Tag Archives: noir

In Dreams Begin First Person

I am running.It feels like I’ve been running for a long time.I want to turn around and look behind me but my neck is locked into place.So I can’t see who or what is chasing me, but I know it’s … Continue reading

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Autumn Colored Souls

Does Bevel know that the color of Lucy’s soul is autumn? As Lucy danced, I could see her branches sprouting in different directions, while yellow leaves flew everywhere, like star-pointed birds. You want to kiss me really, really bad, don’t … Continue reading

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Wendigo Talespin

My sixth novel, No One Dreams in Color, started as a story, titled Wendigo. Which then became a film script. Which eventually turned into a novel revolving around a man, Paul Kirby, who had written a story which he had … Continue reading

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Broken Land at Ten

This month marks the ten-year anniversary of my novel: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale. I am feeling a bit sentimental about this ghostly noir tale, not only because it was the first time I experienced having a novel published (I … Continue reading

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Psychic Noir

NO ONE DREAMS IN COLOR: Man Vanishes Without a Trace. This, the dramatic headline which stirs Andrew DiBenedetto’s curiosity, and initiates a life-changing course. The vanished man is Paul Kirby, whose nine-minute film, Wendigo—the only film Kirby ever made—was one … Continue reading

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Recursively Yours

Anya, a ghost from my past life who had been more alive in my heart than perhaps anyone else.Anya, who in varied incarnations I had loved and killed off in many different ways in different stories. Yet I always resurrected … Continue reading

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Boneyard

I tell myself stories in the dark, Anya. Whether or not they help is either of primary consequence or none at all. Sometimes you have to walk through the boneyard in order to reach the garden. This is what I … Continue reading

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Tryst

It’s tough to always be in love with a ghost. It’s also easy. The living don’t stand a chance against ghosts. In loving ghosts there are no real complications, no real disappointments, no real anything. There’s lots of teething on … Continue reading

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Feast Days

I could feel the music of a slow future dying inside me. And the past very much alive, like shimmering beatific flowers, like luscious night thistles. The past is a changeable feast. Except it is a feast that eats and … Continue reading

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The Dark

Remember when we were kids and we’d sometimes have sleepovers and listen to the dark together? That’s what you called it Anya. Listening to the dark. And it was because of you Anya that I started naming different types of dark, … Continue reading

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