The Calling



This past week, I’ve been trying to make a list of things that scare me. I think you’d be surprised to know that my list is quite long. I think in order to become a better horror writer I need to have a better understanding of my own fears and why I’m frightened by them.

Lately, I’ve been having dreams where my car drives off a bridge and lands in a river, and I watch the car fill up with water as it sinks. Even in my dreams I save myself however, and allow myself to escape the car and swim to shore. So perhaps in these dreams it’s not just the possibility of death that I fear, but rather the fall. I think the scariest part of these dreams is the moment when the car is flying through the air, just before it hits the water. In these moments I can see the inevitable before me, and it’s horrifying.


I try to remember this when I write. Death is always scariest when you can see it coming plainly before you, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

I’m also scared of Ouija Boards and of having all my teeth pulled out. So I hope you enjoy these pictures of my new Ouija Board (I guess I like to keep things that scare me nearby for inspiration), and the final installment of “The Tooth Fairy.” Thank you for reading.

With Screams and Axes,



The Tooth Fairy (Part 3)

When Daniel got home that evening, he found Jorge there waiting for him. Jorge was sitting on the couch, looking at his phone, with his head resting against one of his hands. When Daniel opened the door and saw him, it felt like maybe this was a ghost or a vision, or he had accidentally traveled back in time to the way things were before. But the pain in his jaw reminded him that this was now, and this was real, and Jorge’s frown told Daniel that he wasn’t here to take him back.

“I still had my key,” Jorge started. “I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to see you.”

“Did you just come to return it?” Daniel asked, wishing he could say all the things he wanted to say, to tell him that he needed him, and that he needed help, that he was scared and alone.

“Yes.” Jorge stood up and put his hands in his pockets. Daniel could tell he was uncomfortable and wondered if a friend or a family member had badgered him into checking up on him. “But I also wanted to see how you were doing. I realize now that it might have been unfair the way I…”

“Left me?” Daniel sat on the couch and reached for the bottle of pills in his jacket pocket.

“Yeah.” Jorge watched Daniel struggle with the lid of the bottle before he took it from him, opened it and handed it back. Their hands touched for a moment, and all Daniel wanted was to take his hand and ask him to stay. But he knew that wasn’t right, and that he’d just make a fool of himself. He dry swallowed 4 aspirin instead. “You look like shit,” Jorge said.

“I feel like shit,” Daniel laughed.

“Is it your wisdom teeth?”

“Among other things.”

“You’ve known for a while that those needed to come out. I’m not sure what you’re waiting for.”

“I can’t afford it. And what’s the fucking point anyway?” Daniel didn’t want to argue with him, he didn’t want to raise his voice and make his head hurt. Maybe he just wanted Jorge to go away and not see him like this; go back to whoever it was he found to replace him.

“Well, it’s your choice to stay in pain and not take care of yourself if you want. I just want to let you know that if you do, that you can’t blame it on me. I know you want to, but you can’t blame all your problems on me.”

“Is that why you’re really here? To let me know that you’re not responsible for this? For me?”

“I guess so.” Jorge took the apartment keys out of his pocket and handed them to Daniel. “Please take care of yourself,” he said and turned to leave. Daniel looked away as he heard the door shut, wanting to say something but having no words. Then he was alone again and things were devastatingly quiet.

Under the kitchen sink, Daniel found a half-full bottle of vodka. He poured some in a glass and drank it straight, swishing it around his mouth before he swallowed, the subtle burn of it comforting his gums. Daniel sat at the kitchen table drinking big gulps of vodka, and resting his head against the smooth wood of the table. Pressing his forehead against the hard surface helped somehow. He gave into the pain and let his head swim in it. He knew that if he tried to stand he would collapse. He could feel the darkness around him. He listened to swishing noises that could have been the blood pumping through his brain or the shuffled steps of something with him in the kitchen. Little whispers tickled his ears, like muffled conversation in the apartment next door. He covered his ears, and tried to steady himself enough to stand; he knew it was time to do something.

Tottering to the bathroom, Daniel retrieved a razor blade from a package under the sink. With blurred vision, Daniel looked into the mirror and opened his mouth wide. He was going to get these god damn teeth out himself.

He barely felt the pain of the razor at first, and the cut he made seemed to relieve pressure somehow. But when his mouth filled with blood, his head began to feel light and he knew his work was done. He couldn’t do this alone.

That’s when he felt someone standing behind him. He turned around slowly, half expecting to see Jorge or maybe an angel of mercy. But instead he saw an extremely tall, skinny man with gray saggy skin, wearing no clothes. The man towered over Daniel and smiled, revealing double rows of needle sharp teeth. Daniel realized that this wasn’t a man at all.

