Skip to main content


Showing posts from December, 2017


The Dybbuk, a demon that takes possession of a recently deceased body came into this world, not through the magic of a shaman or any machination of the supernatural. The ancient monster was summoned by engineers, adherents to the faith of technological progress. It was in state of the art laboratories where the dark art of possession was mastered and by people who openly disdained esoteric cultural relics from the infancy of civilization. It was through the machinations of technology that this malicious supernatural force materialized as a nanomachine no larger than a flea. It was no aberration but a creature composed of rare earth metals and silicone. The same malignant shadow growing out from the pit of the human spirit that facilitated the creation of the Dybbuk also ignited the desire to use it and see its effects. Folly begot folly, and the Dybbuk intended for a little-known intelligence officer found its way into a host that gave it the power to unleash apocalyptic consequenc
I got my copy of the Retrospective zine from Palm Sized Press ! It features one of my stories  as well pieces from close to a dozen other authors all in a booklet the size of a cd cover! Remember those things?


The flashlight's beam rested on the white painted wall. Juan gripped the wooden hammer of the sledgehammer. The visor on his gas mask impaired his peripheral vision, so he turned to make sure he was clear to swing. The hammer smashed through the wall, and a plume of dust dispersed through the air. Juan struck several more blows until the hole had turned into a man-sized gash. The flashlight illuminated the rift revealing a hub of piping and wires. "Hey Juan we need your help down here man!" the radio crackled Places die in much the same way as the people who compose them. Growth stalls and begins to give way to decline, then all that's left is to wait for the physical remains to erode into dust under the pressure of times constant and steady current. The place was a town called villa park, a place that, at its peak, supported between thirty-five and forty thousand inhabitants. Still, Villa Park's death hadn't been a gradual process outlined recognizable mil


“Don’t look directly at the light!” This was the repeated warning the soldiers were given before they were loaded up onto flatbeds and driven to a remote patch of desert. There were sandbag covered holes waiting for them. The troopers obediently crouched in their shallow ditches in the sand and waited. They had heard stories about how the flash melted eyeballs and the heat seared the flesh. They saw pictures of shadows imprinted on stone by atomic obscura. The featureless black human outlines were all that remained of the people touched by the light. The desert air was dry but pleasantly mild, and the mood among the men was one of cautious optimism. Some seemed entirely at ease even excited about what they were about to witness while others quietly sat and stared sand. Their heads trained upwards as they watched the trail of white smoke streaking across the unblemished blue sky. The order came and the soldiers squatted in the foxholes. They collectively held their breath and waited