it’s coming from tomorrow.  Remind me, could you?”

“I will do that.”

As I continued sketching out the coastline, I couldn’t help taking peeks at the strange light before I eventually nodded off.

The next day, we started moving early.  I kept my gaze focused ahead the whole time, looking for whatever the source might have been.  The wind-bitten cliffs overhanging the beach looked like they had taken a beating the other day from the waves.  Sitting precariously atop one of them, I spotted a grouping of small buildings.  Houses.  It could have been a neighborhood at one point.  A pile of debris at the bottom of the cliffs from various structures that hadn’t made it told me that it probably was no more. Continue reading “The House on the Cliff”

Posted in Deli

Greasy Valentine’s Cards

Are you just now realizing that tomorrow is Valentines Day?  I certainty was just reminded myself.  Don’t worry if you haven’t decided on the words to deliver to your sweetheart tomorrow, I’m here for you.  If you have been able to look past some of my darker writing, there is romance to be found.  Or grease.  Yeah, that’s grease.  So here’s some deli themed love notes you can deliver to that certain special person.

Hey, we’d make a good sandwich.  We go together like ham and cheese.


I want to love you like my favorite part of the chicken- tenderly.  Because chicken tenders.


Not even deli slicers could tear us apart.



You put my heart in a pickle.


I want you to be the meat inside my roll. Maybe let’s not go in this direction.


Posted in writing

Sinking into Skin

“You know I love you, right?” I hear her speak up from behind me.  The voice jars me away from the lines of text inside my book.

“Save it.  I’m in the middle of something right now.”  I move my thumb to my place in the passage and glance sideways at Serina from the chair I had sunken deep into.  She pushes herself away from my seat gracefully, avoiding eye contact.  Her arms are held behind her back, hands grasping onto each other coyly as she slinks around the room.  Tiptoeing away slowly, she acts as if the books on my shelf suddenly catch her interest.

“What are you talking about?”  Serina hums.  “I just want to tell you how much I love you.”

“It’s always the same with you… surprising me like each time you want to do it.  There’s no buildup.”  I replied, sticking my finger between the individual pages to place the book face down on my lap.  The hair on my neck prickles as a gust of wind runs down the chimney and into the room.  The fire wavers and roars back to life, spraying a burst of glowing embers onto the hearth.  Tiny bits of grey ash float down through the air, dancing in the flickering light.

“I guess there’s no fooling you.”  Serina spins on her heel, turning to look at me.  One side of her face is cast in shadow, and I can make out the corners of her lips turn up in a sly smile.

“How many times have we been through this?  Besides, I don’t believe your kind can even feel love, can they not?”  I concede to placing down the book on the rough table besides me, shoving the crystal drinking glass aside.

“Perhaps we do, perhaps we don’t.  We are like you though… we have certain needs.  I’m just fulfilling mine.”  Serina licks her lips, and I grab onto the armrests of the chair, wrestling to rise up from the soft cushion.  The girl daintily twirls around the room like a ballerina, her dark dress catching the air as she moves back to the lounge.  “You’re the one I’ve chosen to do it with.  That’s a privilege, some might say.”

The blood rushes to my head as I get to my feet, and I can feel the room swaying back and forth with each blink of my eyes.  “Who says that?”  I ponder out loud, hefting myself around the chair.  Serina is stretched out on the lounge, bare legs swinging back and forth, casting long slender shadows on the back wall.

“Well… there are others who are simply used, then discarded.  Their existence doesn’t provide anything else than that.   You’re… special.”  Serina explains, as her mouth widens to a devilish smile.  Her silvery teeth gleam behind a pair of supple, ruby lips.

As I hobble to the lounge, Serina shifts to the end, dangling her feet off the edge.  Her knees come together shyly, and her dress drapes down over her alabaster-toned thighs.  I find my own place on the lounge and lay back, pulling my legs to rest on the rough embroidered fabric.

Laying my head back against the firm cushion, I stare up at the ceiling, examining the shadows cast by the hand-carved molding above me.  Serina’s tender hands grab onto my shins, and move upwards.  Glancing down, I spot her obsidian dark hair coming towards me.  Her face pops up from between the wavy bangs hanging down from her forehead, and she makes eye contact.  In the darkness, her pupils widen, focusing on my face.

“Just get this over with.”  I shrug, rolling my head back.

“I thought you would never ask.”  She teases.  I feel her pelvis press into mine, and her arms lean against my chest.  Sucking in a shallow breath, I feel her arms slide down, finding my fingers to intertwine in hers.  Her soft palms caress mine, if only for a moment.

Behind the layers of fabric making up her dress, I can feel her petit breasts pressing into my chest.  My heart beats loud.  She notices, pulling herself back away from me, returning her hand to my torso.  Her hand dances just above where my heart is beating.  I can hear her let out a small, singular laugh and I close my eyes.  Her arms shoot around underneath mine, wrapping around to grab my shoulders from the other side.  Her head shoots forwards and I can feel the strands of hair against my cheek.  Her teeth meet the tender flesh of my neck.

Her fangs sink in.  It doesn’t hurt this time.  It hasn’t for a while now.  It did the first few times she tried it, but even then, the sensation didn’t last long.  I don’t know how to describe it.   Her warm saliva makes contact with my skin, and the bottom set of teeth, flat like normal, occasionally brushe the skin just north of my collar bones.

I can feel her heart beat now.  Her warm, slender body lays on top of mine, unmoving.  Away from the fireplace, the cold air catches up with me, and I wrap my arms around her waist.  She feels tiny, as if I could breaker her if I squeezed too hard, although I know that could never happen.  Serina maintains contact with my neck and doesn’t seem to react otherwise.

