Blood Moon Rising Magazine

Issue #55 Featured Fiction

For Aspiring Writers and Artist Heaven . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 6
by Benjamin Thierfelder
First of Year Issue 2014 Dust to Dust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 9
by Mark Slade
Staff The Hunger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 19
Publisher: AL Vermette by Arnaldo Lopez Jr.
Editor / Writer: William Pratt Return of the Black Knight . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 23
Editor / Writer: D.W. Jones by John Michael Osborne
Writer: Dark Soul The Graveyard Estate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 36
Writer: Kraven The She Wolf by Steven Mamo
The Creature at the Wharf . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 37
Writer: Rose Titus
by Benjamin Lerario
Special Correspondent: Robert Freese Dreamshadows. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 49
Intern: Andrew Davis by Rose Titus
The Suicide Note of Jeremiah Carter . . . . . page 52
BMR Logo Enhancement: Danny Jones by David Catney
Cover Art: Artwork from movie Sinister Vision Tuesdays at 7pm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 59
by Allen Yoakum
Contributing Artists: Sandy Reece Geo Goes Home . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 61
by Karoly Lencses
The Basement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 69
Departments by C.V. Hack
Blood Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 3 What Waits in the Darkness . . . . . . . . . . . page 71
by Keanue Ross-Cabrera
Nightmare News . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 5
Graveyard Cinema . . . . . . . . . . . page 14
Creature Feature . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 34 Dark Poetry
The Golem Dark of the Home, The New Witch, The Tyrant
Nightmare Gallery . . . . . . . . . . . . page 48 King . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 54
Interviews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 30 by Matthew Wilson
Kim Sonderholm Dir. of Sinister Vision . . page 30 Night Nuptial, Untitled . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 55
Special Features . . . . . . . . page 17, 43, 68 by Sharla Anderson
Behind the Screams Bloodfest 10 Disintegration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 73
Halloween Event . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 17 by Gary Hewitt
Ten Years of Bloodfest History . . . . . . . . . page 40
Review of Scream for Halloween 2 . . . . . . page 68
The Rose Files . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .page 43
Creatures of the Night Move to Suburbs
Terror Tube . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 56
Bloody Book Reviews . . . . . . . . . page 66
BLOOD NOTES
By Publisher/ Creator AL J. Vermette

Welcome to Blood Moon Rising Issue #55 our first issue of 2014. Within this issue you will
get to read all about our two Halloween events “Blood Fest 10” and “Scream For Halloween 2” that
we hosted this past October 19th and 26th. One was in New York, BMR’s home turf and the other
was moved from NYC to the Orlando area where I have been living the past few months. Both
events were fun to do and you can read about both right here in Issue #55

As you may know, I was going to host and run a Halloween Haunted Woods and attraction
in Mount Dora Florida this past October. Although the event was booked and set for the six months
leading up until October, things started falling apart around mid September and the event never
happened. It all fell apart due to the partner I had for the event and the venue’s owner. I saw that
things were not going well when the venue’s owner was always going away and never around. The
other was just a fuck up with crazy ideas and crazy thinking. When I brought the advertising posters
that I designed and built to the venue in early September to be hung up and get a buzz going, they
were never put out. They were put into a shed the day I brought them there and when I returned to
bring more signs a week later… they were still in the shed and never hung up for people to know that
a haunted attraction was going to be at that location. The real shame was that this was a working flea
market with over a 1.000 people attending each weekend. Posters on location were all we needed
to get people to know that was coming in October. But no posters were set out and I had no help in
getting anything going for it.

…..And here’s the funny thing about it all too….that they brought me on to help them
produce this event and then did nothing to let me get it going when it was time to get it up and
started. Shame too…it was going to be really a great event but things happen and it ended before
I could make the event open to the public. Oh well it was their loss and I moved on.

…..And so when that idea ended that same day I booked “Scream For Halloween 2” at “The
Bar” in Ocoee Florida. The funny thing is after last years nightclub party event, I didn’t think I was
going to do another one. I was going to do the Haunted Woods Attraction and so didn’t plan on
being part of a Halloween party again….at least this year but as fate had it, I did and it was a great
party event. Glad I did it. With only less than a month to pull it off, I talked with the venues owner
and told him of my idea and what we did last year in a Manhattan nightclub. He liked the idea and
so “Scream For Halloween 2” was set in motion.

Living in Florida made it a little……well really a bitch getting to “Blood Fest” this
year.....but I didn’t want to have the 10th Anniversary to go on without me. And so I made the
12.000 mile drive up to New York along with my new little kitten named Pumpkin beside me all the
way. She turned out to be the shows mascot and was a hit every time I brought her out on stage.
Everyone loved her back stage too. And with her being a black cat too, made her the right fit to
mascot a Halloween show. It’s hard to believe that we have been doing that show for now ten years
but it was fun and enjoyed by all who made the show. Please read all about both events in this issue
of “Blood Moon Rising.”

Speaking of my little Pumpkin……here she is little soon after I found her as a stray. She was
so little that I had to teach her to eat and she could hardly walk. But now she is getting big and has
become a little Hell Cat around the house.

By the time you are reading this, the wheels will be in motion for our next big event. “The
Creepy Freaky Film Fest” will be the world’s first outdoor horror film festival. Set under the
moonlight, this event will not only show movies but will also have a Haunted Maze and Scare Trail
as well. Our guests will be brought in by horse and wagon as creatures surround them on all sides
along with an attack by The Headless Horseman and our on-site Minotaur El Diablo. Check with
our web site for more info on this very unique film festival from Blood Moon Rising Horror
Magazine.
Dark Soul’s
NIGHTMARE NEWS
Bleed all About It

Welcome to the first issue of 2014.