“You shouldn’t do that, my dear,” the Monster said. “May I help you?” Daniel felt the Monster’s arm wrap around him, pulling him closer like they were partners in a waltz. Daniel relaxed into the embrace and let the Monster support his weight. The toothy smile remained fixed, his black eyes reflecting Daniel’s swollen, bloody face.

“Yes,” Daniel answered. “Please help me.”

“Oh, I will,” the Monster said. “What you have here is a delicacy.” And with that the Monster revealed an over-sized pair of silver scissors. Quickly and quietly, he reached into Daniel’s mouth, pulled out his tongue, and in one swift motion snipped it off. “Now that’s out of our way,” the Monster chuckled. He then continued to pull out each of Daniel’s teeth with long, plier-like fingers while Daniel moaned and his eyes rolled back up into his head. After each tooth was extracted, the Monster popped them in his own mouth. Daniel could hear the wrenching sound of the yanking mixed with the sounds of furious crunching. The Monster saved the wisdom teeth for last. After they were pulled and consumed, the Monster carried Daniel to his bed like a baby, and set a phone beside his hand. “Never say I didn’t take care of you, my dear.”



This past week has been a great week for writing. I’ve been feeling very inspired lately. Perhaps now that the weather is getting a little warmer, I’m finally thawing out and shaking off my winter slump.

I feel as though I have a lot to look forward to. I have new ideas and new projects in the works, and so far everything is coming together.

This week, I’ll give you part 2 of The Tooth Fairy as well as some lovely pictures of a monster receiving her dinner.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

With Screams and Axes,



The Tooth Fairy (Part 2)

Daniel was a delivery driver for the United Delivery Service. He clocked in at 8am every morning and helped the warehouse guys load his truck. He never spoke much to the warehouse guys, or to the other drivers. His favorite part of his job was when he was able to pull away with a truck full of packages and head out alone to make his deliveries. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, and he didn’t want them to get to know him. Today, Daniel let the guys finish loading the packages into the back of the truck while he took three aspirin, swallowing them dry. His jaw was killing him. Moving his mouth at all sent throbbing pains up to his temples. He hadn’t been able to eat anything today. All he could manage was a few sips of coffee.

“You okay, man?” Joseph, one of the warehouse guys, asked.

“Mmhm,” Daniel nodded, realizing he probably looked like hell. Daniel got into his truck before Joseph tried to elicit any more conversation from him.

It was a warm, sunny day. Daniel drove through a tree-lined neighborhood at a slow speed, already ahead of schedule. He had his window rolled down, and the cool, fresh breeze against his cheek helped the pain a little. Daniel knew that it was time to go to the doctor, that the wisdom teeth he had felt growing in his jaw were probably infected or something, and that pretending that he was fine was just making it worse. Daniel told himself that his crappy health insurance wasn’t going to cover the costs to get the teeth removed, and that giving in and going to the doctor would make him broke. Maybe the pain was okay; maybe it was good to feel something else.


After delivering an over-sized package to an elderly lady with a huge drooling dog, Daniel came back to his truck to find something strange. The back doors and the driver’s door were all wide open. Daniel knew for certain that he had closed the driver’s door. He walked around the truck to see if someone was playing a trick on him, and hopped up in the back to see if anything was missing. Everything was as it should be. He held his head in his hands and pushed on his cheek bones. The pressure felt nice. It must’ve been me, he thought.

Daniel made sure everything was closed and locked before getting back into the driver’s seat to finish his route. While he was driving down a busy street, he began to hear a banging coming from the back of the truck. He tried to ignore it, but it kept getting louder and more violent, as though something was throwing itself against the sides of the truck. His head was throbbing and the noise was making his hands tremble as he clutched the steering wheel. Daniel pulled over to the side of the road and opened the back of the truck. The passing cars flew by him, the noise of them making a whistling sound that made Daniel’s teeth ache and his vision get spotty. He climbed up into the back of the truck and saw a box in the middle of the floor. There was a dark puddle all around it, like it was leaking something, and the side of it was ripped. Daniel picked up the box and a hot red liquid began to pour out all over him. Then the tape gave, the box flaps popped open, and something tumbled out all over the floor. Daniel bent down to pick one up. It was a large yellow tooth, with twisted roots, like the legs of a horrible, ancient tree. There was teeth and blood everywhere. Daniel cried out and covered his eyes as everything around him went dark.

