My latest entry to the Labyrinth Creators Journal at The Immortal Artist is the first in a series tackling how dreams may influence our artistic endeavors, and stepping into the world of lucid dreaming. These essays are quick, ten minutes tops, and your mind shall be poked for today. Do catch up and be entertained. I thank you.


Wherein I discuss the nature of art, a writer’s possible schizophrenia, and other everyday concerns. Guest starring Bowie, Sonologyst, Walter Mosley and the edge of sanity.


My latest installment of the Labyrinth Project Creator’s Journal is live now. This one may make you think for a bit, as we all have to face this question eventually. I particularly hope you check this one out.

This is a promo tease for the upcoming Cosmic Horrors project, in which I attempt to narrate some of my story “Assault at Innsmouth” with music by KLOOB and created by Raffaele Pezzella (SONOLYGIST), for Eighth Tower Records.


am on the ground floor of a project coming out of Italy, which will involve the merging of dark fiction with dark audio soundscapes. My story “Assault at Innsmouth” and the work of many other great writers will be involved. This will encompass a print and digital anthology of Cosmic Horrors, as well as an audio book of the works professionally linked with background ambiance. From there who knows where it can lead. All of this through the auspices of Raffaele Pezzella (Sonolygist) at Eighth Tower Records. Go here and listen for an example of the sound work:



At age twenty-one, Rhode Island’s most famous master of the macabre, H. P. Lovecraft, was a high school drop-out; an awkward and emotionally crippled shut-in who wrote all night and slept by day.  His only pleasures came from weaving his own bizarre, fledgling stories and composing his science column for The Providence Journal.  A request to edit a U.S. edition of Bram Stoker’s Dracula emboldens him to investigate Rhode Island’s own vampire legend, Mercy Brown, resulting in a showdown that would forever change the literature of horror!

s he reversed the car, I couldn’t help but look back at the pitch black graveyard.  There was a round, blue orb of light hovering over the area where Mercy Brown was buried.  I didn’t bother alerting Bernie to its presence.  I knew it was there expressly for me.

*     *     *

On the ride home, even after I’d calmed, I could not shake the distinct feeling that we were being followed.  There wasn’t another soul on the road, and I felt silly as I looked behind us for the fifth time. Continue reading

An American businessman’s best friend tags along for an assignment in Ireland, where he encounters a legendary, frightening Banshee.

hey settled into the little cottage the first day.  Todd had company on the second; Billy already had to report to work.  Barclay Fowler, renter of houses and used furniture, was the contact for Todd in Clare, and quite the character.

He was a short, cheerful Irishman with light curly hair and gold spectacles.  He was talking to Todd and fixing a small problem with the peat stove, while, of course, enjoying a few cans of stout.  Annie O’Halloran, a short, cheerful Irishwoman with light curly hair, whom Billy had employed as sometime housekeeper, was also there.  Her 12-year-old boy Shane accompanied her, and Todd let him use his handheld video game.  Annie was busy washing and hanging curtains while the pack of them had a breezy exchange. Continue reading

Published in Issue #7 of Shroud Magazine, The Journal of Dark Fiction and Art

Brooke and Dorian are a golden couple who’ve had all of life’s favor until their car inexplicably breaks down on their return home from the Halloween celebrations in Arkham, Massachusetts.  They would get stuck in creepy Innsmouth in the middle of the night!  Could rumored legends of the transformation of Innsmouth’s seafaring residents be true?  They’re about to encounter some disagreeable denizens in this Lovecraftian assault.

alloween’s lookin’ up.  We’ll take this one inside, won’t we love?” said the older woman.

“Yes Mommy,” said the younger female, who’d been quiet up to now.  She smiled at Brooke as if to say, I’m about to do your boyfriend. Brooke had the silly thought of liking her bracelets. Continue reading

The world was unaware that Edgar Allan Poe had written a sequel to one of his most famous tales of terror, The Cask of Amontillado, until the ghost story was found in the home of one of his erstwhile fiancées, thirty years after his death.

A descendant of Montresor has moved his family into the palace, and the young teenage son is checking the place out.

it was much affected by his parents’ obvious unhappiness.  He tried a new start in the home, attending his lessons and playing with two-year-old Alice.  He had yet to begin his new school –Oh the dread!  On this lazy afternoon he ached for word from the mates he left behind.

The palazzo did hold wonders.  He would again have to create his own amusement.

He bounded off the bed to jaunt about the place.  Kit never got very far.  His overactive imagination precluded venturing toward the dark nooks of fascination.  Nowhere in the vastness could he escape the notion that one was always being watched.  He confined himself to well lit hallways.  After dark, chandeliers emblazoned every room in gilded splendor, but an overcast afternoon set the palazzo in dull gray, allowing one to imagine all sorts of phantoms among the relics. Continue reading

The tiny Puritan settlement of Piety, Massachusetts, in the year 1692. For a solitary practicing witch like Susanna Blood, not the most tolerant atmosphere to live in. But it could be far worse. In the nearby town of Salem, for instance, things are about to get very nasty!

usanna Blood performed her Mabon ritual late that night.  She thanked the Goddess for the bountiful harvest.  She sat cross-legged on the ground and began to concentrate on the point of light from one of her candles.  She breathed deeply in and out, rhythmically.  She imagined herself coming out of her body for an excursion.  She felt the sickening ooze and dimming of her consciousness which always occurred as she started an astral projection.  She knew by now that this was normal and would pass; it used to unnerve her and render the projection unsuccessful.  She began to sense the sludgy, milky feeling that accompanied this magic.

She saw herself put on her coat and walk out her door.  She saw herself move along the stone path, out to the village thoroughfare.  She thought about the Parker kitchen- and was instantly there.  She had to exercise incredible control in these instances as whatever was thought took place immediately.  She moved past the sleeping family toward a small curtained area that had been set up for the baby, to keep the others from infection.  Josiah and Elizabeth were lying awake and a few candles were lit.  They were listening for something. Continue reading