Inventing Interesting People


I love inventing interesting people and then pushing them to their absolute limits – and usually those absolute limits involve homicidal faeries, werewolves, or some other paranormal menace.
–Maggie Stiefvater

(So do we Maggie . . . So do we.)


ABCs Of Horror

This is the official reveal of our working cover:

Screen Shot 2015-05-24 at 12.45.20 PM

And that’s about all else that we can say now. Will it evolve into something else? Possibly.

The whole idea is to make something incredibly ‘grunge-o-matic’, and to make something that looks like it could be a journal multiple people have written in. We have the grunge; not sure about the journal bit.

Rest assured we’re still mostly sane. Sane enough that we’ve started talking about next years project (Sault Ste. Misery), but that’s still a vague conglomeration of muses . . . Back to the ABCs though: we’re still in the process of editing, and now we’re amassing illustrations to display in the book; Jake is working on a mythological beast for each letter of the alphabet (as a chapter cover).

For now, enjoy your Saturday!



Over Ripened Blackberries

She picked up an unsuspecting fruit, and held it between her thumb and index finger. Infinitesimal insects crawled over and around each purple cluster; they were like little flying worms with legs. I’m going to masticate you all in one small bite, she thought offhand. Today was the first time she had noticed them on her fruit. One had been flying around the bowl; she had noticed it while she was working at her desk.

How many of these creatures had she consumed in her lifetime?

How many infinitesimal souls had she destroyed?

Her friends called her quirky. The old ones called her deranged. In her larval state she was capable of simple, paltry, human thoughts. And it was slowly driving her to madness . . . The fruit burst between her fingers.

The infinitesimal worms wriggled in the dark juices, contorting their bodies in agony as they suffocated.


Dear Ezra

Dear Ezra

Ezra, you mesmerize me so!

Ezra you tantalize my soul.

Ezra, have you come to eat me whole?

Have you come with all your hellish power

and beastly appetite, to devour me?

Ezra, don’t you see?

My soul is much too small for you.

My soul is as dead as yours is, too.


More Werewolves

Werewolves are much more common animals than you might think. –Daniel Pinkwater

Werewolves are much more common animals than you might think.
–Daniel Pinkwater



I was downing a spoonful of tomato soup when my dad spoke up.

“Is that him?” he asked me. Looking up, I followed the direction his finger was pointing in. We were at the restaurant to kill a few hours before our show. The him, or it I should say, was someone I had dated once. I say that word tentatively because I was really just playing around . . . Being young and naïve . . . I don’t know what you’d call it. I wasn’t exactly in my right mind at that time.

He didn’t see us, or at least I don’t think he did. The woman he was with looked familiar. What is it with him and going after women who look like his mother? I should add that mother is also tentative. Master or mistress was more the correct term. Keeper would work just fine, too. She also reminded me of someone I knew in high school. Natalie? Or Madelaine?

“I never knew he was bi,” I murmured to myself. What did I care, though?

My dad seemed surprised. “What did you see in that schmuck?”

I shrugged my shoulders. To be honest I couldn’t tell him, because I couldn’t remember a single thing. I don’t think he really had that much of a personality to begin with.

Then again, he wasn’t that much of a human, if you follow me.

That poor girl was in for a rather nasty surprise.

“Oh well, he did you a favor, didn’t he?” That was my dad again.

“You have no idea,” I told him bluntly. “He’s on a whole different plane.” Despite being in the same general area as he was, I wasn’t really bothered that much by it. Thankfully.

That poor girl, I thought to myself again. Then I quickly reminded myself that this city was crawling with his kind. As I downed another spoonful of soup I heard my dad say something about cleaning up the riff-raff. I couldn’t help but smile.


Salamander King

Oh, furious lord of the pit:

Do excuse us for our prejudices

against you and your people.

We are just not compatible with you and your own,

as friends,

or lovers.

Do excuse us of our insolence

towards you and your own.

Knowing full well of our own history,

and how we came to be

it is quite clear why we do what we do in the way that we do.

And this, too:

that we won’t be subjugated to your will.

Simply put, we are not yours.

And yet, still,

you seek to destroy us through all of these absurd methods.

I wonder,

that if we think about them less and less,

you will continue to have any power over us?