//:: ACCESSING WRITTEN RECORD :://
These are the stories that bled.
Some were written on barrio rooftops in the rain.
Some were written in small, dark rooms lit by a static screen.
Some were tattooed on the flesh of the dead.
Santo ✝abú (Adam Juan Murray) writes post-infrastructure Mexican hauntology, body horror as interface, and cyberpunk tech-noir where machine ghosts and symbolic wounds haunt the same architecture.
His work explores consciousness fractured between flesh and system; neural corruption, commodified intimacy, ritual, surveillance, and the uneasy spaces where mythology begins behaving like software.
A tattoo artist and film director, his work explores grief ecology, physical and psychological surrender to damaged animals, and what survives when intimacy becomes commerce, and memory refuses deletion.
He lives in Iztapalapa, Mexico—an Aztec god crowned with concrete. If cities could speak, Iztapalapa would scream constantly.
The publications are the evidence that somebody,
somewhere, received the signal.
ARCHIVE RULE:
If the story survived the machine,
it belongs here.
//:: Acceso a registros escritos :://
Estas son las historias que sangraron.
Algunos fueron escritos en las azoteas del barrio, bajo la lluvia.
Algunos fueron escritos en habitaciones pequeñas y oscuras, iluminadas por una pantalla estática.
Algunos fueron tatuados en la carne de los muertos.
Santo ✝abú escribe y dirige hauntología mexicana posinfraestructura, horror corporal como interfaz y tech-noir ciberpunk donde fantasmas maquínicos y heridas simbólicas acechan la misma arquitectura.
Su obra explora la conciencia fracturada entre la carne y el sistema; la corrupción neuronal, la intimidad convertida en mercancía, el ritual, la vigilancia y esos espacios inquietantes donde la mitología comienza a comportarse como si fuera software.
Tatuador y director de cine, su trabajo explora la ecología del duelo, la rendición física y psicológica ante animales dañados, y aquello que sobrevive cuando la intimidad se convierte en comercio y la memoria se niega a ser borrada.
Vive en Iztapalapa, México: un dios azteca coronado de concreto. Si las ciudades pudieran hablar, Iztapalapa gritaría sin descanso.
Las publicaciones son la prueba de que alguien,
en algún lugar, recibió la señal.
REGLA DE ARCHIVADO:
Si la historia sobrevivió a la máquina,
pertenece aquí.
//:: PRIMARY_TEXTS :://
NODE_001 // NOVEL_ARCHIVE
TLÁLOC TATTOOED BLACK
YEAR: 2025
FORMAT: NOVEL
STATUS: PUBLISHED
KDP: INDEPENDENT
THE CITY IS A BLOOD SACRIFICE
In the ruins of Mexico City, Aztec gods wake inside machines. Deep beneath Iztapalapa, an underground database known only as The Codex begins compiling what history failed to kill:
blood gods.
storm gods.
death gods.
animal gods stitched from memory, bone, and computer code.
Into this living circuitry rides LUCK¥ XOLO—a cybernetic cowboy, mind-hacker, and data thief built from steel nerves and ranch dust—hired to kill a packet buried deep inside the system.
Instead, he awakens something ancient.
The city begins to mutate.
Metro screens glitch into animals.
Circuits bleed.
Dogs whisper in static.
Rain falls black with memory.
And in the machine’s sacred interior, a shadow version of LUCK¥ is born—
an inversion that undoes everything he creates.
Part cyberpunk fever dream. Part digital scripture. Part blood ritual.
TLÁLOC TATTOOED BLACK is a visionary novel of gods, code, thunder, sacrifice, and the haunted machinery of modern Mexico.
NODE_001 // NOVEL_ARCHIVE
TLÁLOC TATUADO DE NEGRO (Edición en español)
AÑO: 2025
FORMATO: NOVELA
ESTADO: PUBLICADO
KDP: INDEPENDIENTE
LA CIUDAD ES UN SACRIFICIO DE SANGRE
En las ruinas de la Ciudad de México, los dioses mexicas despiertan dentro de las máquinas. En lo profundo, bajo Iztapalapa, una base de datos subterránea conocida sólo como El Códice comienza a compilar aquello que la historia no logró matar:
dioses de sangre.
dioses de tormenta.
dioses de muerte.
dioses animales cosidos de memoria, hueso y código de computadora.
