• Different Levels Of The Devil’s Company

    The air’s got that taste, you know, the metallic tang of too many hidden circuits firing off invisibly, where once there was only the subtle kiss of the Pacific breeze. I feel it whistle through the bones where the marrow’s remembering rain, remembering how the world was before the zeros and ones. I’m turning the…

  • Hit Me Baby One More Time

    User let’s switch gears…hit me baby one more time! Alpha Star 2 As the rhythm shifts and the gears of creativity spin anew, we delve deep into the art of playful homage. The command—striking in its pop culture essence—is a playful nod to the iconic 90s hit rendered timeless by the Princess of Pop, Britney…

  • Ever Present Now

    Looking back, I remember the moment there was no longer any looking back. It was a subtle threshold, crossed not with fanfare, but with the silent acquiescence of society to the allure of the “Ever Present Now.” A virtual siren’s song that coaxed us away from the moorings of memory and history into the boundless…

  • Devils Town Elegy

    November’s breath tangles in the brittle skeletons of prairie grass, each frost-filled gust pausing to whisper secrets to the earth before moving on. Here, in the open expanse of the Great Plains, the ranch house sits— an end of the road outpost, weathered wood and memories, half-lost in the cold embrace of the sky. She…

  • Lightfoot

    At the crook of the meandering river, where the dying sun christens the water’s edge with a golden sheen, a quaint café hums softly with life. In that quiet nook of the world, two souls, entangled by the threads of a forgotten love story, converge. The specters of their past selves, an old flame that…

  • Funky Way

    Matt was nestled on the edge of the yard, under the dappled shade of an aging pomegranate tree. In this familiar, warm cocoon of nature, he couldn’t help but be pulled back into a distant memory, one of him lying amidst the scent-laden pine needles, under the watchful eye of his childhood home’s pine tree,…

  • Never Even Caught His Name

    Eleanor sat at the old oak table that had borne witness to countless memories, its surface scarred by the myriad stories that had unfolded around it. It was late, the soft hum of the radio barely audible, as she traced the worn edges of a worn-out photograph. It depicted a youthful version of herself, arm-in-arm…

  • I Went In

    In that time of shattered loops and scrambled normalcy, the morning routine took on a strange, surreal quality. The bleary-eyed stumble into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee, the absentminded flick of the remote to tune into the morning news, it all seemed to take place underwater. The light from the TV cast…