It’s a new book! Here we go!
Novel: Horror
Down for publishing.
Author: Steppen Sawicki
It Comes Back – Part IV
Last part.
Short Story: Science Fiction
Down for submission.
Goodbye
Drabble: Drama
He heard the incessant whine of the machines as he flatlined and the shaky last exhale from his lungs, and he was gone.
Two floors down, she gave her first cry, covered in blood and mucus. The doctor cut her cord and handed her to her mother. She didn’t stop crying. Her soulmate was gone, taken away from her two floors above.
He drifted down to her, following her screams. She opened her eyes and was silenced. He was beside her, smiling to her in their greeting and goodbye. He turned, and left her, and she knew not to cry.
It Comes Back – Part III
Short Story: Science Fiction
Down for submission.
It Comes Back – Part II
Short Story – Science Fiction
Down for submission.
It Comes Back – Part I
This story is so weird. I did it anyway. I’ll be posting it in three or four parts.
Short Story: Science Fiction
Down for submission.
The Fallowing – Epilogue
This is it! That was my book! Hoped a few people enjoyed it. I never actually meant to finish the silly thing, but it was what I needed at the time. I have another book on the way, so stay tuned.
Novel: Horror
As the train plows through miles of snow, I can see the runoff settling into the white expanse on either side, out the windows to left and right. It reminds me of days trekking short miles and nights sleeping short dreams, out in the cold wilderness. But those memories drift away in the presence of heating piped through vents, cushy carpets, ambient music in the dining cars, plush seats in the sleeping cars. Even my memories of home are fading, growing dim as if my mind can’t hold all these events, needs space to try to process everything. I’m tired and anxious and my heart hurts all the time, trying to tell me something. Still, I remember my promise to myself, to the world.
The End
Short story: Fantastical horror love story
Down for submission
Planning
Drabble: Horror?
He had studied for years, prepared for months. He limited his diet to emaciate his body. He tried different visualizations to free his mind. One night he imagined his self floating in a reservoir, the water slowly draining through a hole. He slipped through the hole, and out, and left his body, and was free.
He looked down upon his gently breathing shell on the bed and rejoiced. He floated up, away, his soul unencumbered, and only when he was satisfied did he return.
But he returned to a state of shock.
He hadn’t planned how to reenter his body.
The Gathering
I’m going to keep writing. It’s all I can do to deal with the hate that has manifested itself in my country. It’s the only way I can think of to cope unless I want to start drinking. Because I feel afraid and unsafe. My friends feel afraid and unsafe and I don’t know how to help them. So I’m going to write.
Drabble: I don’t know what genre
The new soul arrived tired, filled with regret, still reeking of death. It wavered in the field in the cold air, and cried out, though its voice didn’t carry. It was alone, as alone as it had been within its skin. But its skin had fallen away, and it was naked and without anchor.
Others rose from the creek, ephemeral shades stepping out to welcome it. They moved forward, wrapping themselves around it, calling it to join with them. Letting it know it was no longer alone, that it was now a part of a whole.
So the fog gathered.
Smeared Black Ink 