Welcome to Andante. Below you may find the five story arcs that I am currently working on. Each story arc can be read as a stand-alone, but all of these are connected by the world of Andante.


This story follows Seles as she travels the world, seeking out cases of a mysterious ailment known as ‘Morosia’. This disease steals the dreams of those it infects and only the Dreamer can cure it.


I can’t fight it anymore. It’s too much. “Oh… !” I let out a quiet gasp and pull my arm across my chest, hugging myself tightly. My toes curl as the muscles in my thighs and stomach tighten involuntarily. I bite down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. No! I won’t lose! I never lose! But… it feels so good. Why can’t this go on forever?   “Fuck you and your-“ My…


The sensation of sinking is always unsettling. Gone are the little round windows of the quaint cottage. The two children and their sick mother have vanished from my sight, but not from my thoughts. I know what I need to do here, in the dream world. That is what this place is: a world of dreams inside of the mother’s imagination. Almost everyone has dreams. Every dreamer stands on the doorstep of the infinite….


I know this place. Four white walls, a white ceiling, and a matching floor, all smooth and spotless. A bare cot in the corner of the room illuminated by one lonely lightbulb. How long has it been since I left this shithole? “Wake up, Celestria.” A monotone voice addresses the room with its grating drone. The tiny hairs on my forearms jump upright, wavering like a tightrope walker crossing a perilous line. My brow…


The story of Dash and Arden’s shared struggle against a cruel dictatorship in the Bloody Sands. Along the way, they meet the ghosts from Arden’s tormented past.


“Better keep up with me, punk.” “Piss off. It’s been a long week.” My comeback gets the angry reaction I expect: my captor jerks me around with my restraints. I lost track if it was Jeb, Jed, or Jef speaking. All three of them looked and sounded the same anyways: identical triplets, little piggies in uniform leading me on a leisurely trip through the Bloody Sands. At this rate, we’ll hit Palladia before sundown. Unless I can bust out of these cuffs first. “Dash? That’s your name? Hah.” I think it was Jeb speaking now, but who knows. He spits…


“Hey dude?” I look up at the big guy, Arden, as I finish unbuckling the belt. This belt belonged to Jeb. Jeb’s dead now and I’m already tired of seeing Arden’s naked ass. I start sliding the pants off of the dead guy, but I still have to fight the urge to puke because I think Arden hit Jeb so hard that Jeb might have shit in his briefs. Either that or Jeb never bathed. I’d buy it either way. “Yes, Dash?” The big guy responds as Jeb’s pants float over and smack his unassuming face. He has a weird…


The story of Roré the Huntress, the Wild Ones, and the Unfed’s assault on the Ivy City.


I can see the sun peeking over the eastern horizon. I can smell soil and grass just a few inches below my nose. Marty lies at my side covered in olive drab from head to toe. We raise our heads high enough only to see what’s ahead: barren, empty flatlands surrounding a mossy green cityscape. The Ivy City. “Farmlands?” I ask. “Likely. No crops though.” Marty replies and shifts his weight to one side. “Abandoned?” I return. “I don’t think so. Look.” Marty nods. I look in the same direction and spot something out in the distance. Barely visible….


Trust yourself. Believe in the vision. I crouch in wait at the base of an aging birch tree, drawing the gray fur of the Wolf Mother around me to ward off the chill. The familiar smell keeps me calm and drives away the anticipation of the hunt. Even still, I am cold. Off in the distance, I can see the great stone wall marked by a crescent moon. Behind it looms the True Moon, full and bright. With or without its light, I see all – moss draping the wall, a snake slithering through the dead leaves on the…


The story of an enigmatic nomad with no name and the trail of fire and death that he leaves in his wake.


Stay away! “Well met, traveler.” Meaningless words accompanied by a shallow smile from some blonde meat puppet. I look him over: mid-twenties, strong, scrap armor, metal blade, and a revolver on his hip. Another dumb adventurer. He’s also alone. Guns make people so confident…   “Hello.” I wait a moment before I offer a hollow reply, then bow my head for a moment. “Are you here for the bounty too?” The man flashes me a toothy grin. Bounty? That’s news. He looks me up and down, sizing me up for a moment, then looks away dismissively….


A series of short stories about four of the protagonists from Andante. This is where I originally hashed through some of my ideas before deciding to start fresh with a little more planning and organization. I re-published these here, but they are still available to read on my blogger account.

11/17 Update: I have moved Trent’s story here under ‘Creating the Harbinger’ as I have significantly re-worked him to be much more interesting.

NOTE: These are no longer canon.


‘A KNIFE FIGHT, A LIGHTNING STRIKE, AND A DIRTBIKE.’ “One, two, three. One, two, three…” The gentle percussion of falling raindrops accompanies my mantra. “One…”   One radiant red ember bobs up and down in the gloom above the gas pumps. I can discern the silhouette of a single rotten rook as the dirty bird titters away, alone on his perch. The cologne of cannabis accompanies a cold breeze. “Two…” The back door bursts open with a bang and now a portly watchdog stomps out. He tears off his plastic football helmet and discards it like a piece of garbage….


She feels its serpentine glare before she hears its hiss.  “Tsssssssssssssssk!” Warns the serpent as its wraps around itself, scales slithering in the sand. It stretches its maw wide, revealing two glinting fangs. The girl freezes, not that she could see the danger before her. The last thing she ever saw is still playing on rewind in her head. She could not have been more than fifteen years old at the time.  It had started off as a single pinprick of light amidst the oily black mass enveloping her home. She had already felt its presence very clearly, as she…


White walls are no company to keep.  “How do you feel right now?” A hollow, mechanical voice resonates within the vacuum of the four white walls. The teenage boy sitting on the matching cot does not respond. He hugs his knees close to his chest and his head bows to half mast. His bushy head of brown hair is quite overgrown and his bangs hang down to veil a pair of pale blue eyes. “How do you feel right now?” The unfeeling voice repeats. Silence. The prisoner considers the question.  “How do I feel right now?” He thinks to himself…


Measured boot falls beat out a meter as the dusk settles in. This meter serves as a harbinger, announcing the arrival of a man clothed entirely in black; a flowing ebony poncho lined with bear fur, long black boots, and form-fitting charcoal slacks.  Three vagrants lie in the dirt, much worse for the wear after their chance encounter with a young warrior and her flashing steel. The newcomer’s steps come to a temporary rest here and without breaking the meter, he taps a triplet with the tip of his right boot. The one vagrant who is still conscious, the one…


There is no sound to carry through the bitter frost here. A smothering blanket of snow wrapped these pines in solitude long ago and the pines never escaped that frozen embrace. Even now, as the shadows begin their moonlit march, their trudging footsteps are muffled by the suffocating snow. Numbering approximately three dozen in total, the line of shadows slips through the pine trees much like flowing water might whorl and ebb around stones in a stream. The shadows have no words to share with one another and communicate only with hand gestures. There seems to be an unspoken agreement…

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