Seems people still enjoy an engaging story, don’t they? As if the story they’re constantly making up in their own heads isn’t enough. Or maybe it's too much. Maybe Reality is only subjective anyway. If you think so, or if you don't, I have a story for you.

Wait, what do you mean what do I mean—about reality or subjectivity?







This is only the end of the beginning. Start here. You'll catch up.

Domains of Opposition

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White Fist and Two Dogs have awakened to a world unrecognizable, one that recognizes them as unregistered, elusive, and dangerous vagrants. To an ancient enemy, however, they are seen as what they are, a perilous and uncanny obstacle in the path of plans fully in motion and events deemed unstoppable.

How they got there—the subject of the first book, now thankfully out of print—is another story. Serial revisions of that tale will be found nearby. 

Meanwhile, these riven are drawn toward the center of an inevitable cataclysm, one that must not begin without them.

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This was the beginning. It will be again.

White Fist & Two Dogs

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It had to start somewhere. It could have been anywhere, of course. Turns out it was the tablelands of New Mexico in 1878. Nobody expected that.

This is the story of an unscheduled meeting between a half-breed drifter and paired members of a warrior caste not of this world, an inscrutable metahuman adversary, a cosmic artifact of unknown capability, a hermit community of once-human beings, and a death-defying creature of merciless appetite.

It's not your ordinary cowboys and aliens.

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WHAT I DON'T HAVE

chatGPT.

Smokin'-hot sale prices on my catalog of well-reviewed serializations.

What reviews…?  Move along.

A web designer, videos, merch, or a newsletter to which you can subscribe.

No Kindle, no cart, no checkout, no transaction.

I don't have a "DONATE" button either.

WHAT I DO HAVE

Speculative fiction. Words on a page. Deliberately arranged.

Interconnected story arcs presented in occasionally linear fashion.

The reasons for, the participants in, and the implications of an impromptu pan-galactic intervention.

Appreciation for your willingness to read this far.

WHAT YOU CAN DO

Read. Scoff if you will. Adore if you must.

Read more or, you know, don't.

Remain hopeful. Be kind. Strive to be happy.

The simple answer is the least accurate.

What the Hell is Hevn?

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IF YOU'RE READING THIS,
YOU'VE BEEN IN A COMA FOR ALMOST A DECADE.

WE'RE TRYING A NEW TECHNIQUE.
WE DON'T KNOW WHERE THIS MESSAGE WILL END UP IN YOUR DREAM, BUT WE KNOW WE'RE GETTING THROUGH.

PLEASE WAKE UP.

you first
Off-timeline vignettes, wild speculation, etm.

Essays & Chronosynclastic Episodes

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Pan-galactic rest stop and natural wonder.

The Little Flower Ranch, Waystation & Vortex

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The ranch is tucked away near a forested hilltop, one of many crowding a broad oak savannah somewhere on the Left Coast of North America. It's a peaceful little parcel outside of a sleepy one-stoplight town close enough to a city you can see its halo on the next hill over.

The waystation is where we live. We like company, but for most folks, we're an out-of-the-way station. It adds to the charm, I guess.

The vortex? Well, you know. It's hard to explain.

Why are you still reading this?

the what?
You've gotten this far. Close the loop.

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