The radio didn’t work. The moment the Drum started, I was listening for it against the flimsy wall, waiting for it to come downstairs. At first there was nothing, just the distant thunder of the Drum. Then I heard it. There was a scuttling sound on the ceiling. A heaviness followed, and the stairs suddenly thudded in the darkness. I watched it drift inside my basement like an armored cloud.

For the month of January, I'll be giving away the first three books in my popular, post apocalyptic horror series the Greenland Diaries. Perfect time to jump into it. The have fantastic monsters, a raw found journal voice, and tons of suspense. FREE on the Kindle today through Monday. Links and descriptions below: "It began with a drum. Then the monsters came.

I haven’t been this far back in the Shingles for years. Behind me the mountains split and open to the Diamond Town. The Shingles were built just outside the mountain's narrowest opening. If invaders broke through the Shingles, they had to come through a narrow mountain path before they’d even see the Diamond Town. For years, they’d build wall after wall, line after line, to keep the outlanders from entering the mountain valley.

For my sunlight,its glass cut through a concrete wallthe edges crumbled and rocky,like an unfinished birthday cake.No place for symmetry or neatnesswhen testing and receivingnetworking equipment with a candelabra of cords.The whir of fans, hard drives,circuit boards, modules, and power suppliesare their own orchestra. I’m their repeating crowd for this ensemble…

I’ve come back to the wall. I couldn’t take another night in that closet. I know it’s out there waiting for me to breathe wrong, or to stumble. I wonder if it knows how close it is to me. It could stab into this paper-thin barrier and skewer me with little effort. It could never move, and just leave me back here to die, and Snowy would be under Gerald’s care.

Only seconds pass, and Haukter’s curled beneath their stabbing mob. A low adolescent and unused scream split the air. He doesn’t have a man’s throat yet. I’m glad to see not everything has been hidden away by those animal leathers. Haukter bursts into the air leaving behind a swarm of stabbing soldiers. Arrows follow the empty air and stop abruptly. Screaming and yelling follow the swarm of men, as they watch Haukter attach himself to a tree with his claw.

First update of 2026! Wow, hard to believe we're already in this year. I can't believe it. The last year went by so quickly with everything. Happy to be approaching some big events coming up. More details forthcoming. Had a good last week with two literary magazines accepting some of my work. Both acceptances in a 24 hour period. Really made me feel good.

It’s hard to believe that an empty piece of foundation behind some paper thin 70’s décor would be more comfortable than a closet. Well, it was. In fact, my little basement hiding spot was much cozier than this small wooden cell I slept in last night. The heavy heat was ridiculous inside the closet. Snowy wheezed nearly the entire night. I went through a couple bottles of water.

Haukter swings the rod upwards in a blurred swing, letting loose another string of darks into the troop’s gawking faces. Tongues, eyes, and mouths are skewered by the long darts. Men gurgle and fall, twisting around as their skin swells. They’re all dead and dying, the entire formation of troops. There had to be twenty of them. I’m impressed. Haukter runs past the writhing clump, and towards the woman’s tent at the end of camp.

Nigel couldn’t believe his beard had gotten this long. It was down to his chest, tangled and frizzy. It was black, but almost brown at its feathery edges. He could hear his father yelling at him to trim it, his high, almost husky voice echoing in his head. His father was ex military. He loved the clean shaven look and forced Nigel to follow that hairless motif, even though Nigel hadn’t picked up a weapon until the Drum started.

My nights of “peace” have abruptly become nightmarish and anxious. Last night, knowing one of them was out there, I could barely breathe behind the wall. The entire time, I clutched my gun in my shaking hands. The safety was even off, like I couldn’t have one rational thought separating me from firing blindly through the wall. If I did manage to kill the one outside my hiding spot, many more would hear the shots.

The commander, the one with the spear, sits outside the folded entrance of the tent. The spear leans casually against his right shoulder, and the black-hooked end slightly rubs against the white cloth. His withered face has been repaired from our earlier bout. Strips of white paper cover the right size of his face. He looks comical and plastic. I assume he feels that way.

Rob had memorized the pattern of abandoned cars in the parking lot outside the building. A red van, a blue truck, a few white sedans, silent and sun faded, lay scattered across the velvet sheet of greenery in the basin around the office tower he’d been hiding in. He’d been fixing a boiler in the basement when the Drum began. Most of the building was empty that first night.

There have been countless times in my pre-drum life where I’ve had ambitious plans all worked out. The moment I’ve acted with this strategy, something small and insignificant has thrown me off track. Well, at least this time I’m very legitimate in my hesitation. I’ve become obsessed with the monsters, beasts, or demons that have been hunting us nightly. Last night, since things have been quiet, I decided to try and explore, and at the very least observe the night.

I knew both would live. I knew it. The captain, the mutilated and ugly captain, underestimated me on the airship. He won’t be doing that again. He bled for that mistake, and he’ll bleed again. It must be humiliating for him to still be alive, especially in the eyes of his men. The berserker, she was incredible. I’ve never encountered anyone quite like her, especially one who can match my strength so elegantly.

Hey everyone, just wanted to get on here and share a little update about what I've been doing with my writing. I hope everyone has had a good holiday season. Thank you all for your continued support. These are all the things I'm working on in some capacity or another. Ugh. This is an exhausting journey. My next self-publish project will be something new and different for me.

The rain and thunder stopped abruptly last night. The Drum appeared quickly and deliberately, like it was jealous of the clout the storm was carrying. My chest became a little heavy when just the Drum hammered the shadows. The rain was a nice reprieve. I’ve been worried about my thoughts recently, or my overall state-of-mind. I’ve been thinking far too much about the monsters.

She gawks at the stuck blade. I smash my shoulder into her and knock her backwards. The edge of my shoulder’s armor cuts her somewhere. I can smell the electric blood. She doesn’t move. She’s a living pillar. I hit her again with my left hand, letting the gauntlet connect with her stomach. Some skin is torn from her abdomen. I can see it on my arm.

Recently, I did an interview for the podcast Total Conundrum. I talked about a variety of things with my writing, monsters, and the connections life built between them all. Big thank you to Total Conundrum for hosting me and creating a nice list of insightful questions for me to answer. That always helps me with this sort of thing. …

Last night, I woke up to the most amazing sound. There was rain. The falling water echoed hard enough to block out the Drum. The sound was soothing and extravagant, like my mind was on vacation for a night. It felt so good not to hear the murderous beat, but real, natural thunder. My dog hates thunderstorms. She instantly started to whine.

We're back to Leave the Name in the free kindle book rotation. This is an excellent short story collection. It contains bits and pieces from my other universes, along with some unique narratives like Factory 9, which I will turn into a full length novel at some point. Science fiction, fantasy, horror, it is all here for your enjoyment. …

“Blue,” I yell suddenly over the din. He smiles at me. He’s been sitting on the rail casually with his massive feet, watching the living fireworks. The blood has frosted in wild shapes against his matted fur. Gears roar absently as they try to find guidance. “Engage her, engage her,” I scream. Blue throws down a man’s back he was feeding on.