The images in my head start to dance, and I can feel a loud thumping in my ears.  Serina’s fingernails, now dug into my shoulders, release.  With a slight moist sound, she pulls away, brushing the long hair out of her face.  I let my arms fall off her waist.

I take a deep breath and catch her gaze.  A small drip of crimson liquid catches at the side of her mouth.  I can see her nostrils flare before she moves her tongue to the side to catch it.  “You taste different.”  Serina announces.  “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”

I peer back at the glass on the table.  The two ice cubes from before had melted almost completely, the tiny remaining chunks shining in the light of the fire.  “To be honest, I didn’t dislike it.”  She announced finally, before turning quickly and leaving the room.  “Goodnight then.”

I breath out deeply, readjusting my collar back up around my neck.  My arms feel heavy, and I can’t bring myself to move off the lounge just yet…

Posted in writing

The Better Person

Hate me.

Hate me so that you can tell yourself that every time I said or did something bad to you, it was because I was a bad person.

Hate me so that those words I said were simply just words.  They weren’t true.  I wasn’t confirming or denying any of your faults or strengths.  They were said because in my mind, they were both the right and the wrong things to say.  They weren’t premeditated to pick at you, rather blurted out because they simply did the job.

Hate me so that the pains you suffered at my hands were simply your body rejecting my malice.

Hate me so that you can find comfort in the fact that you never reciprocated or hit back. Those feelings are your reward for you being the better person.

Hate me, because any energy spent trying to justify any other emotion would be wasted on me.  Follow what you already know, because it is the path of least resistance.

Hate me so you never have to think about the fact that I hate myself.

Posted in writing

The Indirect Effects of War

There you are, everything seeming to have turned out in your favor.  Even though you hadn’t passed your courses through officer training, you made out well enough to be stationed behind the safe walls of the military base, miles away from the front lines.  Man, having parents with lots of money really changes everything, you think to yourself.  You’ll probably never see any real action during your whole tour.  You’re pretty much untouchable.

The only real thing you have to worry about is the General, who also lives there on the base.  You’ve heard that if he catches you acting even the least bit funny, you’ll get to clean the latrines for weeks.  Luckily, you don’t see him around much.  He hides away in his own private barracks, probably spending most of his time pondering strategy, planning out his attacks and counter attacks.  Some say he’s brilliant, but you haven’t the faintest idea of what happens out there on the battlefield, so it doesn’t make a lick of difference.

You do happen to see the General’s daughter every once in a while outside their residence. She has long straight hair, hanging down to her waist in a single shimmer wave of blonde.  The reminds you of a barbie doll, and probably lives like one too.  Somewhere you hear about her losing her mother several years ago, which is why she lives on the base.  The General probably gets her everything she could ever want, so I doubt she minds it in the slightest.

One night, you find yourself on the night patrol inside of the General’s private barracks. Who knows why they require a guard at all times, but the protocol calls for it nonetheless. It’s not like there is anybody within miles who could attack this location, let alone get within the walls of the compound.  You wander the dark halls, hoping for something bad to happen, just enough to break up the monotony.

You jump at the sight of a shadow around the corner.  The one other guard on patrol isn’t even on this floor.  You relax as you see her come into view… the general’s daughter, dressed in a flowery nightgown, on her way back to her room from using the bathroom. The girl nods to you sleepily as you pass each other, and she enters her room down the hall.

You put your patrol on hold while you tiptoe back to her door to find it closed tight. Pressing your ear close to the wood, you can hear nothing but the sound of your breathing, slowly becoming heavier.  You wait a few minutes before reaching for the handle.  It twists easily, and you crack the door open with a barely audible squeak.  You can see the girl laying in bed asleep, draped in the orange glow of the security lights outside.

Moving in closer, you get a good glimpse of her and her room.  It’s very Mattel as you had guessed.  You catch yourself staring at her.  Before you can muster up the strength to pull yourself away, her eyes flick open and they meet yours.  They go wide, and her mouth opens up, ready to scream.  You quickly jump on her, covering her mouth with your hand. She starts to flail, muffled yells coming from behind your hand.  You tell her to stop, but she doesn’t.  After a bit, she does.  The girl is laying there motionless, and you return to your patrol, shutting the girl’s door after you.

The next day, the lieutenant gives an announcement that the General will be taking some time off for personal leave.  You are continuously looking over your shoulder for someone to come interrogate you, but they never do.

A week later, the General hasn’t been heard from.  The lieutenant is giving orders to the front line now.  Another week and you hear the news of a defeat, and the line being pushed for the first time in months.  The next week a similar story is reported.  People begin to talk of having to abandon the base if the enemy gets any closer.

The General doesn’t return, and the newspapers print pictures of towns being evacuated, scared away by the enemy forces on the horizon.  On the next page, the General’s daughter in a tiny coffin, being lowered into the ground.

Posted in Updates, Vlog

The Old Grindstone

You know what’s funny when you really get into editing a story?  Realizing that you have a bad habit while writing, and having to go back and fix all of the mistakes caused by it.  My friend noticed mine while helping me review my manuscript for Mother of Mars; I use a lot of semicolons, most of them being superfluous or just plain wrong.  There was one in that sentence just before that.  That one was on purpose, partially to annoy him if he happens to read this.

Nevertheless I am making progress.  I even have a cover to use for the book, which was made by a cool person on Fiverr.


I also have a fun video of my friend and I making food while trying to edit a few chapters, but I left my camera over at his house.  Until then, here’s the video I made of my recent computer upgrade.