We here at Blood Moon Rising had a sort of
Friday the 13th kind of luck when our main
computer crashed and burned on our web
master and fiction editor D.W. Jones. Poor
D.W. has been fighting to get this new issue
up on our site for you all and thanks to his
masterly of computers we are up and BMR
is alive once more. But also due to that, it
In TV news, you have Teen Wolf,
will be a shorten nightmare news
Supernatural, The Vampire Diaries, The
Originals, Grimm and Dracula on basic TV.
Up coming horror films of 2014 will
On Cable TV, The Walking Dead returns this
be this year is Nurse 3D, which is about a
Feb. There are a couple of new shows on
nurse by day and killer of cheaters by night,
the Syfy channel that just started. They are
just in time for Valentine’s Day. Vampire
Bitten, a werewolf show and Helix, a show
Academy has been described as Twilight
about man playing god and paying the
meets X-Men. A Haunted House 2, starring
consequences.
Marlon Wayans, is a comedy horror sequel
to last year’s movie. Also coming out is,
So enjoy the above while trying to
Raze, Devils Due, Clown and a new
keep warm this winter!
Resident Evil #6 are coming our way.
 Heaven
By Benjamin Thierfelder
“Welcome to heaven.” Paul Dodson
pulled his hands from his face as the angel
spoke to him. He slowly glanced up and stared
at her for a long while, completely in awe of this
magnificent being. She was tall and imposing,
looming over him like some great idol of long
ago. Her skin was a tanned color, her hair a
silky white just like her majestic robes and long
feathery wings. When she spoke her words
were clear as crystal, each tone like the ringing
of a bell. Her bright eyes leveled upon him,
fixing him in her firm gaze. He felt both afraid
and humbled by this creature and couldn’t help
but fall to his knees in prayer.
Kneeling there, Paul couldn’t be any
more different from her. He was short, pudgy
and balding. What little was left of his brown
hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead and his
blue eyes were bleary and bloodshot. He wore
a burnt and soiled blue suit that was streaked
with mud and blood, a once fine garment
destroyed in a fiery car crash. He finished his
prayer and lifted his gaze back up to her.
“I… I’m in heaven?” he asked, his husky
voice barely above a whisper.
“Correct. You died in a car crash while
commuting to your home after trying to merge
onto a freeway. You had thought that the bigger
truck would move out of its way for you. He
didn’t and you both died in the accident.”
“So… I’m really dead?”
“Yes.” The angel affirmed.
“No. No that can’t be. I… my wife was
making a pot roast and she called me to pick up
some gravy…”
“It is difficult to accept one’s mortality.”
The angel said with a gentle sympathy.
“This must be a dream.” He said to
himself.
“It is real.”
“No! Not its not it can’t be… it can’t
be…” he desperately tried to protest.
“Yes, it is.” The angel gave him a sad
look and turned around and motioned to heaven.
“Do not fret any longer, Paul Dodson. You are
dead and you must let go of your mortal coil.
You are here not and will be forevermore. You
have earned your place in this paradise so come
along. Let me show you around.”
Heaven was beautiful, just as he
imagined. Paul was raised Catholic and at first
it looked exactly as he expected. The azure sky
was vast and stretched for eternity. Perfect soft
clouds filled the sky and the emerald fields of
gentle green grass covered the ground.
Mountains, lakes, oceans, forests, hills and
every type of majestic and pleasant piece of
earthen scenery existed in heaven. Cities new
and old rose and shrank in every direction.
People of many different types and places
moved about back and forth while glorious
angels flew above them, watching over their
flock and guiding them to their destinations.
Everything seemed far away, yet with a simple
thought could be brought to him. Heaven was a
pleasant place, a paradise he always dreamed
about. Finally, it was a reality.
When they had finished Paul looked up
at the angel and asked. “What do I do now?”
“Whatever you wish. You have earned
your place in this paradise. Enjoy your reward.
she answered.
“Thank you. Thank you so much!” Paul
fell to his knees in front of her. “I don’t know
what to say, but I do have one question.”
“Speak.”
“Can I talk to God?” The angel smiled
and gently shook her head.
“No. No one may speak to God but me.”
Paul raised a finger in protest, but before the
words left his mouth, she was gone.
Heaven truly was paradise, for whatever
he desired he was given. Paul spent the first few
days just walking about, taking it all in.
Whenever he grew hungry, whatever food he
desired appeared before him. When he was
thirsty, his beverage of choice was on hand. If
he was tired, a bed, hammock or any other
sleeping arrangement appeared. With a mere
thought he summoned great palaces and ancient
monasteries. He walked through great
mountains, sailed heaving seas, lazily napped as
he fished by lakes and dined in every bar, tavern
and restaurant he ever wished too. Friends
appeared at his slightest whim to entertain him,
family came and they had great laughs and
tender moments. He relieved memories and
reenacted wishes and desires he never was able
to fulfill during his life. Suddenly the short,
chubby and socially awkward kid from school
became the star athlete, the charismatic
musician, and the class clown… whatever role
he wanted to play. He always scored the
winning point, always got the girl, always saved
the day.
Time passed, and after reliving the
idealized version of his life over and over, his
fantasies became more elaborate. He became a
super hero, a race car driver, a star football
player, an action hero, a cowboy, a knight…
whatever he wished. He created sets and places,
his own films where he was the star. After
growing bored of each fantasy he moved onto
the next. Not all of his fantasies were so
sentimental, though. Many were visceral too.
Over time he realized that nothing, absolutely
nothing was barred from him. He was able to
indulge in his every sexual fantasy with
whomever he imagined. His wife, women he
coveted, movie stars, adult film actresses, even
some of the angels he saw became his willing
and compliant slaves. No one ever said no to
anything he asked, no matter how strange or
bizarre or demeaning.
Paul grew even more violent with his
fantasies. Bullies of his youth were beaten,
teachers who had demeaned him made fools,
pedestrians and people he hated became the
targets of his pent up wrath. As the days passed
Paul grew increasingly dark with his actions.
Why not? No one told him not to, or even
hinted that he shouldn’t. Everyone he met,
every person he created just nodded and agreed
with everything he said and did. No one
showed any disapproval. Even the angels just
seemed to smile as he descended deep into his
psyche, pulling out very suppressed and dark
emotion and living through it. Though he was
able to indulge his every whim, Paul grew
increasingly despondent. No matter what he did
he found it harder and harder to get into the roll,
to feel for it. The fantasies and the cathartic
moments no longer seemed to satisfy him. Why
would they? They weren’t real, just
conjurations he made to amuse himself. He
wasn’t really the action star, really getting the
girl, really the hero of the day. He was just
Paul, that same pathetic man he had been the
moment before death.
One day, after finishing one of his
fantasies, he looked down at the blood on his
hands and over at the group of woman he had
conjured to fulfill his desires and had an
epiphany. He realized he didn’t feel anything
anymore. He was numb to every fantasy, and
even pain he inflicted upon himself just to feel
something, anything, just didn’t register. So his
world became darker and darker in a desperate
attempt to feel something. He found himself
doing things he never imagined he would. Am
I evil? He asked himself. This isn’t me! Why
am I doing these things?
“You do them because you can.” A
voice, that angel, answered his thoughts.
“Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts
absolutely. It is merely a conduit to the
darkness in your heart.”
“But… but this isn’t me! This place is
changing me!” he protested.
“Is it?” The angel took a step before him,
her eyes staring accusingly into his soul. “Paul
Dodson, who were you in life? You were a man
who always looked out for yourself and used matter how hard you try. You will feel no sense
what power you had to belittle others. You of growth, of progress, of victory or even defeat.
