Lust: A Desire

Lust: a desire for success
in excess.

Early mornings
and late nights,
half-baked, strained
lizard brains.

Bright white,
flashing lights,
stale smells, bland hells,
and watered down caffeine≠

“Learn your lesson yet?”
A simple ask.

A typical response
from an egoist,
an ass.

“All right then!”
Flippant, unconcerned.
Our parliament adjourned.

Back to business:
unhindered mediocrity–
the territory of
draconian alacrity.

Failure comes along dully,
from lack of sleep and wistful dreams.

And a desire for success,
in excess,

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The Enigmatic Monster Project presents: Face

The Enigmatic Monster Project: horror of all flavours

Large White Olive Branch

Written by Jonathan Kruschack

Hello, how are you? Well, I hope. What was your name again, lady? Sorry, I’ll try and remember. I’ve had better days. I think. Thought? It’s hard to remember much since . . . that day. The day, I met that giant. What? Sure, I’ll tell you what I remember, forgive me if it doesn’t make much sense. I didn’t understand it as it was happening until it was over. And I do apologize if I go back and forth with how I describe it with past and present tenses, it just doesn’t seem important now. I’m sure you understand.

The day was going as most of my days went. I was walking along, looking for food and shelter among the green of the jungle, which shaded me from the intense light and heat of the sun. By nightfall, the air was finally cool. I needed to be careful though, even though my armour was tough and strong I am not a fighter. My kind, hide when confronted, curling inside our armour until the aggressor gives up. It works . . . for the most part.

Moving along the dirt I reached the enormous lair of a giant. My kind tells tales of these giants. They are to be avoided. They often attack without provocation, as they are fiercely territorial. I didn’t believe them, though. Why would a giant care about us? And how could they even notice us. I’ve seen them from afar, and even hundreds of miles away they tower over most things, especially us. Hungry, I press onward, climbing the stone of the domicile. It took me hours but I finally got to the first ledge. I could see light, faintly. The ledge was some kind of porthole to the giant’s home. There was a ginormous netting meant to keep my kind out, but it had a tear in it. Apprehensive at first; I thought to run away, the risk not worth it. My stomach growled, though and my foolhardy pride kept my feet planted.

I was brave and I could prove my elders wrong about the giants, maybe even be like one of the truly brave who ventured into other giant’s homes and lived there in secret. Forward went my feet, rhythmically tapping as I scurried along. Upon entering the home, I promptly fell off what I thought to be a cliff. Without time to think about how afraid I was I reflexively hid in my armour, hoping it would cushion my fall. The feeling of the impact was . . . jarring to say the least. But after a few moments not being sure if I was dead or not, I realized I was in fact still breathing. Ceasing my orbicular stance I looked around my surroundings. I was on a ledge again. But the material was different. Not the stone I had climbed or the alabaster wood I’d fallen off of. This was cold, hard and a brownish grey. There was a crevice, which my kind loves as I often seek shelter in them though I could not fit into it. Oh well, what’s over OH NO. GIANT! There is a giant. Oh, please don’t notice me, please.

