Tag Archives: Other Writing

Bloody Peasants

Thursday, May 3rd, 2012

This is an excerpt from an upcoming Splintered Lands story titled Kingdoms in Conflict. Iudas grumbled when he looked out at the scene before him. It was all just taking too long. Too damn long. “Gather up those bloody peasants!” Hearing his voice becoming annoyed, his men moved faster. They had long ago learned what […]

Bloodaxe is Free!

Friday, April 13th, 2012

Bloodaxe, my Viking-based fantasy short, is free today only through the magic of Kindle Select. It takes place in a northern fantasy kingdom, and the main character is the deposed former ruler of that land. He’s a villain with a wicked sense of humour, and a mum who’s even more skilled than he is, so […]

Speckled Grey

Friday, February 17th, 2012

A land of speckled grey A whisper in the mist A hand of mottled clay A shadow upon the grist A bird at play amongst the skies A figure in the shade A child, one that dies A darkness amidst the glade All these things had clouded round The village for to seek A home, […]

Unexpected Happiness

Friday, February 10th, 2012

Thanks to a couple kind readers, I now have a smile stapled to my face for the rest of the day. I was working away at the day job when a G+ notification email popped up. Not something I usually get, so, hey, figured I’d look. This is what I saw. The summary is question: […]

Speaking Soul

Friday, January 6th, 2012

My soul sat forth, ‘pon my hand and lectured ’bout my goal It spoke of things far away things dreamed in far off lands “Go!”, it said, face all full of fury “Go and find another one, for I am done with thee” And off it went, slipping from my palm I looked around, but …
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One Day

Friday, December 2nd, 2011

I can hear the world reach for me. I can feel it claw at my soul. I can sense it as it runs scaly claws down my back. It will not have me. I could fight. Perhaps. I could resist. It’s a possibility. I could rebel. A failure, certainly. But these are things that take […]

Alone

Thursday, November 17th, 2011

I write nothing, and no one reads my stories.
I make no sound, and no one hears me speak.
I draw no art, and no one sees me paint.
I am alone.

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