always acted in your own self-interest, You have earned your place in this paradise.”
regardless of what it meant to those around you. She said firmly.
You were an accountant who embezzled “Please… I don’t want to be here
thousands from an ailing woman. Those bullies anymore. Take me away! I have sinned but I
you so hated? You used your influence in repent.”
business to ruin their lives and felt justified by “It’s too late.” She smiled again, always
it, even though the pain brought upon them was with that pleasant smile. “Well, since you
brought upon their families as well. You were finally understand allow me to introduce myself.
unfaithful to both of your wives and you My name is Lucifer. Welcome to hell.”
abandoned you children to avoid the
responsibility of raising them. You treated
everyone with contempt and belittled those you
saw as weaker. You felt victimized by those About Benjamin Thierfelder: I am aspiring
you saw as evil, yet turned around and put the writer of novels, short stories, screenplays and
same evil on others. You are evil.” videogame scripts. I’m still working to get my
“But I always went to church…” first story published though I have a lot of
“Do you believe God forgives those who experience with writing. I recently graduated
don’t believe they have sinned in the first place? from U of M- Dearborn with honors with a
Do you believe God would forgive you for degree in Communications, a broader
something you felt no remorse for? Truly, the Journalistic concentration. While at school I
word of God was lost on you.” wrote several novels, short stories and poems.
The angel cast her hand aside to the I also worked for Schoolcraft College’s
beautiful paradise behind them. “Your human Connection paper as the Arts and Entertainment
lives are filled with pain, yet it is that pain, that Editor where I wrote several book, music,
struggle, that defines you. What is pleasure concert, movie and video game reviews as well
without pain? What is success without failure? as did interviews.
What is victory without struggle? You humans
waste you lives looking to heaven when Gods
greatest gift is here on earth. Love, growth,
family, success… these are things that are
important. If you are given whatever you wish
without earning it than such gifts feel hollow,
even pointless.” Her eyes grew suddenly dark.
“Now you are beginning to understand, are you
not Paul Dodson? You are here because you
spent your life only caring for yourself.
Therefore, this place is yours and yours only.”
Paul backed away from the angel, her
once beautiful visage now terrifying.
“You can do whatever wish till the end
of time, but it will be an existence without pain
because, without pain, you can no longer feel
pleasure. Nothing will ever satisfy you, no
 Dust To Dust
By Mark Slade
There was a pale blue box sitting on the
counter in a shop that Francis and her friend Jan
came in by accident.
They stood at the door, looking about the
cluttered place. Francis wasn't keen on staying.
She felt claustrophobic. Dust floated about in
the air, which always caused Francis skin to
itch, and her nose to twitch. Jan wandered
around touching books stacked above her head
and different pieces of pottery with missing
parts. She found a record trough and
immediately began thumbing through them.
Francis didn't move an inch, for fear of catching
scurvy or worse.
“Look at this,” Jan said shaking her
head. “My mother's vinyl collection. Nothing
worse than Rick Astley.” She looked up at
Francis. “Oh no. Your not having one of your
germ fits again.”
“I'm not moving an inch until we leave.”
Francis' face tightened in a frown.
“Your hopeless.” Jan went back to
flipping through the records.
“You said this was a shoe store.”
Francis said in a huff. Francis looked at the sign
that hung above her. HAVERTY'S
CURIOSITY SHOP, the sign said. Francis
clucked her tongue and shook her head.
Jan was still preoccupied with the
records, picking one up every few seconds
reading the contents on the back of the jacket.
“I guess I was wrong, then.”
“This is ridiculous, Jan. I want to
leave.” Francis stamped her feet.
“If you want to leave, leave. Wait in the
car for me.”
Francis looked at the door, her face fell.
She sighed. “You know I can't do that.” It was
true. Francis could only walk through a closed
door if someone did it first. A bad habit she
developed after her husband Mick left her six
months ago. When she and Jan have to work,
Jan picks her up in the mornings, Jan has to go
out the door first.
Jan walked away from the record trough.
“Alright. You really need to see a psychiatrist
about this problem. Well, problem among
problems----”
“Wait!” Francis eyes moved to the
counter where the cash register was. “What’s
that over there,” she pointed at the pale blue
box. She rushed to the counter.
“You are too freakin' weird, Francis
Scofeild.!” Jan followed Francis, shaking her
head. “It looks like an ordinary cigar box.”
“I don't think so......” Francis moved to
touch the box when a man popped out from
behind a curtain that separated the rooms.
“Don't touch that!” The man cried out in
a shrill voice.
Francis and Jan jumped. “Where did
you come from?” Jan said, catching her breath.
Francis asked a more important question.
“Why can't we touch it?” Francis was intrigued
by the box. “Is it for sale?”
“You want to buy a cigar box?” Jan
cackled. The man winced. “You are so weird.”
The tall man wore a black pinstripe suit
and white bow tie, took a comb from his breast
pocket, combed his thick bushy mustache. “If
you touch that box, it becomes attached to you.
It will never leave your side.” He then ran the
comb through his greasy receding hairline.
Jan cackled again, a noise that could
pierce eardrums. The man winced, he turned
two evils to Jan, who at once backed away from
the counter.
“And yes,” the man said to Francis in a
whisper. “For the right price.”
Francis nodded, studying the pale blue
box. “What's inside, “ She said after a few
moments.
 The man shrugged uneasily. “I---I---I
don't know.”
“You don't know, “ Jan said mockingly.
“C'mon, Francis. Let's leave.” Jan took Francis
by the arm to lead her out. Francis pulled away,
went back to the counter. “Francis. Let's
leave.” She said it in that Motherly tone that
Francis always hated.
“Surely you know the contents of this
box. You know about every item you sell,”
Francis said to the man.
He shook his head. “Not this. The
owner, Mr. Haverty. He won't tell me what’s in
it. And I've learned the hard way not to
question him.” The man pulled his sleeve on
his coat to reveal a discolored skin and a burn
mark of three interlocking circles.
“What happened there?” Francis moved
away from the man's arm, worried it might be
catching.
“I lit some candles I was not suppose to.”
The man closed his eyes to rid himself of the
painful memory. “Only one. Before Mr.
Haverty stopped me from lighting the rest.”
Jan clucked her tongue. “It just looks
like a freaky tattoo to me.”
The man cut his eyes at Jan. “That's
what I get for not listening to Mr. Haverty.”
“Where is Mr. Haverty? Is he in?” Jan
said.
“No, he is not. Are you interested in
buying this box,” he said. “It's two hundred
dollars.”
“C'mon Francis, he's conning you.” Jan
tried again to take Francis arm. Francis shook
her off.
“I want this,” she told Jan confidentially.
“I don't know why.....I just do......I'm......drawn
to it.”
At this point Jan was considering having
her friend committed. But she also took pity on
her. She had only Jan and the job in the office,
that was it. Jan let out a deep sigh. She
touched her friend's elbow. “Okay, dear.”
Approval is what she needs now, approval she'll
get, Jan thought.
“Give me two hundred dollars, then.”
Francis held out her hand with a huge smile on
her face.
*****
Francis was sitting on the couch, just
staring at the pale blue box on her coffee table.
She hadn't opened the box at all. She was very
curious, but remembered what the man in the
gift shop said. Still, she wanted to know what
was inside.......
She picked up her cell phone and called
Jan. It rang twice, went straight voice mail.
Francis closed the lid on her phone and thought
a moment. She stood, slowly ambled to the
kitchen. She grabbed a bag of chips and turned
to head back to the living room when she saw
the box sitting on the kitchen table.
“Boy, that guy wasn't kidding. Touch it,
and it won't leave your side,” Francis shrugged
went back to the living room. She sat carelessly
on the couch. The box was back on the coffee
table. “Good grief,” She said.
