No Names in the Fog
They said the fog called their names. When the rescue team arrived, maps failed, and identities vanished. Dartmoor doesn’t forget—but it erases.
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The Mourner’s Feast
Grief was the offering. The church was the altar. And beneath it, something ancient stirred — hungry for sorrow, not souls. Clause II was written in flame.
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The Silence at Bleakmere
1947. The war is over—but some doors stayed open. When a deniable unit is sent to a ruined pagan village in the Peak District, silence isn’t just eerie—it’s enforced. What they find buried beneath the chapel rewrites the rules of engagement… and forges the first clause of the Monster Accord in blood.
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Writing Memory Wars
How Memory Wars began — from a simple what-if to a fractured future where memory is currency and survival means remembering who you are.
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Why Trail Running Became My Therapy
How trail running helped me rebuild after the military — one mile at a time, through silence, struggle, and the search for peace.
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Why I Write: Running, Memory, and the Battles No One Sees
Writing became a way to survive — a way to face memory, trauma, and silence, and turn it into something that might outlast the scars.
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