a strange new street

October 23, 2017


BUT JUST before sleep, there must be ,an unguarded moment when the mind is cut off from the will power and seeks its own paths. My mind went to THE BOOK OF AMBROSE. Out of memory marched certain words I’d read therein. And with them came , a strange warmth.

“…The possibilities of pleasure in the human form can be realized only, according to the worshippers, by cultivated adoration of the All-Dark. Complete’ submission to the Prince is signified by acknowledging his sovereignty automatically in the potent and rewarding fields. The King of Lust. The Emperor of Desire. The prayers. “Madarng phalanatus ladion. Mishabwa! Mishabiua! Mishabwa!”

There was a strange, terrifying rhythm to the prayer. I’d read it but once; yet I knew it perfectly. I wondered what Mishabwa meant. It rang through my mind to the accompaniment of little silver bells and –

I was walking up a strange new street – not of dreams but tangible; as real and solid as awakening in the morning and going to sleep at night. So real as to make me cringe with embarrassment at the things around me. This was a narrow street lined with old houses of red brick. There were tiny gardens in front of each house and the gardens had been watered because it was the morning of a summer day. The air was perfumed with the smell of new water and thirsty plants. But there was a sweeter, more feverish thirst in the air, a warming aura which plucked each nerve in my body with a tingling anticipation – of what? I knew what. By all the Black Arts I knew what!

Ivar Jorgensen
Rest in Agony

A Gunman

Just before 11 his gloved fist hammered on the door of 1977 Arkansas Avenue, the last known address of Bud and Bubba, the self-styled ‘Backwoods Bastards’. He knew he was in luck when he heard Bubba’s muffled voice yelp ‘It’s the pizza boy!’ excitedly.

A woman’s screams could also be heard from behind the door. When Bubba’s broken-nosed, wall-eyed, bucktoothed face appeared in front of him, he yelled “You’re the pizza, boy!” and shot him in the face.

Damn! It seemed he was addicted to his one-liners but his timing was off – the gunshot stamped all over that last one. “I should have read more comic books when I was young,” he thought.

He stepped inside. The place was in darkness – the brothers had never acquired the knack of using electricity. Suddenly, off to one side, he caught a flash of Bud coming at him with a home-made machete. He spun quickly and blew Bud’s face off, thinking it a big improvement; he was even uglier than his brother.

In the bedroom a young woman was tied to the bed. She was bleeding from her nose and two fingers were missing from her left hand. He didn’t care to think what other horrors she had suffered at the hands of those two inbred hillbillies.

He wrapped her in a blanket and called the police before jumping back into his car and streaking off into the fog-wreathed night once more.

Mark Howard Jones
The Man who killed Halloween

the monstrous Eyeless-Thing

October 22, 2017

Far to my right, away up among inaccessible peaks, loomed the enormous bulk of the great Ass-god. Higher, I saw the hideous form of the dread goddess, rising up through the red gloom, thousands of fathoms above me. To the left, I made out the monstrous Eyeless-Thing, grey and inscrutable. Further off, reclining on its lofty ledge, the livid ghoul-Shape showed- a splash of sinister colour, among the dark mountains.

William Hope Hodgson
The House on the Borderland


October 21, 2017

The dead bird, colour of a bruise,
and smaller than an eye
swollen shut,
is king among omens.
Who can blame the ants for feasting?
Let him cast the first crumb.
We once tended the oracles.
Now we rely on a photograph
a fingerprint
a hand we never saw
A man draws a chalk outline
first in his mind
around nothing
then around the body
of another man.
He does this without thinking.
What can I do about the white room I left
behind? What can I do about the great stones
I walk among now? What can I do
but sing.
Even a small cut can sing all day.
There are entire nights
I would take back.
Nostalgia is a thin moon,
into a sky like cold,
unfeeling iron.
I dreamed
you were a drowned man, crown
of phosphorescent, seaweed in your hair,
water in your shoes. I woke up desperate
for air.
In another dream, I was a field
and you combed through me
searching for something
you only thought you had lost.
What have we left at the altar of sorrow?
What blessed thing will we leave tomorrow?

Cecilia Llompart

All Souls’ Night, 1917

October 21, 2017

You heap the logs and try to fill
The little room with words and cheer,
But silent feet are on the hill,
Across the window veiled eyes peer.
The hosts of lovers, young in death,
Go seeking down the world to-night,
Remembering faces, warmth and breath –
And they shall seek till it is light.
Then let the white-flaked logs burn low,
Lest those who drift before the storm
See gladness on our hearth and know
There is no flame can make them warm.

Hortense King Flexner


That was where I learned about Kempinski, the tailor who liked to have real dummies on which to hang his clothes, men and women who hadn’t liked his work and so ended up impaled and being clothes horses until the rotting flesh came away in chunks and stuck to the material. Why did the sick fuck get away with it? He’d been a refugee when war started, and worked at Bletchley on coding. Can’t risk that kind of security being questioned: why wasn’t he picked up? How come he was privy to such secrets when he was a psychotic pervert? Really, who do you think wins wars? Nice guys?

Drew Salzen
Fragmented Fears


October 21, 2017

“That’s one Halloween blowjob he’ll never forget!” she said.

haunted house

October 21, 2017

Frank and Katy Matson had no sooner moved to London than they found a haunted house.

Lisa Tuttle
The Spirit Cabinet

(What a lovely opening line for a story, don’t you think, boys & girls?)

my horror and disbelief…

October 21, 2017

Over the next three days, I learned to stay calm, not to betray my horror and disbelief each time Jim’s body washed up in the surf…

Karen Haber
Samba Sentado

Darkest Demon

October 20, 2017

The Vampire is the

Most supreme demon.
The Vampire takes life
Through an invited kiss,

And feels its victim
Slip into the night,
Terrified, collapsing,
As the demon experiences bliss.

Amy Perry