Inventing Interesting People


I love inventing interesting people and then pushing them to their absolute limits – and usually those absolute limits involve homicidal faeries, werewolves, or some other paranormal menace.
–Maggie Stiefvater

(So do we Maggie . . . So do we.)


ABCs Of Horror

This is the official reveal of our working cover:

Screen Shot 2015-05-24 at 12.45.20 PM

And that’s about all else that we can say now. Will it evolve into something else? Possibly.

The whole idea is to make something incredibly ‘grunge-o-matic’, and to make something that looks like it could be a journal multiple people have written in. We have the grunge; not sure about the journal bit.

Rest assured we’re still mostly sane. Sane enough that we’ve started talking about next years project (Sault Ste. Misery), but that’s still a vague conglomeration of muses . . . Back to the ABCs though: we’re still in the process of editing, and now we’re amassing illustrations to display in the book; Jake is working on a mythological beast for each letter of the alphabet (as a chapter cover).

For now, enjoy your Saturday!



Over Ripened Blackberries

She picked up an unsuspecting fruit, and held it between her thumb and index finger. Infinitesimal insects crawled over and around each purple cluster; they were like little flying worms with legs. I’m going to masticate you all in one small bite, she thought offhand. Today was the first time she had noticed them on her fruit. One had been flying around the bowl; she had noticed it while she was working at her desk.

How many of these creatures had she consumed in her lifetime?

How many infinitesimal souls had she destroyed?

Her friends called her quirky. The old ones called her deranged. In her larval state she was capable of simple, paltry, human thoughts. And it was slowly driving her to madness . . . The fruit burst between her fingers.

The infinitesimal worms wriggled in the dark juices, contorting their bodies in agony as they suffocated.


Dear Ezra

Dear Ezra

Ezra, you mesmerize me so!

Ezra you tantalize my soul.

Ezra, have you come to eat me whole?

Have you come with all your hellish power

and beastly appetite, to devour me?

Ezra, don’t you see?

My soul is much too small for you.

My soul is as dead as yours is, too.


More Werewolves

Werewolves are much more common animals than you might think. –Daniel Pinkwater

Werewolves are much more common animals than you might think.
–Daniel Pinkwater



I was downing a spoonful of tomato soup when my dad spoke up.

“Is that him?” he asked me. Looking up, I followed the direction his finger was pointing in. We were at the restaurant to kill a few hours before our show. The him, or it I should say, was someone I had dated once. I say that word tentatively because I was really just playing around . . . Being young and naïve . . . I don’t know what you’d call it. I wasn’t exactly in my right mind at that time.

He didn’t see us, or at least I don’t think he did. The woman he was with looked familiar. What is it with him and going after women who look like his mother? I should add that mother is also tentative. Master or mistress was more the correct term. Keeper would work just fine, too. She also reminded me of someone I knew in high school. Natalie? Or Madelaine?

“I never knew he was bi,” I murmured to myself. What did I care, though?

My dad seemed surprised. “What did you see in that schmuck?”

I shrugged my shoulders. To be honest I couldn’t tell him, because I couldn’t remember a single thing. I don’t think he really had that much of a personality to begin with.

Then again, he wasn’t that much of a human, if you follow me.

That poor girl was in for a rather nasty surprise.

“Oh well, he did you a favor, didn’t he?” That was my dad again.

“You have no idea,” I told him bluntly. “He’s on a whole different plane.” Despite being in the same general area as he was, I wasn’t really bothered that much by it. Thankfully.

That poor girl, I thought to myself again. Then I quickly reminded myself that this city was crawling with his kind. As I downed another spoonful of soup I heard my dad say something about cleaning up the riff-raff. I couldn’t help but smile.


Salamander King

Oh, furious lord of the pit:

Do excuse us for our prejudices

against you and your people.

We are just not compatible with you and your own,

as friends,

or lovers.

Do excuse us of our insolence

towards you and your own.

Knowing full well of our own history,

and how we came to be

it is quite clear why we do what we do in the way that we do.

And this, too:

that we won’t be subjugated to your will.

Simply put, we are not yours.

And yet, still,

you seek to destroy us through all of these absurd methods.

I wonder,

that if we think about them less and less,

you will continue to have any power over us?


Ashkenaz Likes Werewolves?

Horror Quote #9

Another werewolf thing. Like most animals, we spent a large part of our lives engaged in the three Fs of basic survival. Feeding, fighting and… reproduction.
― Kelley Armstrong, Stolen

The third F was obviously farting. Feeding, fighting, and farting. Reproducing is for carbon-based life whose  ancestors were amoebas . . . What am I talking about? Well, it’s not me talking (Penny), it’s actually Ashkenaz. The other mortals have had their free-will (which is just a placebo, as you creatures are simply puppets) sucked out of them. I’ve noticed that this tends to happen to you when you’re preoccupied with work. Work is not as delightful as those illusory cats you desperately try to cling to.

Regardless of what I am not trying to say . . . As an overlord (and apparently an imprisoned resident of Jake’s attic–I have no idea how that happened, I swear) it is my infernal duty to pick up the slack of Team Monster.

I hate my non-life.

P.S: Enjoy your cat illusions! 

P.P.S: I really do like werewolves . . . They are . . . Delicious . . . 

(He really, really, wants to be relevant–Penny)


Thursday is a Good Day

For some ___________________ (insert whatever).