He came to in the back of the truck, flat on his back. He sat up quickly expecting to find himself lying in a pool of blood and teeth, but found that everything was normal except for a large bump that was beginning to form on the back of his head.  Next to him was an open package that was leaking white packing peanuts. Daniel picked one up and looked at it. Fucking things. Daniel rubbed his eyes and shakily stood up so he could drive himself back to the warehouse and finish for the day.


My Bloody Valentine


Happy Valentines Day my Ghouls! Love and I have been celebrating this holiday with brunch, horror movies, and Thai food. It’s been an amazing day.

This week I’ve been writing up a storm, and I’m hoping to submit two of my stories to horror magazines soon! Of course, competition is fierce and rejection is high, so I’m not getting my hopes up. But I’m excited just to try.


For this week’s photo shoot, I started this project with something completely different in mind, but once I got my hands on this gold, vintage-feeling dress, I was inspired to change everything. I hope you enjoy it!

And for this week’s fiction, I was inspired by a silly little poem I wrote about a tooth-eating monster last week. I enjoy coming up with quick little rhymes. They help me think sometimes. Thank you for reading and I hope you adore the Tooth Fairy as much as I do.

With Screams and Axes,




Daniel had been awake for 42 hours now. He stared at the clock that read 1 a.m., feeling so deliriously tired, yet still awake. There was a dull ache in his jaw, and his eyelids stung every time he closed them. He rolled over to the other side of the bed, and stared up into the darkness. He had never slept on this side of the bed. Now, this side was cold and empty, and he could lie here any time he wanted. This had been Jorge’s side of the bed.

Jorge had left two weeks ago. With little explanation, he had packed a couple of bags and had left the apartment they had shared together for over a year. Daniel’s calls went unanswered, and none of his friends could give him any insight as to why Jorge left. Daniel thought he must have met someone else, someone better than he was. Daniel had been struggling to sleep since Jorge left. Nothing felt right, nothing felt safe, and sleeping would only lead to dreaming; horrible, heart-breaking nightmares.


The pain in his jaw was getting worse. Damn wisdom teeth, Daniel thought as he slowly maneuvered out of bed and groped in the dark, feeling his way to the bathroom. When he got to the medicine cabinet, Daniel looked at his barely there reflection in the bathroom mirror with the lights off. He looked like a dark spirit, a shapeless mass in the darkness. He flicked on the light. In the mirror he saw himself smiling wide, except every single one of his teeth were missing, leaving only bloody, gaping holes where they should have been. Daniel screamed involuntarily and put his hands in his mouth. They were all still there.

He looked in the mirror again and everything was as it should be. He saw a young man with puffy eyes, sallow cheeks and a mouthful of not-quite-white teeth looking back at him. Had he fallen asleep for a moment while he had been standing in the dark? Or had his insomnia now given him the gift of hallucinations on top of everything else? He was too tired, and his mouth hurt too much to give it much more thought. He found the bottle of aspirin in the medicine cabinet, took three pills, and shuffled back to bed. He had to be up for work in a few hours.






It’s been snowing where I live, which has made taking pictures outside a chilly affair. But this week I decided to put on a nice dress and brave the cold.


This past week was a good one for staying inside and writing short stories. I’ve been working on some new pieces that I’m excited to share.


Today I will continue my zombie story, with part 2 of “He Walked.” Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

With Screams and Axes,




He Walked (Part 2)


They had little with them as they traveled: a blanket and some cans of food, and the memories of things they left behind. They camped out in a field with a small group of other refugees. Now they were dirty people, unrecognizable visages of their civilized selves, huddled around a camp fire. They soon discovered that fields were not good places to camp. They were attacked during the night. She ran into the darkness with her husband’s family while the final screams of those they left echoed behind them. After that, they tried to stay amongst the trees where no one could take a step without a noise, and the hush of the birds and an eerie silence would alert them to anyone’s approach. They tested berries and mushrooms in their hesitant mouths, and foraged like squirrels and mice. She thought of him while they ran, while they slept sitting up against the bark of trees, nervous and flighty as deer. She tried to convince herself that this war was like the others. He would face the violence as he always had, people would always kill, but he would always kill them first. In her heart she continued to wait.


He shuffled through the woods. Up ahead there was a small clearing where someone had pitched a tent. Animal carcasses hung from a tree, and pots and pans swung on a line with dingy shirts and socks. A man with a gun slung over his shoulder had his back turned, fiddling with a compass in his hands. He hissed and the man turned around and aimed the gun at him. He advanced and the man fired. The bullet struck him in the arm but did nothing to deter him.  “Wait, stop!” He grasped at the man and when he had him in his arms, began to rip him apart. The man shrieked, the birds hushed, and somewhere off in the distance someone wept. He was frenzied by the killing, but after it passed and the man was dead, he felt nothing. He poked his fingers through what was left of him. He left the corpse to rot in the open air and perhaps be finished by scavengers. It was all he could do.


