These aren’t stories so much as fragments — flashes caught between blinks, voices that won’t stay quiet, places that don’t exist until you read them. Each dispatch begins with an image and ends wherever it damn well pleases. No maps. No continuity. Just shards of thought and shadow scattered on the page.
Some are ugly. Some are strange. Some might even be beautiful if you squint in the right light. But none of them are whole. They’re splinters — and once you pick one up, you carry it with you, whether you mean to or not.
- Voltage and Bone
Dispatches from the Splinters of My Mind In the shadowed sprawl of the junkyard, she stirred—wings of flayed brass and splintered steel rattling against the wind. Once, a brilliant engineer had built her to fly, not for war but for wonder. That was a long time ago. The world had since taught her sharper lessons. … Continue reading Voltage and Bone - The Girl Who Carries a ForestDispatches from the Splinters of My Mind Her name is Raquel, but my given name is Rachel. I first noticed her when I hit high school and the air around me started to hum with a voltage—lockers slamming, gossip sparking at the seams, hallways strung like power lines through a town that never slept. She … Continue reading The Girl Who Carries a Forest
- The Weight of RainDispatches from the Splinters of My Mind – Entry III Some storms don’t soak the skin. They reach inside and drown the marrow. Tonight the rain falls with the weight of a kept promise. It doesn’t descend so much as push down, insist on itself, fill the air until breathing becomes an act of resistance. … Continue reading The Weight of Rain
- Waiting for the Next BulletDispatches from the Splinters of My Mind – Entry IV I’ve spent twenty-five years wandering the constellations of dust that pass for towns in these parts, chasing rumors of justice across salt flats and sun-stained mesas, my hand welded to the only gospel this world respects—cold iron, burnished to a black shine by blood and … Continue reading Waiting for the Next Bullet
- Windows WithinDispatches from the Splinters of My Mind — Entry 5 For years, the suitcase had slouched against the wall, olive canvas faded to the color of dead grass, as if weighed down by secrets. Mara learned to live around it. She told herself it wasn’t hers, not really—it was just another flaw inherited with the … Continue reading Windows Within
- Freshly Made, Just for YouDispatches from the Splinters of My Mind The Hippy Ice Cream Man – Entry VI The gulls owned the rooftop. They had claimed it long before we arrived, staking their kingdom in feathers and shit, in the low, guttural croaks that echoed like laughter. Their wings tore at the sky when they rose, dragging it … Continue reading Freshly Made, Just for You
- Cracks in the LacquerDispatches from the Splinters of My Mind – Entry Seven: The walls were peeling again. Not in the way of a neglected apartment, with cheap paint curling off plaster in thin, tired strips, but in wide, curling plates of color — beige slats splitting like sun-bleached bark, hanging on just enough to whisper of the … Continue reading Cracks in the Lacquer
- The Monument’s SilenceEntry Eight: Dispatches from the Splinters of My Mind The face hung over her as a dead moon would, immense and inert, plastered to the sky with the obscene permanence of a fossilized wound. It was not sculpted in the image of any god she recognized, nor did it bear the standard of a people … Continue reading The Monument’s Silence
- The Noise That Survives MeEntry Nine: Dispatches from the Splinters of My Mind I wake upright, as though sleep forgot to fold me into its arms. The darkness presses in all around—soft, velvety, bruised at the edges, like some colossal bruise pulsing with the low red hum of my own blood. A cloth lies warm against my eyelids, its … Continue reading The Noise That Survives Me
- Delicious LieEntry Ten: Dispatches from the Splinters of My Mind An image-driven meditation on beauty, decay, and the quiet art of passing for alive. White comes first. It always does. I dust the night from my face with a powder the color of absolution and tell the mirror a soft white lie: you are whole, you … Continue reading Delicious Lie
- The Bloom and the BladeEntry Eleven: Dispatches from the Splinters of My Mind I found her in the middle of a killing field that should have had no place for beauty. The moon sat low and full behind her, a pale coin pressed into the sky, casting that cold lacquered light across armor, bodies, and the drifting ash of … Continue reading The Bloom and the Blade
- What Bloomed After the Darkness SurrenderedDispatches from the Splinters of my Mind – Entry 12 I didn’t expect to find anyone out here. This stretch of land was where people came to lose things, not recover them. Ruined garden, dead roses, night thick enough to bruise your lungs. The kind of place you walk through only if something heavier is … Continue reading What Bloomed After the Darkness Surrendered
Memoirs of Madness 