Listen to Them!

quote, horror, Bram Stoker, vampire

Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!
― Bram Stoker


The Irony that Kills Us

vampire, quote, Anne Rice

The world changes, we do not, therein lies the irony that kills us.
― Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire


The Undying Sloth

The Undying Sloth

The undying sloth
Crawling into your spine
Crick, crack, crunk go the joints
Grinding each other to pulp
Weighing down your shoulders

The undying sloth
Loathe to die, now Falling
Crick, crack, crunk to the ground
Now it’s lost its eyes
Sucking, slurping, smacking its lips
Leaching the calcium from your bones

Such a feast with legs!
If it still had them
It’s never going to let you go.


Cut Up

“I don’t see why you’re so cut up about it–oh . . .” As he turned around he noticed his partners lack of life. They had literally been cut up. But by what? was his immediate question. Who could have done this, or–he made a loud gulping sound–what could have done this?

On the one hand he was scared half to death.

On the other hand he was trying so damn hard not to burst out laughing. The situation was so ludicrous he was almost in denial. For crying out loud, this was exactly what happened in B grade in horror flicks!

Well, he said to himself. You can always join them, and then beat them later! Feeling strengthened by his new resolve, he straightened his pristine lab coat.

Then he filled both pockets with every sharp object he could find.

Before leaving the room he turned back to his partners corpse. “Promise me you won’t turn into a zombie and I promise that I will avenge you.”


This is It


This is it,
The cup overflows.
Now drink it up,
To drown again.
Nothing’s going to get you.
No one’s going to save you.
This is it,
The end.


Two-Faced Harpy

Two-faced harpy with the dead white hair

Two-faced harpy sitting in a chair
Two-faced harpy with the dead white hair
Two-faced harpy screeching: life’s not fair!
In your nice comfy chair
Where the people don’t care
Two-faced harpy sitting in her lair
Sorry, little harpy, but you’ll just have to share
Devil-Woman’s coming, so you’re in for a scare
Go tell your little cronies about your greatest nightmare
‘Cause Devil-Woman’s coming, and you’re in for a scare
You two-faced harpy, I’m gonna show and tell
Gonna show you my storm cloud wings, gonna tell you all about hell
Two-faced harpy with the dead white hair, your dirty white wings, and your little wrinkled heart, I’m curious to know how you fell
So far, landed in between insanity and dreams, living in denial, but you just can’t tell
Two-faced harpy sitting in a chair
Sharing your space with your greatest nightmare


Swallowed by the Seasons

Succulent frowns skewing a face
And bloated hysteria teasing
A  spider web draped over a body like lace
A corpse swallowed by the seasons



Lice-like, they seem to him

To her, like worms

In and out they go

Weaving around outstretched hands

Until they’ve disappeared into the stranger’s mouth

A smiling mouth, enigmatic and uninviting



No One Wanted It Around


“Feed me, I am hungry, the beast said. It regarded its reflection on spoon as it awaited the answer. Perhaps he should just crawl into a hole and die–permanently. No one wanted a demon around.

As expected, the woman said No in a flat tone, followed by a: “Leave me alone.”

If only he could make her feel something . . . Then he wouldn’t feel so dead inside. It would never happen again like it used to, though; she had put her foot down–permanently. She didn’t want a demon around.


Dead Man’s Epiphany

Some form

of boredom


over my world,

like a blanket

hurled over me.

It is so dark, there

is nothing to see.

I try to move but cannot.

Cramped. I feel cold.

I feel hot.

It stinks of mould.

Why should it not,

as I lay here to rot?


Soft Thoughts

Passionate zealotry,


illusions shaped like living people

or hallucinations?


Ashkenaz Loves His Spam

It’s true. Nothing pleases me more than a slew of disjointed comments and thoughts. My favourites are the ones about purses and watches; second on my list would be the faceless, nameless people who claim to love me (well, the team, but that includes me as well).

I have a story for you–it’s more of a parable, really, but who cares.

There were two chimps, and one baby sloth. Then they disintegrated.

Oh, you didn’t learn anything? Well, I did lie about this being a parable, but who cares. Nobody really cares much for my opinion. Not even Jake, and he was the one who discovered me. It’s all about Theo, and that Coopid thing. Coopid’s a parasite, and everyone denies that he exists. We don’t even know if he is a he. Somehow, even Coopid gets more love than me.

It’s not like I really care, or anything.

I’m going to morph into a cat now. Yes, and then someone will find me in their house.

Yessssss . . . 



It reckons

That you are worthy of its brilliance

So it beckons

For you to come; why do you refuse

You choose to display such resilience

to its uncanny power

So then its mood turns sour

You have insulted Vrogh-shov-veda

And now the situation has become dour

If Vrogh-shov-veda is alpha and omega

Then Crik-kro-taw is beta

Py-thag-rous is theta . . . so on and so forth

How–why–could a mortal thing deny its power

And now the god is confused

Crik-kro-taw has been summoned

And Py-thag-rous roused

Through space and time they come and

Take you to Vrogh-shov-veda


We’re on a Kick!


Werewolves were far more terrifying than vampires. It is probably the idea of seeing the human within the beast and knowing you can’t reach it. It might as well be a great white shark. There is no sitting down and discussing Proust with it, which the traditional vampire model seems to leave room for.
–Glen Duncan


Watching You

Watching You

The quality’s a bit low, but that extra grits certainly adds something!

Who knows what that thing is looking at. Maybe you don’t want to . . .


–Penny C.


Terms of Estrangement

He found it odd that she could have fled from his love; he had devoted his existence to her in its entirety, had risked all of his stature for her. Hadn’t he? Was that not what she wanted?

Why then, did she leave him?

Something began to grow within him–a fire within his belly that churned, broiled, consumed. Ire. Rage. Contempt. Pain . . .

Pain had been something which he had forgotten the taste of. Did she see HER? he wondered. Did she see US? His old mate had come to him the night before; she had tempted him, and he had fallen.

Was that it? Yes, he told himself. What was seen as sin among the human animals was nothing to care about among his own kind. Didn’t she know that? 

“I did this,” he whispered to himself. The fire returned. How could she leave him? Not a word had been spoken on her part. After he had been with his old mate he had searched for his woman . . . His human wife. And his searching had been in vain. Again, that fire flared up from within, but this time the fire spread through his veins. He found himself on the ground, on his knees, doubled over.

She never bothered to say anything. Not one word. No goodbyes, one side of him said to the other.

Yes, but you knew. You are the one who drove her to this–ever since your wedding night so, so long ago! the other retorted.

A loud groan filled the air, cracking his jaws wide open. Pain! There was a sickening lurch in his stomach. Something within him snapped.

The groan, the pain . . . Grew into a roar.


Hatred for her and her betrayal. For her rejection.

You always knew, that voice accused. And now she’s lost to you.