The Bullhorn of SILVER BROWN

Now Playing: A Two-Network Double Whammy

Chapter Sixteen of SILVER BROWN shall be presented to the fine folks of Planet Earth, via Twitter. At a rate of one page a day, like always. It is a relatively short chapter, so it will be followed immediately by an encore presentation of Chapter Thirteen on Facebook. I have something more grandiose planned for the summer, so I wanted to keep things light this time around.

In case you’re not clear on the context, Chapter Sixteen opens with two witches standing in front of a mysterious toolshed on the forest island of ₪EYONUGHIISHI, the elder witch having just cast a spell to summon a colossal faceless entity that lives within the toolshed’s TARDIS-like interior…


The Journey of SILVER BROWN

The Muse Kissed My Brain Last Week

On an otherwise typical Thursday night, the sandman flooded my dreams with images of a manuscript that was half novel and half comic book. Every other chapter was written in comic book form, and people would wonder at the marvel of it. I’m not sure if I would ever do a writing project like that myself, but it’s an interesting concept to ponder at least.

Can’t remember what the hell it was about. The plot was completely forgotten as soon as I checked the notifications on my phone upon waking. All I remember is the main character was a fish-out-of-water everyman in the tradition of Philip J. Fry, and its world was populated by a race of diminutive humanoids who communicated entirely in Shakespearean sonnet. Vaguely resembling the creature depicted in the image below, but with a penchant for wearing stately phallic headdresses.


The Bullhorn of SILVER BROWN

Now Playing: Chapters Fourteen and Fifteen

A brand-spankin’ new year has arrived. Immediately following a year that has seen all manner of weird. To kick things off right, Chapters Fourteen and Fifteen of SILVER BROWN are presently being tweeted for the reading enjoyment of the fine folks of Planet Earth, at a rate of one page a day. These chapters are chock full of exposition and flashbacks, and are set on a forested island inhabited by flesh-eating beetles. There’s a colossal subterranean faceless entity in there too, manifesting somewhere in the last few sentences. Which might not seem so strange, after the year we’ve just been through. If the earth’s gravitational pull should suddenly and inexplicably fail, or vast armies of arachnoid hostiles from somewhere beyond Canis Major should mass-impregnate our women, it’ll probably be seen as a minor inconvenience in our post-2020 world. Like losing one’s car keys.