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The Green Serpent

In a dystopian future where the population has been decimated by war and rampant illness memories are harvestable and sold to the highest bidder

One Week Window

In the near future, the police force has been privatized and purchased by a television network. The network has set up a television show, “One Week Window,and the catch is this: if the crime is not solved in a week, it is dropped, both from the show and from the police priority list.

Lexicon of the weird

Stories from "The Lexicon of the Weird" are the twisted tales of a world controlled by the Undead who are in the middle of a shadow war for control over the future of mankind.

Contest!

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A Slam Dunk

Its here! our first published novel!

Thursday, September 25, 2014

The Ware house


            Timeaus’ hands were shaking so badly that he couldn’t keep the desk from rattling beneath them. He pulled them back and pressed them together in his lap, trying to focus on the folder of information that Achan had just set on his desk.
            “How bad is it?”

Monday, September 8, 2014

...into the fire


            Timeaus’ hands were shaking so badly that he couldn’t keep the desk from rattling beneath them. He pulled them back and pressed them together in his lap, trying to focus on the folder of information that Achan had just set on his desk.

            “How bad is it?”

Thursday, August 7, 2014

into the mess


            The order to move out came at two the next morning, and when Christie was shaken roughly awake from where she had dozed off on the backseat of a Humvee, she found herself staring into the familiar, yet unwelcome face of Chevalier. He looked much improved from when she had seen him the night before, but that was a bit like saying that a car wreck looked better with the mangled corpses removed.

Monday, July 28, 2014

and now....


The votes have been tallied and we have our contest winners!
but you'll have to click after the break to see just who they are....

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Origins...


            From where he lay on the ground, Roland could see carrion birds circling, nimble as angels on the evening breeze. His eyes tracked them intently, and, despite the small trickle of blood that ran from the corners of his mouth, he managed a smile.