Not the bees! An Extraordinary Glimpse into the First 21 Days of a Bee’s Life in 60 Seconds via Colossal.

Don’t eat while looking at this (I did, and my perogies suddenly became less than appetizing). From the Merrylin Cryptid Museum.


Drastic Silence

Consider this payback, for all the undesirable things that you have done to me in the past. Like it or not, but this will happen . . . My Revenge will soon take flight; you will never know it until your time is up, never see it till it is on top of you, ripping you apart. It will devour you, I think. It might even play with you as you die. I cannot say for certain. Which is rather unfortunate, but I digress.

All I did was hatch the thing. Then I told it what to do; I gave it something that was once yours, for the smell. Then I gave it your picture, for the sight.

That was all. Revenge is fairly easy like that . . . Very low maintenance.

And when you are gone, when Revenge has finally silenced you for good, I think I may sit  back with a glass of wine. Enjoy the good weather. Yes, I think that is a good idea.

The best part of all: everything will be quiet and calm, as if you were never around to disturb my existence.

As if you had never existed yourself.


P.S: I am sure your friends below are toasting to that; they would be crazy not to.


To Be Found . . .

What did it all mean? A whirlwind of emotions gripped at him, threatening to pull him under. Here was he, barely afloat upon that turbulent sea; he was bobbing up and down in swift and fluid motions. He let out a long gasp, almost a moan.

Where would this take him? The sweet warmth, the ecstasy . . . What was there to be found?

For a short while, Da’kiri mulled the thought over in his head. If there was anything to be had at all, what would he have to show for it? A dead human . . . A dead woman?

Something from deep within snapped.


All Kinds of Everything


All Kinds of Everything

I have a zombie apocalypse kit at my house. I’ve got freeze dried food, I’ve got a real deal medical kit, like, a doctor could perform a surgery with this medical kit. I got all kinds of everything.
–Joel Madden


To Those Two . . .

Yes, you, you two.

You must think that I’m stuck up or something.

Or perhaps you should just stop.

I can’t help it if I seem to be watching you out in the public spaces of this miserable town.

(Everybody else does it.)

I’m not that sorry if my determination not to look at you bothers you both either.

It’s not my fault you both look frumpy . . .

Frumpy, old, young couple . . .

Such tragedy.

I’m not going to back down though; I’ve face demons and far worse than

two disgruntled youth.

Yes, although I am young like you.

I’m not like you two at all.

(By the way, disgruntled girl, your disgruntled boyfriend is actually a ghoul,

in case you were wondering what was so great about him:

it’s nothing.

I dated one once . . .)


Late Night Loving


Late Night Loving

Said the spider to the fly,

(before it died)

“Oh Romeo, wherefore art thou?”

And that is how

we’ve come to this,

this tryst,

my dear–

for you are forever mine,

though you may die a thousand times.

(Said the [demon][goblin] to his beloved.)


Silent Possession

Give in now . . .

I will not let you go.

(Let me go. . .)

(I won’t let you go.)



Killer Robot Clan

(Let it be known, that one can only read this to the tune of Row, Row, Row Your Boat. If you don’t, we’ll get you. With love ________________)

Run, run, up the hill

as you silently scream.

The killer robot clan

is out to end your dream.

Run, run, round the bend,

but don’t forget to trip,

The killer robot clan has decided

that your life is at an end!


What Were They Doing?

This past Saturday I had inexplicably found myself night-walking. The time was well after 12 pm (which means that I was technically walking by myself early on a Sunday). I was alone and free; I walked down the empty sidewalks, taking giddy steps and smiling as I did so. There was no one was to judge, no one to make their unfair, incorrect assumptions about me.

There are no stigmas in the night, I thought to myself. It was a good thought, if not weak. If the wrong type of person had suggested it, I would have torn it apart like a wolf. I knew that then as I know that now. Then, it didn’t bother me. There are no stigmas in the night; there were stigmas about the night, and unfair, incorrect assumptions about some of the people who walked it . . . But there were also no people to judge me about it.

Or, no one to incite my anxieties. My insecurities.

Those were the things that the gods in my sub-conscious warned me about. I didn’t want to think about them at the time. So I didn’t. Simple.

I had turned around, after dancing in the middle of the road for what had seemed like an eternity. It was time to go home. I heard the forlorn call of the loon; it echoed off the river (the St. Mary). Something caught my eye, and I glanced down at the sidewalk. A millipede was crawling on the cement, going somewhere, hundreds of little legs propelling it forward. As I came closer and closer to my street, I began to notice that there were thousands of them . . .

. . . Thousands upon thousands, upon thousands upon thousands . . . Millipedes crawling on the side-walk . . . Making their way towards some unknown destination.

That’s when I realized what those sub-conscious gods were desperately trying to say.


Shadow Self


Shadow Self

It is you, but you’ve convinced yourself that you are separate from it. You deny it’s existence, which is fine, but the exact moment it attacks (assuming that you haven’t succeeded at destroying your soul by that time) you will truly be broken. The part of you that you hated will separate itself from you; you’ll then come to understand the true meaning of hollow.

Broken, half the person you once were, a shadow of your former self (because you no longer have your shadow self to protect you), you will be vulnerable to attack . . . Perhaps even possession?

(Do you really want to know?)

(I don’t.)