I had shut my eyes and prepared to curl inside my armour again when I noticed something. I hadn’t been immediately crushed by its mountain-sized fist. In fact, it wasn’t even looking at me. Exhaling, I regained some confidence in my earlier thoughts. It won’t notice me. I’m too small. Laughing at my cowardice, I began to look for food and shelter, as I was confident, not stupid. Unfortunately, there was none. Oh well, plenty of time to SHIT, THE GIANT IS MOVING! I froze. The giant stretched its elongated limbs as it rose from its bizarre throne in front of the light-creating rectangle it manipulated with what I could only assume was magic. The sound of its joints popping was like thunder, and its yawn like the roar of a great beast. Or more accurately, like the roar of a great beast multiplied by a thousand. It stretched its neck to one side then the other, vertebrae grinding loudly. It looked very tired, with its huge eyes barely open. I calmed down slightly but not much as I realized it may just be going to sleep. I resumed moving, albeit very, very slowly. Then the giant turned to face the wall where I was. I watched his brown eyes trail down, again thinking I stature too minuscule for him to care. He seemed very uninterested, which made me feel very good. That feeling died though, as I noticed he was now staring, face devoid of any emotion, at the exact spot I was occupying. Staying incredibly still, the most still I had ever been in my life unless I was asleep, I once more looked at his eyes. They were slowly focusing, fighting his sleepy state. Appropriate, because I was slowly losing any hope of a continued existence, fighting the urge to commit suicide. Please, please don’t see me. I’m not worth it I’m not HE SAW ME! RUN! RUN AND NEVER STOP RUNNING, OH WHY AM I SO SLOW? STUPID, STUPID ARMOUR! STUPID SHORT LEGS! As I cried and cursed myself the giant moved, easily crossing a distance that would’ve taken me hours in the blink of an eye. Panicking, I shut my eyes tight. Hoping for death’s grip to be gentle, quick and painless; alas, he didn’t smash me, though. I opened my eyes. He didn’t look angry. Or scared. Sometimes the giants kill because we startle them. But he didn’t look at me with any malice that I could see. Curiosity? Maybe. Pity? Kind of obligation? Yes, actually. I certainly wasn’t happy. But he did seem as if he had to do whatever he was about to do. I just hoped this task he didn’t like was called ‘Murder The Small Thing’. I saw something I’d never seen before, suddenly. A huge, alabaster rectangle of a soft material. It was flat, and the giant placed it in front of me. Why? I turned away and the giant placed it in my way again. Why, I asked again. He definitely wanted me on it. What could it be? Then I had another one of my great ideas, in a moment of hope. What if it was a makeshift vessel of some sort. A kind of large, white olive branch.

Maybe…maybe I was to be an emissary of peace between our people. Usher in a new age of peace, where we coexist in harmony. So, I stepped onto the white rectangle, finding it very soft. Ah, what comfort. He may not look happy when tired but boy is this giant friendly. He said something, I did not understand it. But there would be time to work out a way to communicate later. Come, my new friend. Let us rest and why is he folding it over me? Oh, he’s sealing me inside it.

I HAVE MADE AN ANOTHER TERRIBLE DECISION! Oh no, oh no, I must find a way out but there’s no way out WHY ISN’T THERE A WAY OUT?! Wait, I know, I’ll just curl into a ball. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. That always works. It has to work. Please, please let it work. He’s lifting me up. Carrying me, but where? I can’t see out. Maybe he’ll take me outside his home and release me? Oh, how foolish I was. He carried me very quickly and then let gravity take me. I fell for what seemed like ages, and then I landed in a lake. At least I think it was a lake. The water was very cold. Wait, is he drowning me? I can’t get out of here and the material is taking on water and HE IS DROWNING ME? Is that why he looked unhappy? He didn’t want to smash me but knew he couldn’t let me live, so he gave me this for a death? A watery grave? THAT DUMB, GIGANTIC BASTAR–what was that noise? Why am I spinning? The water was rising very fast. Oh no, I thought. This is it. With my last gulp of air I curled into a ball but as usual, it did me no good. I was rushed down with the water, wherever it was going. I knew it wasn’t taking very long but when you’re drowning it feel like an eternity. Then, I lost consciousness and true blackness took me.

And when I…awoke, is an appropriate word for this, right? Okay, when I awoke I felt no pain. And there was no water or giants. Only you . . .

Just you lady with your robe and your big grin; I guess I can’t really call that a grin. Yeah, you totally do need lips for that. Oh well, I still like you. Nice robe by the way. I like the way it compliments your sharp, shiny thing on that curvy stick. Thanks for waking me up, by the way. So, what’s this place you’re always going on about? The sunless-lands, huh? Sounds neat. Hey, how come I hear wings?

