Here you can find a small selection of my personal writings

These are samples of less developed or in progress works. As I add more to these some of them will be moved to my profesional samples, which is found on my home page.

Devil in the Mirror:

Prologue

I won’t bore you with the long story of my life. I’ll just hit the key points along the way.
            I grew up in a small town, some twenty miles out from the rest of my friends. I didn’t really hate my hometown, but I wasn’t too worried about leaving after high school. I did well enough in school, I wasn’t shooting for valedictorian, so school was never a source of stress for me. I was happy enough at home. I have an older sister and a younger brother.
Junior year of high school was the best year of my life to that point. I had been pursuing my crush for the last couple years and she finally gave me a chance. Her name was Samantha, we had gone to school together since kindergarten and I had been in love with her since sixth grade when we started hanging out. I had to watch her date several guys that never treated her the way she deserved. Of course it doesn’t matter how chivalrous a man is, in the eyes of another also in love with the same girl he will never be worth it. Not to say that they were all jerks or that they were all gentlemen.

The important part is that she finally realized how I had always been there for her and she was ready to hear how I felt. I spilled my guts and she pressed her lips to mine.

We spent all of our free time together. It was the way I had always expected the perfect relationship to be. We promised to spend the rest of our lives together, and the funny thing is that like all new couples we really believed it, not just believed it but lived for it. We were going to be different.

I had been saving up from my job at the local junk yard for the past four years. My dad knew the owner and got me the job. Sam had been waitressing for a couple months before we started dating. We were going to put our money together and move to the city after graduation. My dad didn’t like it. He would have hassled me even more if he hadn’t had to work so much. Mom didn’t like it either, but, like always, mom was much more diplomatic about her objections. Dad and I would usually just get into a fight, throw a few punches at each other before mom and Henry, my little brother, would break us up. I would always storm off and head over to Sam’s for the night.

As much as we didn’t agree with each other then, my dad was always willing to apologize for losing his head, and I’m not the kind to hold a grudge anyway least of all towards my family.

As time passed I ended up in Chicago two years after school. I had spent the extra time at home stocking up on savings so I would have the time to join the police department once we got there. Sam came with me and we were living somewhere in the northern section, I think. I lived there for the next twelve years; Sam left me for a guy named Willy Price four years after we moved. They had three kids; Willy became an alcoholic after losing his job and died of liver failure at the age of thirty-eight. Sam took on two jobs and started looking for someone to help with the kids. It wasn’t until several years later that I found out she had even tried to contact me; unfortunately I had left the city by that point.

How do I know this?

It’s just one of those things you learn along the way.

Anyway, the most important part of my story, in fact the most important part of my life, didn’t happen until I was thirty-two.

And truly, I remember it perfectly…

Arcane Practices:

Lorian felt like his head was on upside down, while someone blew salt into his eyes. Needless to say he could not stand very steadily. In fact he had not yet been able to make it to a standing position. He would have been more inclined to achieve an upright position if not for Eliza’s warm body lying beside him. Part of him felt ashamed for sleeping with the his student, but she had been so loving, so unimaginably sweet that he was at ease in the fact that she had wanted him too.

She stirred ever so slightly as he attempted to rise again. He made it to his feet this time. As he stumbled uneasily to the bathroom he decided that he would have to excuse himself from Master Valas’ birthday celebration next year. After all he wasn’t getting any younger and even at twenty-five hangovers hit him quite a bit harder than they seemed to even a couple years ago.

Nightmare:

So it’s a Friday night and I’m very unhappy, no, not unhappy, foaming at the mouth is a better description, as is blood boiling, annoyed at the world, or being restrained by saran wrap. I like the last one personally.

I had been walking most of the day and it had been hot early in the day. That didn’t make me any more cheery as the weatherman had said high 40’s with a chance of rain. It was low 70’s bright and sunny.

So there I am 72 degrees and I’m wearing a thick coat.

I hate weathermen. If I had seen Tony Cramp, the local guy, that day I would probably have strangled him with my coat sleeve. I can imagine it,
“You said high 40’s!!!”
“H-he-hu, I’m … sor-sorry… the equi-eq-equipment was wrong!”

His face turning the color of a plum as I pull my thick sleeve tighter around his neck. Watching his sweat pool up on my improvised garrote, and wandering if he was perspiring because I was choking him, or if it was a result of the heat.

Regardless it had been hot, by nighttime it got quite a bit cooler again, but it had still been hot. My nerves were running frighteningly low on self-restraint. So low I contemplating stopping by O’Reily’s, and seeing if I could start a good scuffle. I thought better of it though as I passed the bar. The last time I got in a fight there the owner was going to sue me, he died before he made the report, but I’d rather not take my chances again.

Of Light and Shadow:

Near the end of the feast only a small number of guests remained. Only the Representative remained of the three noble attendees. He sat over with Farris and the Cook laughing and joking, much more relaxed than he had been in the beginning. Alastor stared at the plump little man for a while remembering his conversation with him. He could imagine the Representative at home with a young son or daughter on his lap, and them laughing at their father as his mustache rose at the ends as a smile spread across his face. He was affirmed in his wonderings now as he over heard the Representative talking about his sweet little daughter and how she looked just like her mother. Alastor sat over beside Mira and Meice, though Mira was sleeping with her head in her hands. Meice had lit up his pipe about twenty minutes ago and sat now with a very contented look on his face.

“Teacher, what was all of this for?” Alastor turned towards Meice.

“What do you mean?” Meice never even opened his eyes or turned his head.

“This party, the clothes, everything.” He made a general gesture to his surroundings.

“Why, it has all been for you.”

“That doesn’t make sense though, why would all of these people come here for me? Who am I that they would trouble themselves?” For a longtime Alastor had felt there was something about him that Meice knew but had never told him. “Teacher, I know
you’re keeping something from me and I think it’s time I was made privy to this secret.”

Meice looked at him and smiled. “Knowledge cannot be given, it can only be directed,” He got ready to put the pipe back in his mouth but stopped short. “If you want knowledge you will seek it out.” He put the pipe into his mouth, closed his eyes again, and leaned back in the cherry wood chair. Alastor wanted to be upset by Meice’s answer but it had been so exactly what he had expected that he could only smirk in spite of himself. He leaned back also and took survey of the hall. Mira had stirred ever so slightly as she slept. Bastion sat with a group of five younger people sharing with them some piece of sagely advice it had taken him decades to understand. Only one of the youngsters seemed utterly committed to the lecture, the others looked tired and bored. The cook had passed out drunk in the last few minutes, now only Farris and the Representative remained around the open tankard of mead. It took Alastor a couple moments to locate Quinn, but he eventually spotted him standing with a man wrapped in a long black cloak. The man seemed to be doing the talking as Quinn would only nod every now and again in response. Alastor laid his head back and closed his eyes; he was absolutely at ease at that moment. Slowly his exhaustion overtook him and then the only thing he could see was a wide open field and an impossibly gigantic monster he had to fight yet again.

……

Alastor faintly remembered someone shaking him into sluggish coherence before putting his arm over their shoulder, and walking him away from the hall. He awoke the next morning in a room on the third floor. He was still wearing the velvet slacks though his shirt was hanging from the open door of the nearby wardrobe. He rolled out of the bed slowly and stood up even slower. He had a dull ache in his neck from falling asleep in the hard wooden chair. He tilted his head to each side stretching out the muscles, and then he stretched his arms and shook out his hair, the ribbon had also been taken out before putting him to bed. He walked over to the wardrobe to get his shirt, but paused to take a look inside. It wasn’t until he saw the stacks of worn leather trousers and stained cotton shirts that he realized he was in his room, or his old room at least. After training, if he were still conscious, Alastor would bathe and come to this room to get clean clothes. This is where is clothing had always been stored the little hut hadn’t enough space. Taking a moment he couldn’t remember, specifically, the last time he had slept in “his” room. He didn’t let the thought surprise him, though he was still surprised with all the new things that had been taking place since he returned from his training. He decided he should change into something casual and grabbed out a shirt and trousers.