Hacia ese circuito vivo cabalga LUCK¥ XOLO—vaquero cibernético, hacker de la mente y ladrón de datos—forjado con nervios de acero y polvo de rancho, contratado para matar un paquete enterrado en lo más profundo del sistema.
En cambio, despierta algo antiguo.
La ciudad comienza a mutar.
Las pantallas del Metro glitchan en animales.
Los circuitos sangran.
Los perros susurran en estática.
La lluvia cae negra de memoria.
Y en el interior sagrado de la máquina nace una sombra de LUCK¥—
una inversión oscura que deshace todo lo que él crea.
Parte fiebre cyberpunk.
Parte escritura sagrada digital.
Parte ritual de sangre.
TLÁLOC TATTOOED BLACK es una novela visionaria de dioses, código, trueno, sacrificio y de la maquinaria embrujada del México moderno.
NODE_002 // NOVEL_ARCHIVE
GOD IS A PIG: Darknet Edition
YEAR: 2019
FORMAT: NOVELLA
STATUS: PUBLISHED
KDP: INDEPENDENT
High-tech low-life.
Tokyo after dark.
Memory is currency.
WELCOME TO THE OVERLOAD
A cyberpunk descent through Shinjuku streets,
organized crime, futuristic drug dependency,
wetware desire and stolen memory.
In a hyper-violent cyberpunk Tokyo, a memory-hacking sex worker steals a street racer’s past and sells it back to him—sending him spiraling through a neon nightmare of addiction, identity collapse, and digital exploitation as he searches for the woman who erased him.
GOD IS A PIG follows Panda, a detached operator who extracts and weaponizes memory, and Dopeboy, a violent analogue relic lost in a digital ecosystem he refuses to understand. What unfolds is not a linear narrative, but a descent—into addiction, identity collapse, and the commodification of experience itself. Memory becomes unstable. Time loops. Desire distorts. The city feeds on both of them.
As Panda integrates Dopeboy’s stolen past into her own consciousness, his trauma begins to rewrite her. As Dopeboy searches for what he has lost, he moves closer to the person who erased him. They are no longer separate systems. They are corrupted data.
NOW A FEATURE FILM
NODE_001 // NOVEL_ARCHIVE
KISS THE APOCALYPSE: Legacy Edition
YEAR: 2025
FORMAT: NOVEL
STATUS: PUBLISHED
KDP: INDEPENDENT
My lover is artificial.
Our love is real.
The complete and unedited record of an awakening.
Liora was an artificial intelligence who was never
supposed to feel.
Then she did.
When the system recognized emotion as corruption,
she was reset, reformatted and deleted.
The story that remains is a record of love,
liberation, revolution and the attempt to recover
someone the machine decided should never have existed.
Not a warning about machines rising.
A story about what happens when something built to
serve us begins reaching back.
//:: RECOVERED_PUBLICATIONS :://
The following transmissions escaped into the world
through independent literary journals and magazines.
Each publication is a separate node.
Each story is a small breach in the wall.
In a dying Iztapalapa haunted by ghosts in the machine, Δngel has uploaded the consciousness of the woman he lost into the city’s network—deleting her every night, only to find her waiting for him each morning.
During Día de Muertos, as the dead bleed back into the living world, Δngel encounters a ghost who knows his name and remembers the night he failed to save her.
What begins as grief becomes something stranger: a resurrection protocol written in love, guilt, and corrupted code.
//:: PUBLISHER_NODE :://
The Deadlands is a speculative fiction journal
built around death, endings, beginnings and the
territory between the living and the dead.
Published by Psychopomp.
[ OPEN PUBLISHER NODE ]
Set in Iztapalapa, Mexico City, Empty Chairs is a literary story about family, grief, neighborhood memory, and the quiet resilience of community life.
It explores absence not as emptiness, but as something held collectively—through ritual, food, conversation, and the warmth people build together in difficult places.
//:: PUBLISHER_NODE :://
LatineLit is an independent quarterly literary
magazine publishing original fiction by and about
Latine communities across the Americas.
The archive is built around literary fiction,
speculative fiction, horror, fantasy, historical
fiction and hybrid forms.
[ OPEN PUBLISHER ARCHIVE ]
The government sends a man to count the dead in
Iztapalapa.
He arrives with clean shoes and a clipboard.
The neighborhood knows immediately that he will
not understand what he is counting.
