New Short Story Published in Anthology

Just got the news today that the anthology with my new story has been officially released. It's called Enter at Your Own Risk: Fires and Phantoms and is a collection of gay-themed ghost stories. My story is titled "Prickle the Ivories." Between this story and my poem "Chloe" that was published in Educe Journal a few months back, it appears that at least some of my work is destined to be accepted by the queer community. Definitely cool with that (hell, I'm cool with almost any audience that'll take me in, but I do have a soft spot for all things LGBT). Sheesh, wait until I finish my novel...only my wife will be able to confirm my sexual orientation.

Here's a link to purchase the Kindle edition on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Enter-Your-Own-Risk-ebook/dp/B009LOOCKU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1349684082&sr=8-1&keywords=enter+at+your+own+risk%3A+fires+and+phantoms

And the print version from Barnes and Noble:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/enter-at-your-own-risk-alex-scully/1113145342?ean=9781479228096

Also...here's a link to the publisher's site with some info about the book:

http://www.firbogpublishing.com/Library.html


Sort of crazy to think that I have a story in a book that also features work from Edgar Allan Poe and Edith Wharton. Sweet.

On a Meathook

Hello everyone...sorry it's been forever since my last post. I'm just a busy little beaver. Here's a quick treat for you. This poem was previously published in the San Diego Poetry Annual.

Dedicated to everyone who values and respects the lives of non-human animals...or maybe it's dedicated to those who don't...hmm...

ON A MEATHOOK

sterling clinks fine china

stained with filthy ichor

savor the spirit

that dances down the gullet

wails echo from afar

the executioner wipes

the sanguine blade

upon his apron

relish in

humanity

in the grim field

gazing

into her moist orbs

so sweet with life

her mottled hair

once so brilliant

soon commodified

sold for magic beans

her manure

perpetuates the cycle

she finds her next life

in the form of prosperous

gilded arches

sentience sliced

and processed into the smiles

of naive

ethereal minds

condiments will mask

the flavor

of malfeasance

the body of mankind

a tomb

the epitaph--

nutritional statistics

the elegy--

a catchy jingle

lyrical lies

drawing flies

that pulp caught twixt your teeth

was someone's baby

the heart

is cheap gristle

with compassion

stunned

into nebulous

oblivion

children's laughter

children slaughtered

selfish tastes

lead to cancerous fates

Short Story Published by Penduline

My story "Maternal Instinct" has just been published by the online journal Penduline. In this issue, their theme is "WTF?" Well, I'm pretty confident that I gave them the ultimate WTF? story. It's one of my favorite pieces I've written in recent months, and also my very first attempt at writing from a woman's first-person perspective. You can check it out here:

http://www.pendulinepress.com/author-article-archives/maternal-instinct/

Let me know what you think!

They-Who-Do-Not-Exist

Not much to say about this one...just an allegorical "unseen monster" sort of tale I suppose.

THEY-WHO-DO-NOT-EXIST

Reading, Pennsylvania and its inhabitants cannot be seen with the naked eye; they must face each harsh morning using only the sense of smell. Those with leather wallets and a bloodhound's nose are fortunate enough to pay the landlord most months. The town's sense of sound is also keen, but the screams that pervade the night are typically ignored, drowned out by the shared crunch of day-old bread, the pressure of liquor's languor.

Within the city limits lays an invisible beast that bellows: a roaring lion with claw and tooth ravaging the potential of youth, claiming more victims than can be counted by the Census Bureau. It never crosses the Penn Street Bridge for fear of being discovered. The monster punishes the locals for their poverty, dips into its own till, traps itself within.

A glass bottle transforms from comfort to weapon.

A gunshot echoes at 5^th and Penn.

Again.

New Poem Published in Educe Journal

The second issue of Educe Journal has just been released and it features a poem of mine titled "Chloe." Educe is known for publishing queer literature, which is obviously usually written by those who identify as such, so it's an extra bonus that the editors were impressed enough with my work to publish it despite my "straight" status. I consider myself to be queer friendly in both my writing and my personal life, so it's an honor to be included in this publication.
If anyone is interested in purchasing either a digital or hard copy of this issue, here is the link:

http://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/417174

Sonnet of Samhain (mischief night version)

Here's the companion piece to my last post, as promised (which was published alongside it in the same journal). I played with this one a little more to give it a more modernized feel, whereas the other sonnet was "older" in its feel. This one still basically adheres to a Shakespearean sonnet form, but the iambic pentameter is purposely less perfect. I enjoy them both for different reasons...if anyone out there has a favorite, let me know in the comments!

SONNET OF SAMHAIN (mischief night version)

hey! let's pretend we're boogeymen again

in plastic, rubber, thrift store finds we've dressed

voorhees, krueger, myers—our chosen men

the masks we wear are spooky (fuck the rest)

we'll never be too old for tricks and treats

toilet-papered trees won't be easily stopped

our terror's in the hidden nooks of streets

ringing your bells and then avoiding cops 

costumes adorned with bile, blood, and grue

if candy rots our teeth then so be it,

the devil's sugar is our impish fuel

our classic scares will fill your pants with shit

world at our mercy, let's take back this night

not for the weak, a holiday with bite!

Sonnet of Samhain (traditional)

This little ditty was originally published in a journal called Synesthesia. There is also a companion sonnet that was published alongside this one. I will post that one up in a few days.

SONNET OF SAMHAIN (traditional)

this night we don the masks of those we've lost

such frightful flesh does tickle at our cheeks

the lines of blessed and damned have now been crossed

'tis goblins and sly demons that we seek

through trickery and guile we prevail

a sacrificial feast upon our plates

sweetmeats between our teeth so sick and stale

we dabble in divinity, not hate

where spirit and corporeal now meet

we dance under the black flames of the sky

don't dread the tiptoe tapping of our feet

the darkness will soon offer its goodbyes 

tomorrow we shan't regret what we've done

just wicked children yearning to have fun