Raymond Sierra writes with the visceral clarity of someone who knows dust on baseball bats and the weight of brotherly shadows. His prose, unflinching yet darkly lyrical, crackles with the tension of 1985’s fading innocence, where picket fences guard simmering rage and fireworks wait in damp basements. Born of working-class roots, Sierra excavates adolescence with raw authenticity. His characters, David’s defiant slacker spirit, Nick’s quiet grit, Willie’s coiled menace, feel less invented than unearthed. He crafts suburbia as both sanctuary and battleground, where a stolen loaf of bread or a neighbor’s glare can detonate a life. Though guarded about his private life, Sierra’s narrative voice suggests intimate knowledge of rust-belt towns, the scent of Vicks VapoRub, and German Shepherds with loyal eyes. His dialogue snaps with teenage bravado; his landscapes breathe with decaying sheds and sweat-soaked baseball fields. Sierra currently resides in the Midwest, where he avoids the spotlight but crafts stories that blaze. Fourteen Days is his debut novel; a love letter and a warning to every boy who thought he had time.