Category: writing

  • Sunny Day Parasol Co. — Case File #13: Quicksilver

    an episodic Vivian Locke noir

    Image generated by Gemini, with direction by Michael Raven

    This is a serialized story. Start with Case File #1 here.

    “I’ll pass on the gin,” I said, keeping my posture relaxed but ensuring my right hand rested casually near the slit in the midnight blue silk. “It dulls the reflexes, and I prefer to keep my head clear when I’m collecting a fee.”

    Cross’s smile didn’t waver. He leaned back, his tailored suit seeming to absorb the harsh glare of the chandelier above us.

    “Fair enough. Though I notice you are traveling remarkably light for a retrieval job, Miss Locke. Tell me you didn’t leave my property sitting in the back of that rented hack you took from the Brass Canary. It would be a terrible shame to lose our investment to a common cab driver.”

    “I wouldn’t insult either of us by being careless,” I said. My left hand, wrapped tight in fresh white gauze, went to the velvet clutch resting in my lap. My burnt fingers brushed the velvet, feeling the unnatural, freezing weight of Kogan’s ward humming against the escrow token.

    (more…)

  • casting runes — 20mar26

    raido
    the whisper-trace of song
    slendering on the breeze
    and crow — crow calls
    echoing slumber dreams
    held by dragonflies sunning

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is raido, which has been translated as “ride” and the implied “journey”. This may be spatial and literal in practice (a physical journey), or it may be more figurative (an inner/shamanic journey, i.e., útiseta). The rune is associated with cyclic motion and the movement of the sun. Some consider the journey represented by raido to be that of returning.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

  • new moon skies

    it's easy to believe
    all the pretty little lies
    we whisper to our heart
    under cover of dark
    under the new moon skies

  • ankh

    just a taste
    a liver taste
    just a taste of you

    he takes a measure 
    and jackal laughs
    he drinks a life of you

  • casting runes — 19mar26

    sowilo
    a new shaft of illumination
    punches through
    this thick head, mine:

    some words given great weight
    are but feathers on
    the winds of expediency

    A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.

    Today’s rune is sowilo, the sun. Sowilo is the source of enlightenment, for lighting the way and illumination. It is also called the “icebreaker” and gives power to an “attack”, ensuring success and/or prosperity. This rune also represents hope, the light at the end of a long darkness.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

  • ash

    i dream in lapis and ebon
    pale and on cheeks high
    gliding on twixt and tween
    she phantoms deserts on night

  • trees fall down

    all our trees
    fall down
    matchsticks
    in summer
    stone storms
    come your
    burning fields
    and salted soil

    all our trees
    fall down
    catch them all

  • Sunny Day Parasol Co. — Case File #12: The Devil’s Doorway

    an episodic Vivian Locke noir

    Image generated by Gemini, with direction by Michael Raven

    This is a serialized story. Start with Case File #1 here.

    The scalding water of the club’s cast-iron shower felt like an exorcism. I stood under the sputtering spray until the hot water tank coughed its last, watching the black, sulfurous grime of the past eighteen hours… Had it only been eighteen hours? …swirl down the drain like a broken promise.

    I stepped out into the humid, cramped bathroom and dried off with one of the thick, luxurious towels The Canary kept around — one of several small luxuries afforded the employees who worked the club. I winced, tracing the deep, clean glass cuts across my left hand, then carefully redid the bandages. A girl gets used to the sight of her own blood in this city.

    Margot had left a dress hanging on the door. Midnight blue silk, the kind that whispered promises. It was cut on the bias to cling like a second, dangerous skin, but with a slit high enough to allow a full, unimpeded draw from a thigh holster. I strapped the heavy snub-nose to my leg, the cold steel a comforting anchor against the soft fabric, and slipped the silk over my head.

    A sharp knock rattled the frosted glass of the door.

    (more…)

  • casting runes — 17mar26

    gebo
    hollow reed at winter's retreat
    standing still, snow sentinel
    waiting for the thaw to slip
    below vernal washing waves

    A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.

    Today’s rune is gebo, which has a core meaning of “gift”. This relates to all forms of reciprocity: transaction, generosity, hospitality and sacrifice (in the sense of giving up something). It may also mean offering up a talent or skill; or gebo may suggest a synergistic, possibly romantic, relationship.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

  • oblivion

    in my time of dying
    there will only be
    those phantom fingers
    pale spiders slipping over
    & between my own
    gentle ageless eyes
    matching ghost smiles
    leaving me haunted as
    the needles slip away
    into the fog of sweet
    oblivion