Where others can paint their portraits within the bounds of decency and good sense (and honestly I applaud them for it) I’m afraid I color outside the lines a bit. My stories will curse in anguish, shriek in terror, and bleed from ragged wounds. There is horror and corruption and ignorance and cruelty to be found here, plumbing depths of ancient fears and the evil men do. Yet these pitch black shades bring out the raw lines of light, of courage, hope, perseverance, and redemption. Dirty faced and world worn tales of the lowly exalted, crooked made straight, and the lost being found.

So these are not the typical stories perhaps, but they are my stories and maybe, just maybe, they’re your stories too. I hope we get a chance to find out together.

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