She quickly dialed Jan again. This time
she answered on the first ring.
“What, Francis? What?” Jan sounded
annoyed.
“It follows me wherever I go, Jan,”
Francis retorted in quick succession.
“I thought your cat ran away.” Jan
yawned.
“I'm not talking about the cat, Jan.”
“What are you talking about?” Jan
yawned again.
“The fucking box!” Francis screamed
into her phone.
“My God,” said Jan. “Do you have to
be so loud? Go to sleep, Francis.”
“It's getting on my nerves. I don't know
what to do,” Francis said frantically.
“Well, I know what I'm going to do,”
Jan said.
 “What's that?” Francis had excitement in
her voice.
“Get some sleep,” Jan hung up.
Francis tossed her cell phone on the
coffee table. “Bitch.”
*****
Jan rang the doorbell of Francis
apartment. She heard Francis call out for her to
enter. Jan saw Francis sitting on the couch, still
in her nightgown.
“What are you doing? We are going to
be late for work.” Jan took a few steps inside,
closed the door. She stopped dead in her tracks
when she saw Francis staring intently at the pale
blue box. “Oh no,” Jan said, sighed. “Francis,
you've been up all night, staring at that stupid
box.” Jan sat next to Francis, letting her fall to
the floor.
“I can't help it. I want so badly to see
what's inside, but I'm afraid of what will happen
if I do.” Francis rubbed her eyes, thinking of
how much she dreaded going to work.
“This is my fault. I shouldn't have took
you to that place. You better get dressed,
Francis. You know how Maggie hates you.
Your always on her shit- list.”
*****
Maggie Frank was the manager at the
call center, and she hated all of the operators.
Their jobs were to answer questions about the
insurances HI-LOW sold. Maggie and her
assistants listened to every call. She critiqued
everyone. But Francis was always the one she
used as an example in every meeting. She was
an extremely harsh woman. The company
allowed a 45 percent success rate how good
customer service and how well the customers
rate you. Maggie's rate was 80 percent. Her
operators mostly had a 65 percent. Francis
received a 35 percent over the last 60 days.
They arrived at the office still arguing
over being late. It was only one other person
there, as the other three operators had quit last
week. Bill, who sat in cubicle next to them, let
them know right away that the dragon lady was
at a meeting, they were safe.
“You girls are damn lucky the dragon
lady is out. Out partying late?” Bill leered at
them. Once at lunch, he had mentioned in
passing of inviting both of them to his place
later that night and having a few drinks that
might lead to something. Needless to say, Jan,
who was driving, left him stranded downtown at
the cafe they were at.
“Shut-up, Bill,” Jan said. “Your mother
still dressing you I see.”
Francis giggled. “I bet he still keeps her
in the basement with the other stiffs he dates.”
Jan cackled. Bill winced, his face
looked as if he ate a lemon. Jan placed her
headset on her head, started up her computer.
She saw the pale blue box sitting on Francis
desk.
“Your kidding me,” Jan said. “Francis,
you brought that box with you?”
Francis made a face. “I told you. That
thing follows me wherever I go. I can't get rid
of it.”
Bill looked at around the corner from his
cubicle. “Smoking cigars now, Francis. How
butch of you.”
Francis crumpled a sheet of typing paper
into a ball and threw it at Bill. It nearly missed
him.
“My headset isn’t working,” Francis
said, rising from desk.
Her elbow brushed the pale blue box. It
fell from her desk and fell on it's side. During
the fall, the lid on the box opened. Francis
looked on in horror, her hand covering her
gaping mouth. Her eyes cut to Jan, then to the
box.
“Oh, God. Oh, God,” She repeated,
trembling.
 Jan went to her side. She looked on,
with that I told you so expression. “Nothing,”
Jan said. Then she cackled. “Nothing in that
stupid box.”
“What's going to happen now?” Francis
was still trembling.
“Nothing, you stupid woman!” Jan
shook her friend violently. Haverty ripped you
off! Wait,” she thought a moment. “He ripped
me off.”
“Haverty?” Bill spoke in a whisper.
“What, Bill? You been there?” Jan said.
Bill shook his head yes. He looked up at
Jan. Francis knelt beside the box and reached
out to touch it. Suddenly, her nose began to
twitch. Her face contorted. She buried her
head in her hands and sneezed.
Bill was lost in his thoughts.
“He sold some candles to my sister,” Bill
said.
“So?” Jan shrugged, started back to her
cubicle.
“He told her not to light the candles.
They found her body burned beyond
recognition. Her house wasn't touched by the
fire.”
At this point, Jan heard a strange, low
grumble from behind her. She cocked her head,
heard it again. No, it wasn't a grumble, but
growling. Like a dog or a wolf.....
Bill let out a shrill cry as Jan turned to
find Francis face to face with her. Francis eyes
had turned a weird milky white. The pupils
were almost non-existent and long purple veins
were pulsating through out her yellow-skinned
face.
Francis threw back her head and several
panic-stricken screams pierced Bill and Jan's
ears.
Bill began sobbing, crawled underneath
his desk. He whispered a prayer he learned in
Sunday school as a child over and over.
Francis grabbed Jan by her blouse and
tossed her to the floor. Jan felt a stinging pain
rise up through her body. Jan tried to get up but
fell back. She looked up and saw Francis
chasing Bill around the office, knocking the
flimsy plastic cubicles over in her trek. Bill
was screaming, calling out for help. Jan
managed pick herself up and rushed towards
Bill. She saw the stationary closet door open.
She waited for Bill to lead Francis to it. Just as
he turned the corner, Jan pushed Francis inside.
She slammed the door shut and tried to hold the
door in place. Jan called for Bill. He ran to her
and helped hold the door. Francis was getting
angrier and angrier, pushing, scratching,
bumping the door as hard as she could. They
heard her cry out like a wounded animal,
followed by several more inhuman screams.
“Push a desk in front of the door!” Jan
commanded.
“He'll do no such thing,” they heard a
voice. The two of them turned and saw Maggie
standing behind them. She was alone.
Unusual. She always had an assistant at her
side. The tall, dark haired woman in her late
forties stepped closer to them, her heels
sounding like a round of bullets fired from a
machine gun. Maggie was the ever
consummate businesswoman. Business suits
that obviously cost more than she could afford
with her paycheck.
“I leave you three alone for twenty
minutes and look......what the hell is going on--
----wait.......where is Francis?” The three of
listened. A growl came from the stationary
closet, nails clawing at the door. “Is she in
there?” Maggie said.
Jan and Bill were silent. Scared out of
their wits of Maggie, knowing their jobs were
over. Maggie ushered them out of the way.
Bill and Jan gingerly moved from the door.
Maggie stepped up and slung the door open.
Before Francis could let out another round of
screams, she sneezed.
A line of white stringy snot covered the
top of Maggie's lips and right cheek.
Maggie was dumbstruck. Francis was
confused. She slowly moved out of the closet.
She saw the mess in the office. She walked About Mark Slade: Hi, my name is Mark
toward Jan and Bill, they immediately backed Slade. I have appeared in Burial day,
away from her. Maggie wiped the snot from her ELECTRIC CHAIR PODCAST, The rusty nail,
face with a hand. She turned on her heels and Anthology You can't kill--I'm already dead,
screamed. Weirdyear. I have my own podcast Dark
“You filthy animal!” Maggie was furious Dreams PodcastI live in Williamsburg,VA with
and embarrassed. “I'll have you jobs for this my wife and daughter.
joke!” She stormed into her office. The echo
from the door slammed shut could be hear
through out the office building.
“What----what-----happened here?”
Francis pointed to the office.
“You don't remember anything?” Jan
looked her over, making sure her friend was
back to normal.
Francis shrugged. “No,” she said.
“What's wrong with Bill?”
Bill was sitting in a corner, his thumb in
his mouth. He was mumbling that prayer and
rocking back and forth.
At the end of the day, they had calmed
Bill and cleaned up the office. Maggie hadn't
stepped out of her office all day. Jan and
Francis were getting ready to go home when Bill
reminded them of the pale blue box under
Francis desk.
Jan reached down and picked it up.
With much joy and relief, she stuffed the
wooden box into a trash can.

