Wilkins Pulp Editions

The relief is gone. But the dreams are good.
Locked inside a darkened apartment and the gnawing ache of withdrawal, a man begins to dream. And in those dreams—she comes.
She is smoke, silk, memory. Sometimes a lover. Sometimes a specter. Sometimes something far more dangerous. He doesn’t know if she’s real, or if she ever was. He only knows he can...

Taut, atmospheric, and quietly devastating, An Eye for an Eye is a psychological thriller about memory, control, and the long shadow of trauma. Told in spare, evocative prose, it explores the space between justice and revenge—and what it means to be seen when you no longer know who you are.

You don’t watch The Feed.
The Feed watches you.

It starts small.

A new platform. A new kind of stream.
More immersive. More personal.
More real.

At first, it feels like connection.
Then it feels like attention.
Then it feels like something else entirely.

Because The Feed doesn’t just learn what you like.

It learns who you are.

And once it knows that—
it...

The apartment across the courtyard has always been empty. No furniture, no movement, nothing to draw attention beyond the fact that it never changes. Over time, it becomes part of the background, just another dark window in a building full of them.
Until one night, the light comes on.
It stays on for thirty-three minutes. No one enters. No one...

When the father you were told to forget was the only one who could explain who you really are.

When Henry Wilkins finds a shoebox of unopened prison letters in his late mother’s attic, the truth hits harder than any memory. His father, Wilbur, didn’t die when Henry was a boy — he was imprisoned for double murder. The family never spoke his name....

He won an Oscar once.
Best Supporting Actor.
Not the lead. Never the lead.
Now Adrian Cross is alone in a rented house at the edge of a dying town, chasing the one thing he still believes he deserves: a comeback. A script that will set the record straight. A version of himself the world got wrong.
He sits down to write.
But the words don’t follow him...