August Dressler

Once upon a time, in the faraway land of Ada, Ohio, there was a man, kneeling before a healer, with a baby in his arms, and tears of grief on his face. The doctor looked down, and said, “It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. Sometimes, God needs another angel.” He said this, for you see, the baby was dead, blue skinned and cold. “It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. Sometimes, God needs another angel,” over and over again, he uttered his grim mantra. “It’s not your fault. There’s nothing...” When the man finally looked up from the baby, the doctor placed one hand on the man’s shoulder, and the other on the infant’s forehead as a penitent priest delivering benediction. ”Let me tell you a story,” he said. “Hopefully, it will be of some small comfort. Stop me if this tale is familiar to you.”

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Some Dark Place: A Novella of Horror

The above image is the second proof-of-concept cover I made. I do not pretend to be a designer. Just like I don’t pretend to be a writer, or a web guy, historian, or preservationist. I am a hack with a myriad of interests. I mostly just fake it. I do the things I want to see and read, since no one else is doing them, and I sometimes hope others come along for the ride. Mostly i don’t much care, since I don’t make my living doing any of these activities. I’m not trying to keep the lights on or my kids’ bellies full. I just like having fun.

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Some Dark Place: A Novella of Horror

I took a few technical writing courses at Iowa State University to complete my English degree in 2016. English 542: Seminar in Technical Communication taught by Geoffrey Sauer had an assignment to produce a cover for an ePub. The above image was my first attempt.

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Emmet Dunnick

Emmet Dunnick imagined god spoke to him as an equal. Emmet never listened, nor replied. He wasn’t looking to be confidant or confessor to the divine. Besides, Emmet knew there was little to be gained from such unburdening; forgiveness was fleeting and fickle. As far as Emmet was concerned, god did indeed have much to answer for, he just refused to be the one to grant him absolution.

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When the hammer falls,
like the lost will of god,
mortals cower
and quake
at the sound of metal on metal
and the screams of a man.

When the vivisectionist’s blade bisects
the heart,
in a final pumping of blood,
agony,
and life,
futures are told,
and secrets are no more.

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Photos