*****

Inside her office, Maggie was sitting at

her desk, stewing. The purple veins pulsated as
they formed long deep creases in her body. Her
eyes were a milky white.
The echo of several inhuman screams
could be heard all through the empty office
building.
Graveyard Cinema
By Dark Soul
Curse of Chucky

5 Gravestones

Oh yeah, that’s right, the killer doll known as Chucky is back and ready to kill anyone and
everyone in sight. …..Just the way we like him. It’s been nearly ten years since Seed of Chucky hit
theaters and you may have missed his new outing for the little killer since this new film was the first
not released to theaters and went right to DVD.

Curse of Chucky takes place all in one location, the home of a wheel chair bound young
woman and her mother. When an unknown package comes in the mail, it’s opened to discover an
old 25 year old Good Guy Doll inside the box. Guess who this is? ….and soon the blood flows.
Soon after his arriving, mom is taken out by the little manic and on a dark stormy night the young
woman’s sister comes along with her husband, little girl and the child’s live in nanny. The child
takes a shine to the Good Guy Doll and soon again the blood flows as the doll takes out the family
one by one.

This is classic Chucky in all his gory glory and just the way we love him. Unlike Bride of
Chucky and Seed of Chucky, this new film plays it a little more straight up terror. Where the last
two films added a bit of comedy to them, this one has no humor but just a blood bath. But unlike
the last two films and more like the Childs Play movies, Chucky is more of a co-star and not the
leading actor where he and Tiffany carried the last two movies. I know that there had been talk
about a Child’s Play remake and when I discovered this film, my first impression was that this was
it….but I was happy to discover that it was not and is the 6th addition in the Chucky/ Childs Play
series. In-fact this film marks the 25th Anniversary of the 1988 first Chucky film Child Play.
The movie is not a direct follow-up to Seed of Chucky but as the story unfolds we discover
that the Good Guy Doll is the same Chucky from the last two movies when he pulls off his rubbery
face to revel the staple stitching we know from Bride and Seed. In-fact Tiffany makes a near the end
appearance as well in her human form but not explained how or why. If you are a fan of the Chucky
movies you will enjoy this one as well. I know I did.
Solomon Kane

5 Gravestones

Based on the stories by author Robert Howard, Solomon Kane tells the story of a man…..a
very bad man who after an encounter with The Devils Reaper tries to live a life of peace and
serenity. But no chance of that and when a family he has taken up with are attacked and murdered
by a band of black eyed thugs, Kane must put aside his feeling for peace and once again do what he
is good at…..killing.

You may think that this is a straight up action movie and well, it is. Not a horror film but
does have its share of monsters that Kane must battle. He faces off with The Devil’s Reaper who
wants his soul. He has a run in with a hoard of zombies and must fight a 25 foot fire monster along
with lots of sword play and cool fight scenes. If you enjoy your action with heroes battling creatures
and other bad fellows, then you would like this film.

Pacific Rim: Reviewed by AL J. Vermette

100 Gravestones

So ok, we don’t really rate our movie reviews with that many Gravestones but this movie
more than should have it. Not a horror movie but if you love giant monsters fighting giant robots
like me….well then this movie is a nerds true wet dream. When I was a little about 4 years old, I
would take all my toy robots and have them fight my rubber monsters in a battle to the death. Now
I have seen my playtime turned into the movie Pacific Rim and it brought me back to my childhood.
(not that I really had grown up)

Pacific Rim tells the story of a riff that opens in the deep waters of the Pacific ocean where
a time doorway has opened and creatures of enormous size are coming forth and attacking the cities
of the world. To combat this terror, giant robot fighting machines are built to stop the creatures from
ending the world as we know it. These man-made monsters are piloted by two people who run the
giant machines from inside the robots head. From there they defend humanity from the deadly
creatures in all out war.

Take the best of Godzilla, King Kong, Cloverfield, Robocop and The Power Rangers and you
have this movie all in a nice little package and this film rocks. Like Power Rangers, there is a giant
monster fighting the hero robot but this film plays into that idea but takes it to all new levels in
drama and with a well round cast of players make this light years ahead of any movie, TV show or
idea dealing with this very subject. This is no Power Rangers and with creatures in the vain of
Cloverfield and a will for destruction like Godzilla make this a fun action movie with two of the
coolest things you can have match up and fight. I ask you how can you go wrong with giant
monsters and robots? This movie got it right.

Killer Holiday

3 Gravestones

This film although about a killer who hunts young people down and chops them up is not
about a killer hiding under a mask like a Jason or Michael type. No this killer we see right from the
very start of the film and he is just a normal guy named Spider Holiday. Like any of these kind of
films young people go off on a trip and are hack up by the killer…..that part is still standard even
here. One by one Spider tracks the kids down as they all hang out in an old run down amusement
park complete with spooky fun house.

This movie may not be the Friday The 13th that it could be but it has a bit of a twist near the
end and it plays out well even though all these kids fear this guy and he looks like a model type. At
least Ghostface hid under a mask…..not a very good one but a mask. One high note is the stunning
red head of the movie Rachel Lara who is very hot and for no other reason then just to add in a hot
camp fire dance scene where the pretty red head wiggles and lap dances all the male cast. Even the
director’s commentary states that the fire dance was not part of the script but just added in as male
eye candy. …..And what’s wrong with that?

Nothing Left To Fear

3 Gravestones

Ok this is one of them films where a the family moves into a new home and things go bad
from there. Seen that…done that….but in this haunted house story, one of the teen girls is turned
into a demon creature that looks pretty good and hunts down her own family. Not a bad little
movie….not a great one as well. The girl playing the teen turned creature does a good job of it and
the make-up holds up as well. This little creature feature can be found on DVD at a Red Box near
you.
 Special Features
Behind The Screams: Blood
Fest 10 Halloween Event

By Dark Soul

As the stage host for Blood Fest the past 6 years,

it was a thrill for me to usher in the Halloween events
10th Anniversary show. As with all Blood Fest events,
the show opens with the Haunted Walkway into the
theater. For the last 6 years, Blood Fest played The Queens Flushing Library within their 200 plus
seat theater and the entrance into the theater is a long hallway where the show’s creator and our
publisher, AL J. Vermette, sets up the spook trail. Al runs the Haunted Tunnel himself along with
BMRs Web Master and submissions Editor D.W. Jones. For the last few years D.W.’s son Danny
has also helped within the spooky entrance as well.

This year brought back many of the same performers

from past events such as Glen Baisley from Light & Dark
Productions. Light & Dark played the very first Blood Fest
show back in 2003 when they showed their feature film The
Tenement. Now ten years later, Light & Dark is promoting
their new series of films called Tales of Light & Dark. They
showed the first film in the series Lolli Girl. This mixture of
dark humor showed that Glen could direct almost anything
as the film strays a little away from the more darker side of
their films. The film was well done and enjoyed by all who
came to the show.

Returning for Blood Fest 10 was long time Blood

Moon Rising friend Soda who played Blood Fest 1 with his
rock band His Mighty Robot. Back again and with a new
band name he and his drummer……………. made up (E)
Motion Picture. With just one guitar and drum set, the two
sounded like more than just two guys and their music rocked
the house with their hard driving sound and original written
music.
 Back too was the rock band Decembers Fall playing
rd
their 3 Blood Fest event. This super cool band lead by the
raven haired Francesca played Blood Fest 5 and 6 and now
number 10 making them the most played band in the ten years
of the show. Their music so powerful yet bewitching as
Francesca and her band mates belt out all original works.

Making his 2nd Blood Fest appearance was magician

Justin Illusion with his over the top dark magic. Justin took
command of the stage as everyone watched in wonder and
horror as he disemboweled a woman right on stage before their
very eyes…..his signature illusion. Then like magic (no pun),
she was whole again and went back to her seat. The magic man
also had the people holding their attention to him as he ate a
wad of string and then proceeded to pull it out from through his
own eyeball. Justin also preformed his act for us at last year’s
Scream For Halloween nightclub party event as well.

Making her first Blood Fest appearance after attending

the last two Institute of Horror, Fantasy & Science Fiction events of ours,
was psychic Susan Lynn. Susan took to the stage and did live readings
of people who were in attendance of the show. As they stood she would
read their future to them and advise them on how to proceed in their
upcoming life.

Making his 2nd Blood Fest as our Ghost Story Teller was Charles
Dunbar, who opened the show with spooky stories to everyone. Charles
who also attends our other event The Institute of Horror, Fantasy &
Science Fiction is the leading authority on Japanese Monsters and soon
after he left us was upstairs leading a lecture on his best known subject
in one of the library classrooms. Charles is also one of Blood Moon
Rising’s staff writers and brings his insight to his subject to the pages of
BMR as well.

Blood Fest 10 may be over now but fans of the event can look
forward to this year’s Halloween show set for October 25. See you all
then for Blood Fest 11.