After getting dressed he opened the solid wooden doors and walked out onto the balcony. The sun was just cresting the trees and the shafts of light made the forest look like a black mountain range off in the distance, though the tree line couldn’t be much more than two-hundred yards away. During his training he would awaken at the first changes in light. Usually putting him on the hunt before the sun was fully above the horizon. He thought he would have to start allowing himself to go back to sleep, but staring out at the extravagant hues of the sunrise he decided he could live with rising with the sun. There was some sound over to his left near the front door. He leaned out over the edge barely gripping the railing. Meice stood a few feet away from the door holding the hand of the Representative. Their voices were too soft for Alastor to hear what they were saying. After a couple minutes the Representative turned out towards the carriage that had pulled up from around the side of the mansion. His eye caught sight of Alastor and he stopped to bow. Alastor was going to bow in return but decided it was too impersonal, and truthfully Alastor had come to like this man and his jovial personality. He took a step back before leaping over the balcony using the railing as a vault. He landed smoothly and quickly jogged over to the Representative. His mouth hung open in shock, he couldn’t quite believe what he had just seen and wasn’t really sure if it had happened.

“I’m sorry I must leave so early Lord Alastor, but I was due home last evening and my daughter and wife will be worried.” He shook off his surprise to say what he had wanted. Though he spoke quite slowly.

“I understand I just wanted to bid you farewell face-to-face.” Alastor held out his hand. The Representative took his hand, but after letting out a deep laugh he pulled Alastor toward him and held him in a strong embrace.

After a short time he released Alastor. “I’m glad I got the chance to meet you. You’re a fine young man. I hope my own son turns out so well.”

“With a father like you I’m sure he will. Can I ask you something though?”

“Of course Sir, What is it?”

“I only know you as Representative Fey. Would it be inappropriate for me to ask your actual name?”

“In most matters of state it is most definitely inappropriate, but among friends it is an honor to exchange my name,” He stopped for a moment straightening himself. “I am Maxwell Drake Fey: I am the father of two children and happy steward to the Dezra royal family. I have made known to the royalty my devotion in such a way that I am charged with protecting the family treasure until such time as it is to be passed on. I am honored to have met you, Lord Alastor.” When he had finished he bowed low to Alastor.

“My deeds are not nearly as impressive,” Thinking about it he didn’t even know his family name. “Nonetheless I am Alastor the student of Meice, and I am humbled to have met you Lord Maxwell.” Alastor too bowed low. There was a pause, probably no more than a few seconds, before they stood and the farewell being said Maxwell turned and headed for his carriage.

When the carriage had moved out of sight Alastor turned back to face Meice.
“Did living out in the wilderness turn you into an animal?” He tried to sound firm, but the tone became indifferent when Alastor saw the smile on his face.

Alastor gave a shrug. “No more than owning a sword made me a warrior.”

Meice broke into a hearty laughing spell.

Skin:

I find this world unbearably cold, not in some metaphoric rhetoric, but in a real sensation of terrible searing chill that bites into my body, which by the way is only visible if I want it to be. And this brings me to the drive behind my existence. I can’t stand this cold for long, if I am left in it I need to more or less hibernate, or what people in the past have called ‘killing me.’ To remain in this frigid place I have a habit of ripping someone’s soul out and taking its place. Nothing in all of existence is as warm as that place that the soul inhabits. Once comfortably encapsulated in hot human flesh, I move on to the next instinctual desire scratching at my mind, washing the chill away in a steaming bath of bloody sacrifice.

Oh, now don’t cry. Does this bother you? Disturb you on some animal level of your brain? Or does it arouse some distant barbaric memory?

