Jesse is a ridiculous boy. He has always dreamt of being an artist. Since childhood, he has painted on silos, made art projects out of spare parts, and attempted to portray the image of his mother perfectly, even long after she's gone. The Mange is a story about this silly boy named Jesse who sea...

A phone that doesn’t belong to him. A call every morning at 5:50 AM. And a voice that never asks for help — just to be heard. He never gives his name. But somehow, he becomes the one they speak to. Some stories aren’t meant to end. But carried. Even silence can be a kind of reply.

In grief from which he can't relax, Love blurs with death in parallax, He follows in her tragic tracks, To raise the fallen through the cracks, And finish what he had begun, To do what cannot be undone, Pursued by what he can't outrun, The end, friend, comes for everyone

Tick tock, the doll walks Watching the worlds go round Unable to stop the destruction wrought As the clock winds down A year remains before light reigns Silencing the people around Wandering for the rest, repeating at the next Until the clock winds down

A man named Freddy finds himself in the most unusual situation after experiencing a drug overdose.

Who am I? You will know. Perhaps you already know. Xilu, I will take your power. But who are you watching on? Who are any of us? That's something I cannot say.

"We are all the same". It is something said normally. I have to disagree with it. We are not all the same. And we aren't all the same because each person have a different story to tell. A different story to hide. Is this the story about a person that writes to meet the stories of everyone? Or ...

" The world is too bright. So let's destroy it together". Two hundred years ago in the continent of Aviona where only exists darkness. And atop all the darkness stood a single Demihuman claiming himself to be the Twelfth Demon Erebus 'The harbinger of Calamity', Erebus destroyed half of the Co...

In the fading light of a quiet evening, Édouard wakes up in a room he no longer recognizes. When an old rotary phone begins to ring, the voice on the other end knows far too much — about his life, his loves, and the cracks in his memory. Farewell to Myself is a gentle, haunting short story about...

In the neighborhoods of Southern California, you'll find a few things; shitty high schools, migrant workers, drug addicts, and young artists who are trying to get out of the poverty of their neighborhoods. Of course, there are exceptions to these categories, such as Johnny Beladaz–he lives an eve...