V le chenz
Stories for readers who breathe better in the dark.
Stories for readers who breathe better in the dark.
I write dark fiction from the woods of New Hampshire.
My stories draw from true crime, old records, bad memories, faith, violence, class, family history, and the things people refuse to say out loud.
Some are invented.
Some begin with something real and get worse from there.
I write for readers who want thrillers with teeth, characters who make bad decisions, and endings that leave a mark.
Read me with the lights on.

Selected V Le Chenz stories are available for adaptation and professional consideration.
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Vinny DeCarlo was hired to clean out a dead animation studio.
Simple job.
Dust. Boxes. Empty offices. Old walls.
Then he found the false wall.
Behind it was a room nobody was supposed to find.
Inside were files that had been kept hidden for a reason.
Religious research. Restricted images. Witness notes. Names that did not belong together. Warnings written by people trying very hard not to sound afraid.
Vinny should have walked out.
He didn’t.
He took the first box home.
That was the mistake.
The First Face is a dark supernatural thriller about buried records, forbidden images, fame, faith, and the kind of secret that does not stay dead once somebody starts reading.
Read it with the lights on.

The restaurant looked clean.
White paper on the tables. Hot coffee. Desserts under glass. A respectable little place tucked behind a theater.
Vinny knew better by the end of his first shift.
The owner smiled through everything. The chef ruled the kitchen like a filthy little king. Regulars grabbed waitresses, laughed it off, and ordered another drink.
After closing, the coke came out. The affairs stopped hiding. The room belonged to whoever was left inside—and nobody was coming to stop them.
Vinny sees all of it.
He tells himself he is different. That he is the only one still bothered.
Then the restaurant gives him room to prove it.
Every shift gets uglier. Every night follows him home. And when Vinny finally stops watching, The Soft Spot gets exactly what it has been asking for.
Some rooms are not haunted.
They are staffed.

The Soft Spot looked clean. White paper on the tables. Coffee hot. Desserts under glass. A polished little restaurant tucked behind a theater, the kind of place where customers came to feel civilized for an hour before going home. Vinny, a budding fiction writer, knew better by the end of his first shift. The owner smiled through everything. The chef ruled the kitchen like a filthy little king. Regulars put their hands where they didn’t belong. Waitresses cried in service stations and went right back to pouring coffee. After closing, the room changed hands, and the people left inside did what people do when they know nobody is coming to stop them. Vinny sees all of it. The jokes. The grabs. The coke. The affairs. The cheap little humiliations everyone calls "part of the business." He tells himself he is different. He tells himself he is the one person in the room still bothered by what should bother everyone. But the longer he works at The Soft Spot, the more the place gives him room to practice the worst parts of himself. Every shift gets uglier. Every night follows him home. Every person in the restaurant becomes part of the same dirty machine. And when Vinny finally stops watching, The Soft Spot gets exactly what it has been asking for. Some rooms are not haunted. They are staffed. This experience feels like a scene from a true crime novella, with every shift resembling the dark twists found in thrillers. Vinny finds himself entangled in a narrative that echoes the themes explored by V Le Chenz, a writer known for weaving philosophical elements into his literary fiction.

In a world where no one is honored while they are alive, every life is measured only after death.
The Legacy Accolades Archive was built to protect truth from vanity. When a person dies, the system counts what can be proven and seals the record forever.
Vinny DeCarlo trusts the system.
Then his father dies.
The official record says Vincent DeCarlo Sr. left behind twelve verified contributions. Clean. Reasonable. Exactly what Vinny expected from a man he never fully understood.
But inside a storage unit, Vinny finds a card catalog filled with six hundred names: people his father helped before they became measurable. Before the certifications, placements, repairs, protocols, and records the Archive could recognize.
People who almost quit.
People who almost vanished.
People who needed ten more minutes.
Now Vinny has to confront the flaw in a perfect system.
The Archive can count the good thing.
It cannot always see the body underneath it.
Every Good Thing Has a Body Under It is a sharp speculative novella about legacy, invisible labor, fathers and sons, and the people who hold the world up without ever getting their names attached to it.

Vinny da Guinea
My father was a killer.
His father may have been one too.
I found out the hard way that some things run in families.
A fictionalized true-crime thriller — coming soon
Greenwich looked perfect from the outside.
Vinny grew up close enough to the mansions to see what money protected—and close enough to murder, family secrets, violence, and old names to understand what it could bury.
Vinny da Guinea moves through the childhood, crimes, people, and memories that formed him. Some stories are funny. Some are ugly. Some do not make sense until the final pieces fall into place.
This is Greenwich without the postcards.
Old money. Cold blood. And the things families refuse to say out loud.
V Le Chenz


Calvin Coolidge