I've been a writer since I was a child. I had my first story published in 2019 in a short horror story collection and I've been working to expand my horizons since then. My primary interests are horror and fantasy.
The Mourning Hall
The stench was the worst part, it hung thick amongst the desiccated remains and the hollow eyes, it was the stench of meat that had been defiled so fully that rot couldn’t touch them. Anterion wrapped a tight gauntleted fist around the hilt of his blade, letting it rest within his grasp to comfort him as he averted his eyes from the Forsaken, those broken, gurgling shells that reached for him, fingers gliding over his silver armour unable to grasp, unable to hold. Robbed of all strength, of all light and passion and grace.
The Last Void Song and the Evolution of Interactive Entertainment
Where to begin with this project?! I suppose with the name? The Last Void-Song is a series of novels set in a not so distant future about a young man who is thrust into a universe of horror and magic and sci fi beyond his wildest dreams, the books are about the responsibilities of leadership, of fatherhood. It’s about the corrupting influence of power and the horrors of isolation, the ruin of hate and sorrow upon the soul but more than anything else, The Last Void-Song is about humanity. It’s about who we might be in our darkest moments, when we have nothing else but each other and the need to survive, to keep on going despite unimaginable hardship. In a way, The Last Void-Song has been my confession. It’s my measure of how far I’ve come from a time where I did not think I would get very far at all. The shining worlds and fathomless depths of the Void-Song universe allowed me to escape the troubles and torments of my life and my dwindling mental health and just be somewhere else for a time. Which, maybe explains why it’s about 13 multiverses wide at this stage. (I always go big)
The LGBTQA+, the Liberation of Love and Rejection of the Binary.
There is a belief, one that has proven particularly intransigent despite the amazing progress of the LGBTQA+ movement, among humans both straight and otherwise that LGBTQA+ love is somehow different from straight love. I want to analyse this belief, refute it and also lay out what I see as the final outcome of our movement for as much as Pride is a celebration of our right to exist, of our staunch defiance of bigotry and intolerance it is also a movement. A movement hellbent on "Making Love Great Again." From Stonewall to The Equal Marriage rights passed in some countries recently we have achieved so much but still have SO MUCH further to go. Where are we going? In my opinion, a place better than we've ever dreamed of!
Skyrim: Immortality Through Creativity
The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim is gearing up for its 10th birthday this year. In a market dominated by triple-A multiplayer titles from Overwatch to Fortnite to a myriad of Call of Duty and Halo sequels and spin offs it’s quite spectacular to imagine a single player RPG from 2011 is still going strong and is even relevant within the spheres of gaming discussion and news and yet even before the announcement of TES VI, Skyrim’s direct sequel, the game still enjoyed an enduring cultural relevance that stands tall to this day. How? What makes Skyrim so different to other single player titles that enjoy a far more limited shelf life in comparison to the trend of live service games? The answer, I believe, is a perfect storm of accessible beginner level RPG creative freedom and the unstoppable creative Juggernaut that is the Skyrim modding community.
The Second Sin: Part One
It didn’t look like a building, that was the first thing Chris thought. Bricks and mortar were scattered, shattered and worn and over their battered form a jagged, ragged, metal spear rose sharply to meet the dawn. The frame of the building had remained intact, though its brick-lain facade had crumbled to ruin. It had stood that way for years upon years, growing more ruinous but never fading from memory. A ghost of the building lived on, clothed in the horrors it once housed within its sagging belly that its defiant walls alone recall. Time had tried to bury it with rain and wind alone as no growing thing would touch it, despite its age and despite its location no green or flowering life blossomed between the cracks in the well worn concrete. Nothing grew. Nothing lived. The factory stood in its grave, rotting alive, refusing to die entombed with secrets that no waking mind should hope to find. The Belle Factory craned its warped head above the trees and grinned a crooked smile of broken steel as new life approached it again. The only life foolish enough to do so.
The First House
The tears came in tandem with the stinging of the wound, the frantic fumbling of fester-some fingers upon the ragged jagged edge prompting it to shriek! Eric prodded at it with his tissue, whimpering as the ugly snarl of his own flesh defied him, screamed at him in a voice of sharp and shooting scorn! Yet, as he fidgeted with his wound, his mortality leaking over his young fingers, nothing unsettled him more than the deafening absence of the room before him. The room yawned and stretched and creaked like something waking. Something so impossibly old and so impossibly inhuman. Whatever fate he had avoided by entering this house, he wondered if it was perhaps preferable to spending another second in the oppression of its maw. Walls that had from the outside seemed small enough simply to hide him from his pursuers now had seemingly swallowed him whole. They towered and tunneled into the oppressive dark, arching over one another, framing him beneath a blanket of shadows that rested upon the dark wood floor like slumbering beasts. Eric stumbled to his feet and gasped a ragged breath, though no stranger to running he was not best suited to the exertion.