Sorry About Your Dad, written by P.L Cobb with art by Jake Zaccaria

Rings of Hel

Within the rings of hel,
The daemons dwell,

Ruled by the seven lords–
the daemon hordes.

Only shall you enter their realms
through twin rings, or brass bells.

But they shall abide no man, nor child, nor woman–
all mortals banned.

No sweet breath of air, or fresh drop of dew
from the mountains to the deserts to the oceans blue,
not one mortal, be they old or new.
They shall not abide by me, they shall not abide by you.
If we are caught, we shall die. That much is true.

What are they, the daemons of yore?
Who are their masters, who are their lords?
Too many questions asked, and many more
riddles given, but no absolutes, just wives tales and folk lore.

The King out of Darkness
within the shadow beckons.

In silence the dead one awaits us,
the Warrior of Two Worlds.

The Ashen Queen sits tirelessly
guarding the front gate,

While a Golden Spider
deftly plays with fate.

Stalking the river beds,
the Fisherman thirsts for blood.

A Virgin Red
makes men out of mud.

And a Father of Madness
bewitches the wary wanderer.

photography, writing, horror, weird, fiction

A Spayed Goat

A spayed goat leads the march

of crippling genocides.

My how the times are changing!

Tireless slaves.

Ringing of metal, banging and clanging.

As the grand army marches forward,

backwards progressing.

Who needs a home anyway?

Burn, burn, burn–

–The baby is the devil:

A clichéd mockery; sly, evil,

but twisted nonetheless.

All hail the Salamander King.

Bow before him on backwards knees.

All our troubles starting with

(an imagined?)

Spayed goat?

(It’s more than I hoped.)

The Monstrosity Evolves

The Monstrosity Evolves, by P. L. Cobbweird |wi(ə)rd|


suggesting something supernatural; uncanny: the weird crying of a seal.

informal very strange; bizarre: a weird coincidence | all sorts of weird and wonderful characters.

archaic connected with fate.

Today is November 18th.
There is nothing special about this day, nothing to distinguish it from the others. On November 18th, 2015 we took a look at the very first post by the Enigmatic Monster Project, which would be fitting. In 2013 our humble little project took root in the strange and frightening world known as the internet. We started out as a horror blog, but then realized we were too strange even for that . . . Do we get a cookie for this?

Probably not.

Back to the topic at hand: we started out as a horror blog, and realized that we were actually a weird fiction blog. We’ve touched upon this topic earlier, so we’ll keep this short and sweet for you.

The Enigmatic Monster Project will always be free for you, and we’ll be sure to share all of our monster lovin’ with the world. The Enigmatic Monster Project will feature original weird fiction and art/photography.

Soon it’s going to be 2016.

2016 means Sault Ste. Misery. Don’t forget to write that down somewhere . . .

Thanks for all the likes and views!

Keep it monstrous!

Miss Goop

Miss Goop, by P. L. Cobb

We’re ushering in yet another Monday with this weeks free colouring sheet!

Sweet Feet

That delightful aroma

which makes it way to me;

the smell of your feet

makes my heart beat


Treat me to those delightful appendages.

Make me their master.

I must have a taste of

those sweet feet

of yours.

Give them all to me,

and we can have our

happily ever after.


Dihydrogen Monoxide

Dihydrogen Monoxide, story and photography by P. L. Cobb

We drink and we eat you!

Dihydrogen Monoxide

you sly devil, you!

You’ve struck fear into

the masses


it’s true!

We drink and we eat you

Soon we will become you too.

One second–we’re 60% there, you say?

In the end, we are your pawns!

There Was a Time

There was a time when I could talk to you. Where did all our words go? All the things we used to say to each other: the curses, the secrets, the knowledge of a time long past? I used to admire you, but now that admiration has turned into disgust; if you are not the same as you were before, then who are you now?

Who is this new daemon you have become?

Or did you really die?

