Posts By: Karl Low

Oliver Moorcraft-Sykes

Oliver Moorcraft-Sykes is an acclaimed spiritualist, scrivener, and amateur orthodontist living and writing in Winnipeg, Manitoba. His accomplishments are too many and varied to list, but suffice it to say that he’s done everything that George Santos has done, and then some. Should you have any questions or concerns about his writing, please do not hesitate to try and contact him.

[blue rare]—In the Cities of the Night

Far more than just an absence of sunlight, the nighttime is a whole different country; its borders between waking and dreams notoriously porous and uncontrolled.  In the cities of the night, winding backstreets are charged with strange energies and apparitions, more threatening than the daytime, but also more filled with the promise of mystery and… Read more »

[blue rare]—Intimations of Mortality

I am the poisoned worm at the bottom of the mescal bottle.  I am the air bubble in the bloodstream, the psychopath’s machete, the malfunctioning soviet-era satellite careening from the bright blue skies.  I am as beautiful as wolfsbane, as sleek as a bullet or a blade, as crooked as a funnel cloud, as sudden… Read more »

[blue rare]—Alive in the Realm of the Senses

Sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell: they are our only means of bearing witness to and possibly gaining some understanding of the surprising pageantry of the weird world we find ourselves plunged into.  This sensory input provides us with the raw ingredients which time distills, and which our mind, that arcane mixologist, stirs and crafts… Read more »

[blue rare]—Where Dragons Live

Perhaps it is the state of the world these days, or merely my inner state of mind, or some combination of the two, but lately I have been feeling adrift.  More accurately, the need to be adrift.  To cut myself free from the present place and time in the hopes of finding diversion, escape, maybe… Read more »

[blue rare]—Notes from a Frozen Land

If memory serves me, it was that ignorant douchebag T.S. Eliot who once fatuously proclaimed April to be the “cruelest month.”  Yeah, right.  Look, I will level with you: owing to the misfortune of having made a little bit “too merry” last night, with several shakers-full of dirty martinis in celebratory anticipation of the end… Read more »

[blue rare]—Goodbye, Blue Monday

By the time you read this, Blue Monday will have come and gone.  I am not naturally given to deep bouts of philosophical anguish.  A simple, oblivious soul by nature, I blithely drift through most days of the calendar, beset by only minimal levels of angst.  As a rule, the relentless outrages and dystopian murmurings… Read more »