Writ & Ruin by J.W. Arthur (ba-BUM ba-BUM ba-BUM ba-BUM ba-BUM) I gave them breath, my essence sealed in ink, then loosed each in a dark 'n hellish place. I sowed the seeds of horror, made them think, and saw life bloom near death with fragile grace. The tales were traps, not triumphs—wounds, not wins, I cheered 'n watched as fate would test them all. Each fought their sins and madness spawned within, some lived—most died, 'n many missed their call. I prayed they'd break beyo

The attention to detail in my current work has been very demanding. Given the legacy of my cinematic and literary horror influences, one...

InFlection by J.W. Arthur     Death—memories fade, her smile—like the sun—remains, foolish pride to blame.       © 2025 by J.W. Arthur. All rights reserved.       A deceptively simple haiku . While I chose not to explicitly incorporate themes of nature or the changing seasons, my thoughts concerning death align with these concepts on a much deeper level. In my view, death represents transition and renewal, much like the cycles of nature. The haiku's 5-7-5 syllable structure i

Rime of the Mourning Dead by J.W. Arthur I received this dreadful call...late last night, from a voice of bone-chilling fright. Lo, it...

Fear Not, Dreadnaut by J.W. Arthur 'Neath dreadful night skies, I drift off to fears, tucked in by your guidance, I navigate and steer. Amidst nightmarish ruins, left to wander—I roam, Unearthing within a grit I'd not known. As horrors take shape—apprehensions come true, I draw strength from your oversight, a testament to you. Terrors they plague, ghastly frights do consume, Lord, my faith it remains—your disciple, through and through. Inspired by author Jerry B. Jenkins, who

Mister E. Plummets by J.W. Arthur     My watery grave—ceaseless respite, blessed deliv'rance from hell left behind. The eternal sleep, an...

Dy'rs Prey'r by J.W. Arthur   Whilst I shut mine eyes, I sense its icy stare, this unseen thing which awaits a last drawn breath. Patient. Inexorable. Lo, it doth lurk in the darkness ‘round this bedside, its movements do so unnerve mine very soul, sower of dread and fear that relisheth its undeclared presence. Begone, I pray thee—a tidal wave of fear engulfeth me. Trouble me not, I beseech ye—prey'r of mortal fright. Inspired by the works of H.P. Lovecraft and Ramsey Campbe

My growth as a writer is largely owed to the invaluable guidance of author Jerry B. Jenkins—those are just the cold hard facts, my friends. But let's back up, shall we? Back when a dream planted its seed, bringing forth by root a germ, that sprouted into an idea, from which its existence did emerge. How cleverly whimsical that was of me and certainly a mouthful. But you get where this is going. It all started one afternoon, while I was having lunc