Someone told me you died, but I still don’t believe it. When I hear the truth from your mouth I’ll know. In the mean time I shall have to be content with penning this letter, and more. There is always more when I get involved. You should know this Da’Kiri, we grew up together, so unless you have died you have no excuse.

You can imagine my surprise at the rumours which surround you. Da’Kiri dying? Ever since we were young someone has always tried to kill you-and failed to do so. Survival is in your blood. It’s what marks your kind: the will to live, the ambition . . . The strong desire to dominate everything. Perhaps it’s all a lie and you are still here with us. But then you are not yourself, and I am disgusted. Perhaps I am being unfair. If you have changed you clearly have good reason for it; I know you are not stupid.

What happened to you, old friend? Could the reason be related to your failed marriage to . . . That woman? You know how the saying goes: a mortal does not a good daemon make. Forgive me of my ignorance to that particular situation. I couldn’t possibly know of the finer details surrounding your relationship; I realize that you would not have proposed, let alone entered into, such a contract if you did not have strong feelings for her.  Perhaps I am wrong, and the rumours are just that-rumours. I haven’t seen you in a long, long time . . .

That says something, doesn’t it?

I had the privilege of running into one of your older siblings recently. We got to talking, and naturally the topic of your old lover came up. Is it true that you two were betrothed at one point? I honestly never knew. Your sibling didn’t go into much detail about the other woman; you fooled around with her while you were married, and your wife disappeared. They did express surprise though, surprise at the fact that you fooled around with the other woman while you were married. I assumed that you and your former lover had a falling out of sorts. Needless to say, your sibling was not fond of your former lover or your former wife.

They claimed that they had driven you mad. You. Of all creatures it had to be you who lost his mind.

We were all young once. We made mistakes . . . Oh what mistakes! But we grew up in our own times. I must admit that I began to distance myself from you . . . You grew up too fast. I cannot blame you for that; again, it is in your blood. I assume you noticed, or else you would have said something. Or maybe you were so busy that you didn’t care.

You’ve always had a hollow heart, Da’Kiri.

Perhaps I have answered my question within my ramblings. You were so accustomed to having a hollow, empty heart. You let people in, your lover, your wife, and your children.

And that was too much for you. They all hurt you! You, being so used to having to rely upon yourself, became disappointed. Disenchanted. You poisoned yourself. You wanted what you could never have, and it burned you.

It burned you!

Do you not see the irony? A proper fire-breather such as yourself being burned . . . By a creature that was once human.

There was a time when you feasted upon their blood. When did you become so soft?


Hey Girl–

Hey Girl–, words and art by P. L. CobbHey girl,

we could partake

in the dark arts


Alabaster Wight

Alabaster Wight was in the kitchen that day, spreading out cobwebs and knocking the salt and pepper shakers across the expensive flooring. Being a professional home-wrecker was a delightful but tedious line of work. She had begun to hum a funeral dirge to herself when there was a knock at the back door.

Alabaster Wight stopped to stare at that door.

Again: Knock. Knock!

“Who’s there?” she called out. Her voice was as dead and monotonous as it was the day she had died.

“It’s me, Grumpy! Let me in Alabaster, or I’ll blow this house up with you inside!”

“Screw you,” Alabaster Wight shot back. “I’m already dead.”

There was a pause. “Oh! Well in that case–” there was a distinct click.

Alabaster cursed as the floor beneath her gave way, swallowed up in flames. She could have sworn that she had heard her nemesis shout: “Have fun down there!” When she found a way out of this mess, she swore that she would give the wizard who had summoned her severe whiplash. Or a tongue-lashing.

Alabaster Wight’s days as a professional home-wrecker were over, starting today.

To be continued! 

Our benovelent/malevolent overlord, Theo Monster

Silf Turns Into a Man

Silf Turns Into a Man, writing and art by P.L. Cobb

Killer alien-human hybrid comes to town

Finds no decent men to mate with.