On behalf of Al and all the staff of Blood Moon Rising and the
Blood Fest Halloween show, I would like to thank everyone who came
to this event and who have made Blood Fest what it was over the last ten
years. As the stage host, I would like to thank Al for letting me host this
great event and hope to host the BMR Halloween show for the next ten years as well.
 The Hunger
By Arnaldo Lopez Jr.
Tom Larsen tried to press himself deeper
into the shadows of the corner, careful not to
upset the pyramid of discarded cans of paint and
thinner balanced precariously in front of him.
An old tarp, stiff with splatters of paint and
pulled over his head finished his effort at
concealment. Yet the thunderous knocking of
his heart as it tried to escape the protective cage
of his ribs vied with the stuttering gasp of his
breath as to which would be the first to give
away his position and set the monsters upon
him.
A nearby moan told him that this
particular group was close, just around the
corner and getting ready to pass by his hiding
place. He peeked from under the tarp and saw
them coming, a ragtag collection of dead and
putrefying humanity that refused the grave and
instead chose to hunt and feast upon the living
remnants of their kind. They shambled past,
some missing or dragging limbs, but all covered
in blood and gore in various stages of
congealing. The smell was vile, yet the sight of
the zombies was so much worse. Yes, that’s
what they were, thought Tom as he watched
them shuffle past. Zombies.
An occasional low moan escaped the
group, there were at least 15 of them of various
ages and sex, but an errant titter sent the hairs
on the back of Tom’s neck standing straight up
and he covered his mouth before a moan or cry
of his own could escape from between his lips.
He watched in horrid fascination as they slowly
walked past his hiding place, his attention
drawn to the last one as she stumbled past. He
could see right away that she had been attractive
once, her amber hair; filthy now, was pulled
back on her head in an untidy bun. She wore a
painter’s smock covered in colorful splashes of
paint mixed with the reddish-brown of dried
blood. Her glasses sat askew on her once-pretty
face and loose strands of her hair did little to
obscure the large wound to her throat. Tom felt
a brief twinge of pity as he guessed her age as
between 22 and 25 years. Too young, Tom
thought, as tears thankfully obscured his vision.
Too young.
The crowd of dead things left his hiding
place behind as they continued their mindless
search for victims and Tom slowly exhaled a
breath that he hadn’t realized he had been
holding. He clutched the bag of supplies he’d
scrounged up to his chest and quietly left his
hiding place behind the paint cans and
scampered back up the old concrete and steel
stairs he had come down only about an hour
before.
The building itself had been built in the
1930s as a brewery right on the city’s crowded
waterfront. A huge red brick and mortar
stronghold, it employed many of the hard
working immigrants that had just moved into
the surrounding neighborhood. After the
second world war, it’s walls were filled to
bursting with returning military men that not
only worked within the building’s familiar and
noisome confines but who also happened to be
its products best customers. The 1960’s saw
profits fall as the newer generation moved away
from the old neighborhood and the remaining
workers fought to be unionized. In the 1970’s
the brewery closed for good and the building
was abandoned.
In the late 1990’s, various individuals
that branded themselves as artists moved in and
turned many of the old, dust-filled rooms into
art studios and apartments. They lived there,
with no heat or running water until 2004 when
the city tried to evict them as squatters. The
city lost the ensuing lawsuits brought about by
various arts groups and civil liberty
organizations, and by 2010 other young men
and women that saw this as an exciting and
trendy circumstance then moved into the tired
neighborhoods around the old building and saw
a renaissance of sorts take place as new
restaurants, businesses, and quaint shops
sprouted up all over. More artists moved into
the building and wrote grants that paid for heat
and running water. So the old brewery was
resurrected as a place of creativity, art and
hope… until a few years later when the dead
starting coming back to life.
It was in this building that Tom Larsen
now made his home. He ran up the stairs as fast
and as quietly as he could, his eyes wide with
fear and his breath coming in pained gasps.
Once he was behind the door to his room he
knew that he’d be safe… and there it was. It
was a massive fire door – six inches of solid
oak covered in steel plate. It rested on steel
wheels and had to be opened by pulling on a
thick rope wound through a series of pulleys
until it slid aside wide enough to let him in.
Tom set down his precious bag and grabbed the
rope with sweat-slicked hands, his head and
eyes constantly moving as he tried to see in all
directions at once while also keeping track of
the door’s ponderously slow progress. Finally,
the door opened wide enough for him to
squeeze through and after snatching up his
meager bag of supplies he let himself in and
used the same pulley system to shut the door.
He tossed the bag onto a nearby
worktable and sagged against a wall, willing his
heart to slow its frantic beating and his
breathing to resume some sort of normalcy.
Once he felt better he walked over to the table
and dumped the bag’s contents onto its surface.
Tom smiled at his haul: 2 ½ bottles of water, a
protein bar, a tiny box of raisins, and a half-
filled package of trail-mix. He’d explored the
building several times since making his home
here and it was he that had set up the little
hideaways behind piles of cans of paint and
paint thinner after he noticed that the dead
things couldn’t smell him past the fumes. He’d
run into the zombies before, but never so many
at once and never so close. He shuddered,
opened a bottle of water, and walked over to the
large floor-to-ceiling windows that took up an
entire wall of the room.
The wire-filled panes were yellowed
with age and grime, but Tom could still see the
river sparkling not too far off. A tugboat
bobbed far out in the waves and several
sailboats were still moored in their slips, their
long white masts waving for him to join them.
The boats were indeed the reason he’d come to
the waterfront in the first place. He had hoped
to take one and flee the hordes of the undead,
maybe just stay out in the deep water returning
to land only occasionally to forage for supplies,
or maybe even take to the ocean and find
someplace where the dead stayed dead… if
there were still such a place left in the world.
Tom’s eyes slid down, away from the
promise of the waving sailboat masts and closer
to the building he now inhabited, to the
mindless, shuffling, hungry swarms of undead
that clogged the sidewalks and that milled
around the weather beaten shacks and buildings
of the waterfront. There were hundreds, no
thousands of them, and try as he might he
couldn’t get past them and make it to the boats.
He had tried so hard! So he wound up here,
safe for the most part; as safe as anyone could
be in this new world, with his salvation
tantalizingly close and yet totally inaccessible.
He sighed and stepped around one of the
five wooden easels that had been strategically
placed in front of the windows. The two
farthest from him lay broken on the concrete
floor while the three nearest him still stood
sentinel to whatever sunset or landscape had
captured the artist’s imagination, their partially
finished artworks reverently covered by dusty
white sheets. Tom had curiously peeked at the
paintings all over the building as well as those
here under the sheets several times but being far
from an artist he was unmoved by the colorful
examples of Abstract Expressionism,
Impressionism, Cubo-Futurism and Post-
modernism, among others, that occupied the
space. He dipped a dirty finger into some still-
wet but tacky feeling paint that spotted a palette
on a nearby counter, a can filled with different
types of brushes stood close by as if waiting for
the artist’s return. Tom absently rubbed the oily
paint in his fingers as his eyes once again
strayed to the scene outside of the windows. So
close, Tom thought, so close…
A sound at the fire door immediately
caught his attention and Tom nearly stumbled
over one of the easels in his haste to get there.
He collided with the wall next to the door, his
palms and face pressed tightly to the rough
cinderblock as he stared wide-eyed at the heavy
red door. He’d been here for months and he
had yet to see or hear any of the dead things on
this upper floor of the building. However, he
could hear one of them on the other side of the
door now, as it shuffled and scraped and
moaned in the mindless way those creatures did.
These creatures can’t operate the ropes
that would open the door, can they? Tom
thought desperately in an attempt to blunt his
growing fear. His question became moot a
moment later when the enormous door began to
slide open in a series of noisy jerks and
wrenches that Tom was sure would alert every
zombie in the building on his existence and
whereabouts. Tom’s hand darted out to grab at
the door and stop its motion, but he pulled it
back in alarm just as quickly when the creature
on the other side growled. Tom’s hand coiled
into a fist and he struck at the wall in horror and
frustration, how did it know he was here? Why
was it attacking him now?
Tom ducked and pushed away from the
wall as the creature opened the door just wide
enough to wildly stab its arm into the room.
Tom backed away from the flailing arm and
watched in growing dismay when it retreated
from the room and the gap in the doorway
widened to the sound of the ropes in their
pulleys screaming like the damned.
Tom continued to back away, his eyes
growing even wider when the zombie squeezed
itself through the door’s narrow opening and
stumbled into the room. It was the girl from
earlier, the one with the crooked glasses, and
she was anything but pretty.
The creature lurched toward him and
Tom backpedaled away, the heel of his foot
meeting with the leg of one of the easels and
tripping him. Tom fell to the unyielding
concrete floor, and as he fell his hands reached
out for purchase, with the left one grabbing and
pulling the sheet off of one of the paintings.
Tom hit the floor hard and just before he lost
consciousness, he had time to see the sheet he
had pulled from the easel fall across his face
and gratefully block from view the hideous face
of the zombie, its gore-blackened mouth opened
wide, as it descended upon him.
Tom didn’t know how long he’d been
out, but his head hurt like hell. He briefly
wondered if this was what it felt like to be a
zombie, then dismissed the thought almost as
quickly as he had it. He was alive. He knew he
was alive. So what had happened?
He heard a soft grunt followed by a
muffled tapping and swishing sound, and he
slowly and carefully lifted a corner of the sheet
from his face. It was the zombie, and she was
painting. Tom couldn’t believe what he was
seeing! The zombie was repeatedly jabbing a
paintbrush into the half-congealed blobs of
paint on a nearby palette and then thrusting and
rubbing it clumsily onto the large canvas in
front of her. The zombie was so engrossed in
what she was doing that she didn’t notice Tom
slowly rise from the floor and make his way
toward the door. Just as he passed her however,
she suddenly turned and hissed at him,
frightening him into hastier flight. Before he
squeezed his way out of the door however, he
turned back and saw the creature turn back
toward the painting and continue her ungainly
attempt at finishing the work begun there.
 Maybe, Tom mused, as he quietly made
his way down the stairs and out of the building,
it was she that had begun that particular
painting and a portion of her ruined mind
brought her back to the thing she loved most.
Tom dodged the roving gangs of the undead as
he made his way toward the marina and his
possible escape, and he couldn’t help but think
about some hungers are more powerful than
others.

