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Literary Fiction, Noir, Pulp Fiction, Short Stories



We donít expect anything nice.

We know beauty is out there, waiting to betray us.

We know we should have faith in our fellow humans. Because they tell us we should and theyíve proven themselves so trustworthy. Uh-huh.

We see a world wanting to self-destruct and we see ourselves as part of it.

We see love everywhere, as evidenced by lovers killing out of jealousy, and followers of one God of truth and wisdom eager to annihilate followers of another.

We see hope and know our vision is marred by a desire to see what we want.

We return to cynicism, we return to hate, we return to those emotions we can trust.

We want some of you to like what we do; we donít give a fuck if any of you like who we are.

We are Swill.


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Literary Fiction, Noir, Pulp Fiction, Short Stories