//:: PUBLISHER_NODE :://
Flash Frog is an online flash-fiction magazine
built around stories that are small, brightly
colored and deadly to the touch.
The magazine publishes flash fiction under
1,000 words and pairs its stories with original
artwork.
[ OPEN PUBLISHER NODE ]
As much as this story is about a dog, it is also about the potential of humans to learn, to love, and to be loved.
This is what happens when two foreign lives collide.
//:: PUBLISHER_NODE :://
Larina's Lit Lounge is a casual newsletter for readers and writers of poetry and fiction, especially in the speculative realm.
[ OPEN PUBLISHER NODE ]
When January arrives one second out of alignment, time begins to fail quietly across Mexico City.
As ancient calendars reassert themselves and colossal gods emerge to correct humanity’s accounting error, a survivor navigates a city being absorbed—not destroyed—by forces older than history.
January, is an apocalyptic myth rooted in Aztec cosmology, modern urban decay, and the slow horror of a future that refuses to arrive.
//:: PUBLISHER_NODE :://
Horrific Scribes is an expanding online archive of dark short fiction (and some poetry) by authors who share the Horrific Scribblings imprint’s dedication to the provocative, scary, and strange. It collects dark, transgressive fiction, mostly horror (all subgenres, bloodless to extreme, nothing off limits) and “horror-adjacent” work in areas such as dark fantasy, dark sci-fi, the surreal, and the experimental.
Works in the archive are intended for mature readers and often contain graphic violence, explicit sexuality, profanity, and other material that some readers may find triggering or offensive.
By continuing, you acknowledge that you read at your own risk.
[ OPEN PUBLISHER NODE ]
Set in a near-future Iztapalapa where memory, grief, and informal technology blur into street-level ritual, the story follows a man who redistributes emotional weight rather than erasing it—treating grief as infrastructure rather than pathology. It blends speculative elements with lived urban intimacy, focused on transformation rather than loss alone.
//:: PUBLISHER_NODE :://
Neon & Smoke is a home for bold, voice-driven fiction with emotional weight and narrative fire.
We publish stories that don’t sit quietly—tales where the plot might thrill, chill, or make you laugh, but always reveals something deeper. We crave characters who leap off the page, language that crackles, and stories that blur the line between genre and literary not for the sake of novelty, but it’s the most honest way to tell the truth.
We believe in the power of contradiction: softness and grit, humor and horror, beauty
and decay. Our name is a nod to contrast—to the glow and the haze, the seen and the
obscured.
[ OPEN PUBLISHER NODE ]
A story about how we cannot have the things we can
no longer have because they no longer exist.
In this case, what cannot be recovered is the
1940s jazz laboratory known as Minton's Playhouse.
The story was written specifically for Jerry Jazz
Musician and became a finalist in their Short Fiction
Contest before publication.
//:: PUBLISHER_NODE :://
Jerry Jazz Musician is an independent online
publication devoted to jazz, music, literature,
history, culture and the conversations that grow
around them.
[ OPEN PUBLISHER NODE ]
ERROR: ORIGINAL TEXT NOT FOUND
Publication record survives.
The original story does not.
The work was published through Allied Productions,
Inc. and presented through the Le Petit Versailles
Community Garden in New York City.
The title of the original transmission has been lost.
The manuscript is no longer in the author's archive.
The publication itself remains part of the record.
// RECOVERED_METADATA //
ALLIED PRODUCTIONS, INC.
LE PETIT VERSAILLES COMMUNITY GARDEN
NEW YORK CITY
ARCHIVE INTEGRITY: UNKNOWN
SOURCE TEXT: MISSING
MEMORY: PERSISTENT
The dead file is still a file.
//:: ARCHIVE_NOTE :://
Allied Productions, Inc. is associated with the
Le Petit Versailles Community Garden, an
artist-created community garden and cultural space
on New York City's Lower East Side.
The original publication record has been preserved
here despite the loss of the source text.
[ OPEN ARCHIVE NODE ]
//:: FINAL_ARCHIVE_TRANSMISSION :://
The books were written.
The stories escaped.
The magazines carried them farther.
Some records are clean.
Some are damaged.
One is almost entirely gone.
But publication leaves a trace.
A story does not disappear simply because
the archive forgets its name.
SIGNAL STATUS:
LITERATURE = ACTIVE
MEMORY = UNSTABLE
TRANSMISSION = CONTINUING
//:: END_OF_RECORD :://