The End

About Arnaldo Lopez Jr.: My writing

credentials are: Articles to Railway Age
magazine, Homeland Defense Journal, and
Reptile & Amphibian magazine; scripts to
Archie and Personality Comics; and short
stories to Neo-Opsis magazine, Allegory e-zine,
Lost Souls e-zine, and various Sci-Fi and/or
horror newsletters and fanzines. I was also
editor of Offworld, a small science fiction
magazine that was once chosen as a “Best Bet”
by Sci-Fi (SyFy)television.
 Return of the Black Knight
By John Michael Osborne
Jeremy awoke late on Halloween night.
The sound of an animal’s feet jumped across the
roof. The footsteps sounded big, the creature
heavy. A savage growl erupted before the
screams echoed from down the street. Jeremy
threw open his frosty side window. The cold air
invaded his bedroom. He only saw the souls of
the dead scattering away from the Ditz home.
My God, what has the Dark Trinity done now?
# okay.”
Earlier that Halloween afternoon the sun
crept below the horizon early in Skull Creek.
Jeremy Dimple zipped his jacket up to his chin.
It felt like winter decided to settle in early that
season. Jeremy, a freshman in high school,
went home from that Friday afternoon and
finished his homework right away. His mother
suckered him into chaperoning a couple of
neighborhood brats for trick or treating. Their
parents worked that night and they wanted
someone to watch their kids. Jeremy preferred
to run through town naked with a jack o’ lantern
over his head than go out on that dreaded night.
He called his best friend, Thomas
Bellows. “Can you come with me? I have to
take Benny and Gloria Cinzinski out trick or
treating tonight.”
It sounded like Thomas dropped a glass.
“Why?”
Jeremy moaned, “Cause their folks work
at St. Mary’s. Their mom has the night shift
and their dad got called in to do an emergency
surgery.”
Thomas’s voice turned shrill. “And you
agreed to take them out?”
“No way. Their mom called my mom
and she said I’d do it without even asking me.”
Jeremy heard Thomas rip some paper
towels from a roll and wipe a squeaky surface.
“Oh, man, that blows. Moms are so out of
whack that way.”
“You said it. So will you come with
me?”
Thomas gulped a drink. “Tonight? I
mean, you know, this town is normally nuts, but
Halloween night? It’s like the most dangerous
night in town!”
“Yeah, but trick or treating is done now
before the sun even sets. I think things will be
Thomas groaned. “Oh, all right. But
let’s make sure we get this done before dark.”
Thomas walked down the street to
Jeremy’s home on Devil’s Way, a winding road
like the devil’s tail. He stood a foot taller than
Jeremy. His black hair formed an unruly helmet
over his skull. He always wore headphones.
He chewed gum like a dog that tried to get hair
out of its mouth. He flipped off his
headphones. “Okay, let’s get this crap over
with.”
Jeremy put on his dark blue winter coat.
The afternoon barely reached fifty for the high.
The weather service issued a frost warning for
that night. They walked down two houses over
to the two-story maroon Cinzinski home. Mrs.
Cinzinski, a thin woman with a pump cherub
face and neatly trimmed short brown hair,
answered the door.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Jeremy,”
she said like a famous actor plopped on her
doorstep. “Would you like some milk cookies
before you go?”
Jeremy and Thomas cringed. Are you
kidding? “No, thanks,” Jeremy said.
Benny and Gloria ran down the stairs.
Gloria was seven. Benny was a year younger.
Those kids always looked like two puffy faced
kids who grandmas always loved to pinch their
cheeks. Gloria dressed up like a bumble bee.
Her antennae bounced up and down like black
lighting shards. Benny wore a Batman costume.
He looked ready to fight with the Joker and the
Penguin. Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief when
he saw their costumes. Their masks obscured
their sickening sunny, chubby, little milk carton
faces.
“We’ll take good care of them,” Jeremy
assured their mother.
“Have a good time, kids,” she said.
The kids nearly broke down the door to
dash outside.
At the end of the driveway, Jeremy said,
“I’m glad you came with me. Even though the
sunlight isn’t gone yet, I’m still scared.”
Thomas yanked out a big brown ball on
a stick from his pocket. He unwrapped a wad
of clear plastic around a caramel apple. The
caramel smelled great. Thomas crumpled the
plastic and threw it in the gutter. He munched
on his apple. “Yeah, well, I didn’t mind getting
away. My folks were fighting with my sister
again.”
Jeremy didn’t have to ask why. Thomas’
older sister, Zoe, liked to hang with Corey
Mercilous, Dominic Brine, and Ethan Brody,
the Dark Trinity. Zoe and Thomas started
quarreling about the time she started hanging
out with Corey and his friends. Jeremy didn’t
know what it was like to live with a rebel sister.
He was an only child. Zoe looked beautiful
with her large waterfall blue eyes, long dark
hair and Maxim model figure, but her heavy
dark make-up and interest in black magic scared
him.
Zoe a junior, the same grade as the Dark
Trinity, clashed with her folks a lot lately. Her
parents hated the Dark Trinity. Most of the
adults in town whispered they practiced the dark
arts. And to make matters worse, it was
Halloween. Surely the Dark Trinity trolled for
evil that night.
Thomas placed his headphones over
Jeremy’s ears. “Listen to this.”
A news announcer, a man with a deep
voice, said, “Ever since the savior of the world,
Josephus Maletus, was proven a fraud earlier
this month, all hell broke loose across the globe.
In their rage against the church’s cover up and
deceit, many people are turning against the
church and God and practicing black mysticism
and delving into occult magic. Paranormal
occurrences are being reported and captured on
film all over the world tonight. For more—”
Jeremy yanked off the headphones. He
couldn’t bear to listen to anymore. It looked
like the Gates of Hell, the center of all
paranormal activity in the country, opened in
Skull Creek. Jeremy believed people should’ve
never turned away from God. Josephus was
still an important religious preacher. Many of
his teachings still rung true.
At dusk Jeremy and Thomas led the kids
up the end of the street and then slowly walked
back down Devil’s Way. Large Halloween
displays of jack o’ lanterns, scarecrows, and
cemetery decorations dominated front yards.
One ghoulish scene at the Hagenmier home
displayed a bizarre Star Trek theme. A
Romulan beheaded Captain Kirk while a
Klingon raped Uhura over a haystack as Mr.
Spock stood by and laughed hysterically.
Jeremy couldn’t believe the cops allowed that to
stay up.
They stood at the end of the driveways
while the kids happily ran from door to door
back in the direction of Jeremy’s home.
Children dressed as ghouls, monsters, goblins,
princesses, bugs, comic book characters, TV
characters, and devils carried Halloween
baskets with lights inside that glowed like
