In May of 2019, I planned to go to KillerCon in Austin and my family and I planned a few days in New Orleans afterward. I contacted him to tell him we’d be in town. We worked together on a number of things, but had never met in person. He said that would be cool. I contacted him again in early July and said we would be there and about where we’d be saying. He told me to message him when we got in and he’d try to make it work.

We got there and I messaged him. “We’re in New Orleans in a condo on Touro Street just up from the French Quarter and Royal Street. Possibly leaving Saturday morning. If you happen to be in the area, we can meet up. Wouldn’t mind seeing you, if you have the time. If not, I understand. I’d feel remiss if I didn’t at least mention I was here.”

I sent that in August, maybe a couple weeks after he died. And that was it.

I’m sad for a hundred reasons. I’m having trouble containing it. Having trouble expressing it. I was in anthologies he published, he interviewed me for a HorrorTree article, and when I was interviewed on one of the Horror Show Telethons with Brian Keene he tweeted a question and I was able to talk about him and steampunk. I messaged him after he had passed in a city full of ghosts and told him I’d feel remiss if I didn’t at least mention I was here.

Friday, I’m going to write a steampunk story in tribute to my friend and a great lover of the written word Brandon Black. I’m going to call it “Avalon by Gaslight” and I’m going to stream the writing live on Twitch as I talk about my friend, his favorite genre, and create something in his memory.

I would feel remiss if I didn’t write at least one more story for him to let the world know he was here.