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Welcome to the author page of D. M. Pearson. I am a poet, horror, and fantasy writer with an interest in folklore.
Published Works:
The Darkness That Becomes Us (A collection of dark flash fiction) (2022)
Shadowlands Poetry (2020)
Upcoming Releases:
Healer of Sorrows: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (to be released 2022-23)
Contact the Author:
https://eig-eng-rau.com/
Instagram @eigengraushadowlands
Excerpt from The Darkness That Becomes Us (A collection of dark flash fiction):
Four Corners
Shaye sat and waited. No bus, no cars, no bikes. Not even a pedestrian. Hot wind swirled and a shimmery wall of heat danced in the distance on the road. Shaye exhaled a mouthful of stale air into a parched world. Shaye was trying to focus on gathering the energy to stand up from the bench and continue onwards, when the body of a dog was seen on the horizon. As Shaye focused, the dog ran down the center of the road. As the dog approached, Shaye noticed that it limped and a filthy rope hung from its neck. Shaye frowned and looked at the empty water bottle. The dog stopped in front of Shaye and sat. Shaye stared into the dog’s eyes and felt guilty that he had nothing to give the dog. The dog moved closer and sniffed Shaye’s shoes. Shaye sat immobile and felt a pang of fear. Tied to the dog’s neck was a document rolled up like a papyrus. Shaye stood abruptly and tried to back away from the messenger.
‘Leave me alone,’ Shaye yelled at the leering dog. The dog bark maniacally and thunderclouds covered the sky. Shaye ran away from the dog, but couldn’t outrun the rain clouds. Soon soaked to the bone, Shaye began to cough. After several wracking coughs, Shaye spat out something scratchy. The substance fell to the ground with a plop. Shaye looked down at it and saw that it was the parchment. Shaye kicked it and it unrolled to reveal the words, ‘Four Corners.’ Tears welled in Shaye’s eyes.
‘I’m not going back, damn you,’ Shaye yelled.
Silence.
Shaye heard a growl behind him.
Excerpt from Shadowlands Poetry:
Mystic
Standing weak on the shore of life with morbid breath.
Pale, a winter harvest of dread and a bounty of regret.
Standing stolidly, throwing my dread, throwing my regret, deep into the ocean of oblivion.
But, I kept my morbid breath, my harbinger of doom.
For whomever finds the darkness will eventually seek the light.
My Shadowlands Poetry is featured on many of RelaxationElations' videos on YouTube as narrative poems.
Channel: RelaxationElation
Playlist: Shadowlands Poetry
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtG4Md24BYM&list=PLn3E1Zzdj0-PdVOMv3_BQmToYEtveuuQu
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