They began to quarrel. They were lost and turned around. They argued over the correct way to the country home. His sister was injured and ill, and forced them to move slowly and stop often. She thought of abandoning them but couldn’t. It wasn’t her place. His father finally stopped late midday to stare at a road. They had been avoiding roads, which all seemed choked with marauders, murderers and the dead. Emerging from the woods, they saw the road and the father told them to stop.

“I recognize this place. The curve of the road, that tree with the scar across its belly, and that sign; Entering Hunstville…” He struggled to place this memory.

“When were you on this road? Where were you going?” The mother asked trying to help him remember.

“It seems so long ago.”

With the mother’s help, he was able to recall the road and which direction they had to go. On the way, the sister succumbed. She fell and could go no further. They stopped and waited for her to die. She took her time. She managed to pass her illness to her brother. His father bashed his ill son over the head with a branch and then dealt the same to his daughter. The mother shrieked and cried, and his wife had to cover her mouth with the palm of her hand to hush her. They moved on in the morning, his parents older and quiet and her with bite marks on her palm.


He came upon a band of them. Their rags were dirty, and they huddled around their fire close enough to catch their tatters aflame. A skinned raccoon skewered on a stick roasted above the flames, the juices dripped and sizzled as they fell. They had guns close at hand, but they had long run out of ammunition. He wouldn’t have feared them even if they had bullets.  They hadn’t seen him approaching in the darkness with their faces covered in filth. He entered their camp and scattered them. They screamed, and ran helter-skelter into the trees. He was unable to speak to them. They trembled at the sight of him. Their fear moved them as quickly as startled rabbits. He chased after a few, wanting them to wait. But they fled into the darkness, and he lost them. He let them go. He stood in front of their still burning fire and stared into the flames, watching the raccoon flesh burn.  It was all that he could do.


She and his parents found their summer home intact. It was lucky and amazing it hadn’t been ransacked and looted. The house was tucked deep into the countryside and couldn’t be seen from any roads and wasn’t near the highway. They stepped onto the porch and stared at the locked door. It wasn’t kicked in and it wasn’t riddled with bullet holes; it was in perfect condition, like doors had been before. His father took the key from his pocket and fit it into the lock. The door opened easily for the dazed family. First they changed their clothes, and wrapped themselves in blankets from the linen closet to warm their bones. The mother found the key for the pantry in a drawer and sorted out a dinner for them. While they waited, his wife looked at the photos on the mantle. They looked so strange now. She looked at him as a baby and a little boy. His father looked at the pictures of his children and cried with his hand clasping her shoulder too tightly.

“What happened?” he asked her.

“What was always going to happen.”

They decided over dinner that if they intended to stay here they’d have to board the house up and make it more uninviting to whoever may stumble across upon it. They feared being attacked while they slept, lulled to sleep by the false feelings of security a house provided. She thought about him and the things he’d need right away after rejoining them here. She prepared a mental list of things to set aside so she’d be ready, ready and waiting.


His journey took him days, but when he finally arrived home, she was there to meet him. As he stumbled up the long twisting path that led to their house, which had once been a dirt road but was now overgrown with grass and weeds, he let out a loud painful shriek. As if somehow aware he was finally close to where he was meant to be.


She sat at the kitchen table with his mother, drinking tea and feeling bitterness growing inside her.

“What do you think?” His mother asked.


“ Do you think we’re safe here?”

“We’re not safe anywhere. But we have to stay here, there’s no alternative.”


“This is where he’ll come for us.”

Through the slit in the boards nailed to the window she saw a small figure coming up the hill. She left her seat silently, and went onto the porch. From a few yards away she saw him advancing. His walk was a slow stumble and he moaned as he grew near. She stood still, eyes fixed on his figure. He was finally coming home to her, as he promised he would. She had waited patiently and done what had to be done. Now the wait was over, she had no other mission to complete, and neither did he. She was a good wife. His mother yelled from inside the house. She screamed to stay inside, stay away. She ignored her, and ran to greet her love and welcome him home. She met him in the yard, whispering their secrets and offering him her hand. He wrapped his arms around her, groaning and shaking, and she cried his name and his mouth met hers. His grey lips curled around hers and he bit till her tongue became his own.