Psychedelia Gothique

I have always heard the voices in nature; the babble of running water and the rustle of wind through trees; sounds taking on the cadences of conversation, to the point where I can picture the speakers and almost make out words. As I’ve grown older, even the constant low hum of fans and large appliances sounds like people milling around in the distance. I frequently hear far-away games of basketball, sometimes overlaid with sportscasters’ voices.  Sometimes the voices of women cloak themselves under the patter of raindrops or whistle of tinnitus, only to come whispering like bashful angels or sneaky succubi as I drift toward sleep. As I get older, some of the voices are sounding more purposeful and strident, like persistent telemarketers trying and almost convincing me to buy an unknown bill of goods. I hear snatches of music in the walls and the halls, in basements and in shower stalls. Shadows lurk around me, outside my skin, but still stuck on me like a tattoo. Articles and defin...

 Been so busy on my work in progress, I haven't had time to make new blog posts, so I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone. Here's a sneak peek into The Carnivorous Forest - the upcoming book two of the Avenging Glory diptych that begins with The Human Template. Towards the end of book one, Glory was rescued by a group of travelling musicians and given shelter in the home of Kemp, the tuba player, and his adolescent daughter, Kasha. As book two begins, the friendship between the girls has continued to grow deeper. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter Three of The Carnivorous Forest : As Glory and Kasha transformed from children into young women and heard stories of the technological miracles being reintroduced daily in the great city on the far side of the Carnivorous Forest, Glory came to trust that her friend would instantly be able to comprehend every half-considered lyric coming out of her mouth, or at least pick up on the tone, and then elaborate so eloquently that ...