That haunting and bewitching time of the year is upon us. Crypticon Minneapolis is here, and I'll be there slinging my books and talking about literary horror and all its admirable qualities. Crypticon Minneapolis is sort of the holy grail of horror cons in the Twin Cities, and every year I feel honored and happy to be a part of it.

Your lips are soft, elastic,easy to press. Our tongues collapsingtwo slimy stars colliding, searching for atomsto borrow, breathe, and bend.Your hips are snowy cityscapes. I’ll climb them.We’ll sweat, folded, then sit on our sides,naked, the sheets vandalizedby our oils and skin. Wake up, you still have to travel.Pass them. Leap them. Dodge them.

Daily writing prompt Which relationship has taught you the most about yourself? View all responses A tornado that never seems to disappear. A shadow that never fully forms. A chase with no ending mark. A hall of mirrors expanding, turning, and twisting, so I'm always looking back at myself. Fatherhood is a forest fitted with endless fog and illusions. Sometimes you find the path through the trees.

Free book promo for today and tomorrow. On the Kindle. Free. Get a free book. Get a free good book, with intense and unique monsters from a variety of genres. Today and tomorrow, my book Monsters, Monsters, Everywhere, which is a collection of short stories spanning horror, science fiction, and fantasy is FREE on the Kindle. There are dragons, weird unnamed creatures that feed on emptiness, Selkie's, robots, and much more.

She’s beyond the black eye-socket windowoverlooking the November backyardhalf-dead with drifts of leavessurrounding the empty trunks and rootsa near-abandoned city waiting for the first snowfall. She’ll float to the clear glass pane. It's fog-warped from her ghoulish breath.Her tight, tattered-hood illuminatedwith twin-purple suns for eyes;jewels off some haunted, living sarcophagus. Her voice is ancient-book low and thin…

Well, Day 75 was the dramatic cut-off of sharing my book on my blog. For the last year I've been sharing the Greenland Diaries: Days 1 - 100 on here day by day. I've done this a few times. I decided to end this free preview at Day 75. I won't be sharing anymore days from this novel on my blog.

Hello all, just like the blog title said, I wanted to announce that my speculative fiction poem "The Broken Entrance" was published by Just Keep Up Magazine. I absolutely love this magazine, and I'm honored they would publish my work. You can read that poem right here. Also, explore the rest of this fantastic literary magazine…

My father’s hoarding heartis bending bricks in his garagecreasing the foundation, plunginghis house downward,closer to the pit of povertyhe barely clawed out from. At first, just artifacts and relicsleftovers of his past liferecovered from his dead family.Immortalized in tins, boxes,bins, stacks, and piles in his office,study, backroom, and garages. My mom would whisper to me…

Last night, the illusions were back and flowing through the hot darkness. It’s some sort of phantom train. Their false sounds and fake melodies kept me up most of the night, so I decided to just watch them. I know they're out there waiting for me, to cut me to pieces and empty my skin. I shouldn't dwell on the gore of it all.

My most popular book, and the entry point for my apocalyptic horror series the Greenland Diaries is FREE today and tomorrow on the Kindle. The price is going up soon, so I wanted to throw out this offer. This book series is incredible. The Greenland Diaries follows a bank teller who is working one evening in West Saint Paul when a Drum starts playing in the background.

If you've reading my book Beware the Ills broken down into blog posts for the last year, well, it is all finished. The whole book has been released on here, and you can read it in its entirety. I wrote Beware the Ills almost 15 years ago, and have revised, republished, and rereleased it more times than I can remember.

First off, I have a new book out. The Unnamed: A Collection of Stories from the Greenland Diaries is now available on Amazon and through my Square Store. If you're going to buy it, make it through my Square Store. This is a great way to support me. This is an amazing collection of tales. Over 30 different stories from multiple eras in this apocalyptic horror universe.

No ashes on my doorstep this morning. My dreams were uneven, sweaty, and full of lost images from the pre-drum world. I was staying in a hotel I traveled to when I was ten or eleven. My dad used to work in Honolulu at their mall when I was kid. He'd fly back and forth all the time and stay in a condo by himself with a Japanese VCR and old Star Trek movies.

I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago. He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day. I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.

It was an old memory.In Norway, with unrestrained daylight,and slugs horned and black, wiggling out of the stalksof my great aunt’s garden.Behind her lemon house, with leafy siding,waxy with uncensored sunlight. We’re on the sea for lunch, it is black, fathomless,the inky water clinging to the cliffs.On a patio, the wind is flag-tight, whipping,

Daily writing prompt What’s something you do completely differently from how you were raised? View all responses Reality is coming for you. It hunts. It stalks. Every nightmare hopes for this stamina. No AI model can predict or analyze it. No amount of preparation, training, and toughness can simulate it. No calluses are stout enough for its cuts, rips, and tears.

The old world’s still as powerful as ever in my memories. I think about it every day. Usually, it's the first thought pulling apart my sweaty eyes inside the shed. Ling, my family, the glide of normal cars on sunny pavement, or the sweet sounds of airplanes booming across the sky, all of it feels so distant and gone. Only in my dreams do they still have shapes and lines, and everything else.

Alrighty, it is here. My eyes are pulpy messes from editing, but it is done. My new book is out in all the places. Kindle. Amazon. My Square Store. The Unnamed: A Collection of Stories from the Greenland Diaries is now available in all its monster glory. There are so many stories in this collection from this universe.

The machines are all around us now, giants watching us nearly. He’s stabbing with the cleaver now, and it’s getting harder for me to knock the blade away. I leap between two machines, and the butcher cleaver splits them apart. I guess it was only a temporary wall. The power of pure rage, I can’t contend with it in my withered state.

We’re always on that knuckle of starlight,tucked between life and death,but another scythe was swingingthat adult-edged air whistling,ready to hew and severcartoons, stickers, and action figuresat a sleepover in eighth gradeat Frank Erickson’s house. It was the late 90’s dream,the wonderland was a three-tiered pixel cake.Upstairs, Knights on the Saturn,in the kitchen Mario Kart on the 64,

Daily writing prompt Which fictional world would be the most fun to vacation in? View all responses This question had too many answers, but I had to settle on one that has haunted me throughout my life. Since I first tried Mario Sunshine back in 2009, when my ex-girlfriend's little brother left a GameCube disk of it in my Wii when he came to visit, I have been obsessed with Delfino Plaza.

Gerald was a fool, and I cared for him, but he couldn't listen to me. I've killed and survived these beasts, but he couldn't listen to me. He couldn't give me any credit or any dignity with the situation. It might've been because he was older, and supposedly wiser, but I don't really know. I know I say it all the time, but there are so few of us left in this green, warped world.