The Author
Where the laughter comes just before the scream.
M.B. Starc was not born in the traditional sense.
He emerged—half-formed, over-caffeinated, and suspiciously overdressed—from the smoke of an unwashed dream and an inconvenient obsession with the uncanny.
He writes what should probably remain unwritten.
Stories where desire has teeth.
Where identities shed like snakeskin.
Where reality loosens its grip just enough for something else to slip through.
He believes in slow unraveling.
In elegance.
In laughter that comes one breath before the scream.
If you’d like to follow his descent:
→ Transmissions on Substack
→ Echoes @MBStarc on X
Or find what has already escaped: