Skip navigation

Tag Archives: Dark Fiction

Soliloquy of the Torturer

How shall I burden thee thou vacant shell?

Whose forlorn spirit can no longer in thee dwell

Abused, contused, such a shredded form

That shirks thy joy beyond the blighted norm

Confused, misused, rebuking clotted clay

Can no longer cower like the dogged prey

O’ how they used to dance upon thy skin

Tools of torture that cajoled blood within

A sanguine medley of raucous outpouring

Thy melodies took to air and then went soaring

That delightful voice so full of passion

That stirred emotions in a poignant fashion

Thy pleading crescendo that wrenched my heart

Hath sang its encore and fled the part

With nary a credit to the conductors skill

Without whose flair to thy struggling will

Would not have brought such fiery drive

To a tedious creature just barely alive

With distressing sorrow I bid adieux

For another apt instrument awaits my cue

The Will-O’-The-Wisp

Lying listless on a lonely, loam lake shore

Framed by fog and the bitter, brine bog air

Curse the cruel fangs of fate that flung me here

My body beaten down by the black brood of despair

T’would take a thousand years to tell the tale

Of the madness, misery, and mischievous calamity

And I pray not ponder upon my past hell

Lest I beat my brain from my brow in insanity

Then lo, I spy through the gloom a green, glowing globe

Floating, flying, bouncing, and bobbing right at me

Too weak to worry with rising to run

I anxiously await its arrival and abhor the agony

What would it want with a wretch with no will?

Then it howled by my head and halted and hovered

And an enigmatic energy possessed my person

Slowly sinking; subsumed, consumed and now covered

I cheated in a couple of places with spelling, but these were still fun to write.

 

Enclosure

ENCLOSURE

Nothing gets out, nothing gets iN

Confined within space specifiC

Locked up body and souL

Open up!  The answer’s nO

Stripped of freedom’s blisS

Unable to break thrU

Release me!  The answer’s neveR

ENCLOSURE

 

Alphabetic Explanation of the Undead

A Beetle Clawing Dirt Entered Forgotten Graves. He, Incidentally, Just Krept Last Month Near Other Places Quite Radioactively Saturated. This Unusual Visitor Would X-plain Your Zombies.

Ode to the Moon

Come join us, won’t you?

Take part

With festive heart

With dancing feet

To a restless beat

Sing

An ode to the Moon

A plump, pudgy, corpulent Moon

The kind that makes lovers swoon

Just right for a honeymoon

Makes ocean tides swell

Drives wolves to yell

The kind that silhouettes a witch

Or makes a lycanthrope twitch

Oh fullest Moon

So golden clad

So voluminous

So luminous

Yet daytime hath forbad

So magisterial

So ethereal

To it magic cannot add

How is it that you drive

A sane man mad?

Danse Macabre

Shades are shaping

And shapes are shifting

Through faint glowing mist

Ghosts are drifting

Their floating forms

Fills the air

Moaning laments

Of woe and despair

This Danse Macabre

That wends it way

To the Potter’s Field

Where Death holds sway

Forked tongue wizards

Spewing spells

They draw their venom

From necromantic wells

Lurid faced witches

Cavorting nude

Their laughter foul

And their dances lewd

Decaying features

Mottled skins

Rotted flesh

And skeletal grins

Ghastly ghouls

And gory beasts

Great horned monsters

Who’ve come to feast

The graveyard pageant

The writhing throng

Suddenly ceases

At the rumbling gong

The dead have risen

At their master’s calling

But to their knees

They now are falling

Amongst the dankest dark

A tolling fills the gloom

Every creature halts to hark

The approaching Lord of Doom

Clanging clong of iron bell

Precedes his stately tread

Everything that hears the knell

Bows to the King of the Dead

The Haunters of Autumn

 Oh how they cower in dark little places

Fear etches haunted looks on their faces

They scamper and scurry to avoid the light

Only come out to play under cover of night

Their eyes glow like candles flickering in wind

And the rustling of leaves is the sound of their skin

You cannot catch them for they’ve already fled

They cannot be killed for they’re already dead

You’ll hear them whisper from shadowy wood

As the Haunters of Autumn send chills through the blood

 

The airs of October carry their voices

Half-heard gigglings and other strange noises

A whisper behind you that drifts through the air

Tells you their presence is about you somewhere

What are these creatures that haunt the gloom

Mocking and stalking with portents of doom?

The woods are alive with their tittering taunts

You walk alone on one of your nightly jaunts

Hearing your shrieks over the darkening plane

As the Haunters of Autumn leave you cold and insane

This is artwork paying tribute to some of my favorite authors of horror:

The following are links to some good stuff on YouTube about Lovecraft (some serious, most funny):

A Lovecraft Dream

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yC0Gqt8VRKk

The Elder Sign

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWT07iRvI9M

The Love Craft

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cnbE8VGLnZw&feature=related

Fishmen

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tTHn2tHhcI

Lovecraft Interview

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jQtkGJMtH0&feature=related

Awake Ye Scary Great Old Ones

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9gRtHX6c08&feature=related

 

Episode 101 of the H.P. Lovecraft Literary Podcast was just released yesterday (Thursday, 26 Jan 2012). I wanted to publicly say thanks to Chris and Chad for another entertaining and amusing show – especially since they had to work with two lesser stories attributed to Lovecraft’s involvement and they did a great job plugging my work. Thanks, Gentlemen!

I didn’t really expect Chad to quote me as saying I wanted to be “Alabama’s H.P. Lovecraft” – damn you, Fifer, that was a joke.

Another entertaining episode and two great guys!

Check it out:

hppodcraft

Having put much thought (and research) into a new story arc that will be the backdrop to a new series of stories, I’ve just about finished the first story that will likely weigh in at some 6,000 – 7,000 words. I’ve dubbed this cycle of stories the Wetumpka Cycle for the name of the town and its history in Alabama. These stories are to be integrated into the Cthulhu Mythos and will draw on much of the creatures, deities, and arcane literature that many authors before me have contributed to the Mythos.

Of course I will be adding my own elements to everything. A few of the books I’ve decided to draw on are real books:  Tyson’s Necronomicon, the Nocturnicon, and The Book of Nod. There are various other real books that aren’t contemporary works that I’ve researched and will use. Mostly they are books on witchcraft, demonology, Hermeticism, and alchemy.

The plot of the larger arc that unfolds is based on some very real events in Alabama’s history. In Wetumpka, Alabama is the site of the state’s only confirmed impact crater. Matter of fact, I currently live inside of the caldera. The asteroid that caused it impacted the Earth many millions of years ago and was estimated to be as large as a football stadium. The result is that the current crater is about 5 miles in diameter. In the Mythos, this asteroid contained an alien metal that possessed sinister powers and was a conduit through which an alien, outside force could project its influence causing the psyches of the humans that would come to settle the area and come into contact with the metallic ore of the asteroid to change. The result usually being a gravitation towards madness, violence, evil, abuse, and various other dark behaviors.

The metal lay dormant for millions of years waiting to act on a sentience. The Native Americans were the first people to settle the area and they were the ones to discover the metal. Sensing the uniqueness of the metal, they revered it and incorporated it into their rituals. When Hernando de Soto came with his conquistadores through Alabama in the 1500’s they took the metal and fashioned it into a set of shields; but before they could leave the area the Indians rose up at the Battle of Mabilla and took back the shields. After that they were re-incorporated back into the rituals of the natives – thus becoming the object of the Brass Plate Dance in the Creek’s Green Corn Festival.

History lost them after white settlers arrived and the Creek War ended. Many legends as to their fate have circulated but the plates’ whereabouts remain a mystery. That is until it’s explained in the Wetumpka Cycle.