“Will it hurt?”The nurse looked up from the digital slate in her hand. Through the clear glass, Lacy could see words scrolling past a static picture of herself. She didn’t need to be able to read them to know what it said. She’d submitted all of the paperwork for this procedure herself. With the steely prompting of her mother of course.

It listed her medical history, recommendations from family that she does this and their testimonies. Funny how she hadn’t been asked to submit her own, but then they didn’t really care about what she thought of her own defects.

“You’ll be sore for a few days where the implant is put in and, as we told your family, there will be some disorientation at first as it learns how your brain works. After the initial adjustment period, you’ll be right as rain. Breath deep now and relax, alright?” The nurse offered a calm smile.

Lacy nodded, looking up at the tiled ceiling and trying to ignore the too loud buzz of the fluorescent lights above her. The static sound grated on her nerves and was physically painful to the point that, as scared as she was, she wished the anesthesia would put her to sleep faster. The plastic face mask covering her mouth and nose had fogged up and with each breath she took, it was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot. She was sweating. She realized it when she tried to get more comfortable, but the plasticy cushion beneath her stuck to her arms. The sensation made her skin crawl.

She didn’t want to be there, wanted to go home, didn’t want this. Her mind was going fuzzy and the corners of her vision were beginning to blur.

“I changed my mind,” she said.

Or had she said it? The nurse had gone back to looking at the slate and didn’t acknowledge her. Lacy tried to turn her head to look at the woman, to try and repeat herself. She couldn’t.

“I changed my mind! I don’t want to do this!”

She was sure her lips moved, but they felt so heavy. Frustration built in her chest, pushed up and got trapped in her throat.

Stop, stop, stop

Her vision swam from the drugs and the tears that had been building in her eyes escaped down the sides of her face.

The sterile white minimalist room began to melt away, the scent of the anesthesia mixing with the room’s stomach-turning scent of bleach and disinfectant. Her surroundings bleed away and blurred.

And then there was nothing.
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Camp Kendall – Short

I recently started using a new social media site called Pillowfort. It’s been pretty great! No, they aren’t paying me to say this, I am just stoked. Why? Well, because the community is pretty great, but also because I started a horror writing group and will be posting weekly writing prompts that I will also be participating in. It is so great having motivation for writing. Not the long form stuff that I have to do by myself, but that quick stuff that lets you flex your writing muscles. That said, here is the short for this weeks prompt which was: “They have no mouths”.


We stood in the middle of the clearing, huddled together and clutching our flashlights. My sneakers were soaked from running through the dew coated grass all night. We were out of breath, dirt covered, and exhausted.

“I don’t see them,” Shelley panted, her voice breaking halfway through as she swallowed down a sob.

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First Acceptance!

I’ve gotten my first acceptance and I’m stoked! My short story Back to the Soil will be in the Second Corona Book of Horror Stories by Corona Books UK. It’ll come out October 1st, though pre-orders will open before then.

It feels a little surreal knowing that after wanting this so badly for so long, I’m going to be legit. I’m getting published!

Waiting Sucks. Moving on.

Don’t let the title make you think I’ve given up on the novella. Buuutttt, waiting to hear back from a publisher is making me way more anxious than I expected. The logical part of me says, “Hey, you only sent it in a couple of weeks ago. Chill.” The anxious mess side is checking my email daily as if that will make things move faster.

So, I plan on starting work on the next book. It’s not at all related of Of His Flesh, which was a stand alone story. Will it be dealing with the same sort of themes? Kinda. I love working with characters who have broken psyches.

However, it needs tons of research. As much as I want to just throw myself into writing this thing, I need to learn a lot about… open heart surgery.

I heard once that a writer is a jack of all trades. We write characters with pools of knowledge that are beyond our own and thus, for a little while, need to become as much of an expert as we can on subjects where our own expertise is so limited. All for the readers.

I can’t count the number of times while reading or watching something that some little detail I know quite a lot about is just off. The immersion is ruined. I know that no piece of writing is ever going to be perfect. I’m not going to get every single detail in a story 100% correct.

But I can get as close as possible.