Turns into a man to mate with the women.

(Still a better love story than Twilight.*)

This says more about the men in that city than it does the hybrid.


How about that?

No hybrid love for you, I guess.

*Everything’s a better love story than Twilight, we just like to pour salt into the wound.


Spider, Spider

Spider, Spider, writing and art by P.L. Cobb

Where will you hide the body now?

Spider, spider

On the wall

The things you’ve seen would make me sick

Those things . . . My skin would crawl

My face would melt . . . Fluids oozing . . . My body slick . . .

Spider, spider

Where will you hide the body now?

Our benovelent/malevolent overlord, Theo Monster

Friday the 24th

Friday the 24th, photography by P.L. Cobb

Friday the 24th; that’s when my sister came rolling in. Except she wasn’t my real sister. The real one had left Sault Ste. Misery years ago. I liked my real sister. The person she had been replaced with was something else. She was one of those people, the kind of people you use air-quotation marks for when they end up in conversations.

Honestly, I think she’s the devil.

Our benovelent/malevolent overlord, Theo Monster

Tea Cup Drama

Tea Cup Drama, story and art by P. L. Cobb

I’ll serve it in my favourite cup . . . Come on mama, drink it up!

Hey there mama,

wanna piece of the drama?

I’ll serve you up something–it’s not hot

it’s not cold.

It’ll make you feel young

before you die old.

I’ll serve it in my favourite cup . . .

Come on mama, drink it up!

Our benovelent/malevolent overlord, Theo Monster

The Wind

The Wind, story and art by P. L. Cobb

I’m afraid, she finally admitted to herself. I am so afraid of . . . Of this place . . . And this–stranger. Or this person?

The wind whistled in her ears; she was cold and her jaw hurt, but she didn’t care. It was nice to stand in the sun. She closed her eyes. Behind her eyelids she saw something block out the light.

“Do you like this?” Someone said in an indescribable voice. It had not clear gender.

“It’s nice,” she answered. Her eyes stayed closed. The cold touch of the stranger’s hand caressed her cheek. Continue reading

Inter-dimensional Sailor

Inter-dimensional Sailor, writing and photography by Penny C.

Inter-dimensional sailor . . .

Story and art by P. L. Cobb

Inter-dimensional sailor


One that slays the moon

Quarter by quarter

Tied to limbo

But everywhere

Except for home


Sorry About Your Mom

Sorry About Your Mom, written and photographed by Penny C.

Sorry you had to grow up in fantasy land.

Writing and photography by P. L. Cobb

Sorry about your mom.

Sorry she tried to eat you when you were two.

Continue reading

A Brief Trip to Mars

A Brief Trip to Mars, written and photographed by Penny C.

When he had touched down on the surface of Mars Carlson took out a book-shaped bundle.

Writing and photography by P. L Cobb

Up, up, up. Carlson ascended into the heavens, passing clouds, passing through the ozone layer. Someone must have seen him on his journey upwards; he wasn’t travelling very fast. That thought quickly turned to other, more important things as the vacuum of space pulled at him. Carlson let out a sigh, knowing that it was his own spell that protected him from a sudden and brutal death. Continue reading

Soup #2

Soup #2, written and photographed by Penny C.

Dinner is served!

Writing and photography by Penny C.

The imp smiles

While you pine,

And spoil

Melting away

As you boil.

Dinner is served!


I Am Weird Now

I Am Weird Now, writing and photography by Penny C.

My hands are my feet, my arms are now wings.

Writing and photography by Penny C.

I have no idea what I’m doing here.

Up and down have changed directions;

Now they’re left and right. Continue reading

Kingdom of the Cats

Written by Penny C.

Kingdom of the Cats:

Headless birds,

Headless rats.

All is a foul stink.

Filth between your toes.


The Kingdom of the Cats.

P.S: I have nothing against cats, even if they are out to get us.