I'm V. Tacet — I write horror, desire and grief across eight connected worlds. The first door is open: RAW HUNGER, a psychological horror about the most dangerous man in the house — the one who takes care of it.
Or start reading right now — chapter one, free:
Straight to your inbox. No spam, ever — just the work.
Out now
He didn't hunt them.
The family set the table.
Hank takes care of everything. The sick mother. The meals. The family's secrets. A quiet man in a big house — needed by everyone, seen by no one.
And Hank is hungry.
This is not a story about who he eats. It's about the day the family realizes they helped set the table.
“Hank Bell knew love by its angle. Not by words. Words were soft. They lied without effort. The angle didn't lie.” — the first lines
A quiet, clean horror — dread that follows you home. Contains terminal illness, family violence, and cannibalism, told with restraint. For readers of Tender Is the Flesh and The Menu.
Before you buy anything from me, read this. It isn't fiction — it's me: what one hour of silence does to a mind that loves too deeply, and where every world I write comes from.
It's the one thing I'll never sell. Read it here, whole, online or as a download. There will never be a price on it.
No email needed. No catch. If it hits you, the books are waiting below.
One is out. One is next. The rest are still behind their doors.
The books stand alone — start anywhere. But readers who stay begin to notice things: a symbol that returns, a silence that echoes from one world into another. Nothing is explained. Everything is placed.
Tacet · Latin · he is silent
V. Tacet is a pen name. Tacet is Latin for he is silent — the silent rest in a score, the place where the instrument doesn't play and is still there.
A young man from Europe, still in his twenties — that's most of what you get to know. The rest is in the books.
I didn't start writing to become a writer. I started because something wouldn't leave me alone — a feeling that the world I was handed was too small for everything I carried inside. So I began building others.
I write love, horror, desire, grief, machines and monsters — eight worlds from one mind that never learned to be just one.
The horror is real. So is the tenderness. If a story here cuts you, it cut me first.
“I don't know who I am. Because I am everything.”
I wrote that sentence on one of the worst nights of my life.
Then I realized it wasn't a wound. It was a map.
— V. Tacet
Join and I'll send you chapter one of Raw Hunger, free — then one email when a new world opens. Nothing else.
No spam. No newsletters about newsletters. Unsubscribe anytime.