Of course it does, I mean, you’re only human. You couldn’t possibly come to terms with what I am or what I do. Your simple mind is feeble at best. Look at humans, you kill and destroy in the name of God and Greed. You commit unspeakable evil upon one another, all for selfish desire. And then, just to top it all off, you refer to humanity’s past sins as necessary or uneducated decisions, lapses of conscious, or any other number of whimpering, whining excuses. And why? Because humans, no matter how inclined you are to hate one another, always want to believe the best.

Fools.

I was there and I am here now. I have seen the depth of human depravity, the climb towards the infinite spire of greed over the bodies of the suffering. I have seen selfish cannibals think only of their own survival, not of the sick or wounded, at least not outside of a step to their goals. I have heard the cries of women raped, beaten, and eventually gutted just because they lacked the beauty to make chivalrous men protect them. I have tasted the blood and flesh of men fed to wild beast for the entertainment of kings. I have felt the final convulsions of dying children as angry parents continue to scream and beat them.

I know all of this, because it is these acts that resurrect me.

Every time I die, I drift to a place faraway from this world, quiet, dark, and empty. It is in this place that the most devilish, most disgusting human souls call out to me. Rather they do it knowingly, or simply by being the most uncaring, unsympathetic, pieces of trash they can be. They call me back to life, awakening my bloodlust and my hunger.
The downside you ask. Why should there be a downside? What, because it’s just not fair otherwise. Well, someone must have thought the same thing, because the downside is that souls can only call out to me if they are within a certain distance of my body. Now, immediately you probably feel better, safer even, but why? All humans are capable of unspeakable acts, and humans are taking up more and more space on the planet everyday. It won’t be long before I never sleep again.

The best part about all of this is that even though I can only stay in a body for so long, I have a tendency to begin eating it from the inside out if I am unable to get fresh blood, I have to spend less time out in the cold searching for new host.

Near to my early memories, I remember walking for several days without seeing anyone. Only to die in the wilderness, until some random killer or rapist would try to dispose of their victims nearby.

But, the most interesting part of my story is that I’m alive again, and the world has become even rifer with scum while I slept.

To the Victor:

Prologue

            Contrary to common belief, the children of night were not the result of a man’s personal vendetta against God. Nor was that man even one of us, it was by mere coincidence and misinterpretation that his name became so intrinsic with our history.

No, if one were to think seriously on the matter it should become obvious that a man could not possibly be the originator of a new order of beings. Like all living things we were brought into existence by a woman, for only females are capable of siring life.

Our mother was Kali. A rather fitting name, Kali the blood goddess, the mother of night.
 It is unknown if she adopted this name in respects to the ancient goddess, or if she herself was the figure upon which the deity was created. We speculate that it is the latter as the first record of our presence still date several centuries before humans had begun building even the basest of systems of language. We were able to develop more quickly because of our enhanced senses and nearly infinite lives.

Despite the detailed accounts of many of the pioneers of our kind, there are unfortunately no documents of the Mother’s interaction by that time. She is referred to by name countless times, but all are done in a past tense leading us to believe she was no longer among them. She seems to have guided her children through their infancy, roughly fifteen hundred years, and left them to preserve themselves about two hundred years before the first record.

She has not been heard from since that time, about two million years by this point. Many believe that the Mother never actually left us and simply stays at a distance to watch over her offspring. She has transcended the reality as a living being and become a god to be praised and revered. Of course, if she still lives and we do indeed share the same potent blood, then after such a span she is likely nothing short of a living god.

I wish to bring this information forward to the Thrones, but doubt they will care to have the Mother reduced from her divine image by the knowledge that she actually lived among our ancestors and abandoned them as soon as they began to understand their strength. I respect and appreciate the Mother, but I want to remember her for what she had done, and not for the fables we fabricated.

Order of Archives, 8th Tier
Toilsi of House Kraide, 2nd Researcher
275012 AD