orange lanterns. The full moon rose in the
darkening sky. Despite the late cool afternoon
blue glow that hung over Skull Creek, headless
spirits floated between homes. The aroma of
burning wood, like a bonfire, wafted through
town. Women flew overhead on magic carpets
and brooms. Large bats swooped overhead.
Evil trolls crept around gardens. The anguished
spirits of Darren Ogleby, a teen who committed
suicide a year ago by slashing his wrists and
Cathy Wrathman, a teen who hanged herself
two years before, floated around the town. Icy
shivers ran down Jeremy’s back. He believed
that sinister activity wouldn’t start until well
after dusk.
Just as they came to Jeremy’s house, the
Dark Trinity, Corey, Dominic, and Evan crept
through the Owendip yard across the street from
Jeremy’s home and started to cut across the yard
of the Ditz house. Corey painted all black on
one half of his face and white on the other.
Dominic painted a large black claw around his
all white face and Evan painted his face ghastly
white with black around his eyes and mouth, all
drenched in black clothes. It looked like they
headed in the direction of Schmidt’s woods,
probably to perform a black mass.
As they started to cut between the Ditz
and Steghorn homes, Philbert Ditz threw open
the front door and shouted, “You cut through
my yard and I’m calling the cops!”
They laughed hysterically.
“Screw you, Philbert, you ignorant
punk!” Corey yelled.
Jeremy and Thomas watched from the
end of Jeremy’s driveway. Benny and Gloria
ran to homes to get more candy, oblivious of
what transpired with Philbert Ditz and the Dark
Trinity.
Philbert, a tall lanky kid with glasses, a
bowl-job blonde haircut, and big pink lips like
a pregnant whore, graduated last spring.
Philbert and his friends loved shoving around
and threatening underclassmen. Jeremy hated
him. Philbert liked to harass him and Thomas.
Jeremy always wanted to see Philbert cross
paths with the Dark Trinity. He imagined it
would be like a cobra picking a fight with a
viper. He smiled slightly.
Philbert, Phil to his friends, still lived at
home with his mom and his younger sister. He
ran the Dark Trinity. “What the hell did you
just say to me?”
“You heard me, old man,” Corey
mocked. “Or are you so old you’ve gone deaf,
redneck?”
“I’m not afraid of you and this black
magic crap you’re into,” Philbert said.
“When—”
“Yeah, you are,” Dominic said. “We
know why you and Storky and Stubby and
Jeffery, and Jerry and your other pig farmer
friends never gave us any problems. You’re
scared of us. Now you’re not in high school
anymore, Philbert. You can’t fight us. You’ll
get arrested for that, old fucker!”
Evan said, “You’re just a washed up old
dinosaur who’s working at Whipppleman’s
Distribution Center, making minimum wage.”
Philbert turned red like a vampire’s
hungry eyes. Jeremy’s smile widened. Thomas
grinned, too.
Dominic said, “Go back inside to your
mommy and shut your god damn mouth!”
Philbert visibly shook. “Maybe I should
shut your mouth!”
Corey punched Philbert in the throat.
Philbert collapsed to the ground backing and
coughing. Dominic kicked him in the head and
knocked his glasses off. Evan stomped on the
glasses. The cracked glass sounded like fingers
breaking. Philbert tried to pick up his broken
glasses and Dominic stomped on his hand.
Philbert screamed and cried. He held his hand.
Snot poured down his face. Corey kicked him
in the ribs.
Jeremy never cared for the Dark Trinity,
but he loved seeing Philbert get a taste of his
own venom.
Thomas muttered, “Looks like the rats
have just come home to nest.”
Jeremy nodded gleefully.
Corey stood over Philbert and shouted,
“You don’t know who the hell you’re messing
with, you useless piece of crap!”
“But you’re going to find out tonight,”
Dominic said.
“And then you’ll have something real to
whine about, punk,” Evan grumbled.
 Corey chuckled as they walked away.
“Phil. They should’ve named your ass Empty!”
They laughed hysterically.
That wiped the smile off Jeremy’s face.
He shuddered. You’re going to find out tonight?
What did they mean by that?
# standing at the edge of the crowd.
Headless souls, ghouls, goblins, evil
trolls, the spirits of Darren and Cathy followed
them around the rest of the afternoon. Jeremy
was so glad to take the kids back home. Jeremy
went to bed late. Shadow figures passed by his
second story window. Something crawled
across the roof over his bedroom. He heard
tales of the Breyer Beast, a wolf-creature that
killed people, animals, and skulked in yards and
leaped across rooftops around Breyer Road just
outside of Skull Creek. Maniacal laughter
erupted from the street several times. Voices
whispered in his ear as he tried to sleep. Jeremy
pulled the covers up over his head.
Just as he finally dozed off at two AM,
he shot up in bed when he heard a woman
shriek down the street. Then he heard another
woman scream. Then he heard someone else
scream. It sounded like someone slaughtered
them with a butcher knife. He didn’t think the
screaming would ever stop. Suddenly silence
ensued. An animal howled. The light of the
full moon poured through his room. Did the
Dark Trinity place a curse on the Ditz family?
The terrifying screams woke up Jeremy’s
parents. They called the police. Sirens wailed.
Flashing red and blue lights illuminated his
room. Jeremy peeked out his side bedroom
window. The police stopped at the Ditz home.
The Skull Creek Sheriff, county, and state
police cars littered the street. Three ambulances
also arrived. Jeremy couldn’t sleep after that.
When the sun rose, squad cars still remained
down the road. A crowd stood around the
house. Jeremy called Thomas. Thomas came
down to Jeremy’s home early in the morning.
He wore his green jacket, blue stocking hat and
headphones. The music blared through the
speakers until he shut off his music player.
Jeremy put on his royal blue jacket and they
walked down the street. They found Franklin
Fishertail, a wiry mousey junior high school kid
who knew everything about nothing important,
“What happened?” Jeremy whispered.
“Old hag Ditz, her daughter, and one of
her friends bit it hard,” Franklin said. “I heard
it’s like a slaughterhouse in there. The police
found blood dripping from beneath the front
door on the stoop when they arrived. Body
parts are friggin’ everywhere.”
“What about Philbert?” Thomas asked.
Franklin shrugged. “No one’s found his
ass yet.”
Jeremy shuddered. He and Thomas
walked away.
“You know it was the Dark Trinity,”
Jeremy said.
Last week Jeremy and Thomas
summoned the Black Knight to rid Skull Creek
of Kippy Grubberpus’s curse. His grades hit the
skids. So he tried to kill everyone he blamed
for keeping him off the football team.
“Yeah,” Thomas said.
“It’s time for the Black Knight again.”
“No way!” Thomas said. “That was a
one- time event. I’m not getting involved in
that again.”
“We have to, Thomas! If we don’t, think
of what could happen.”
“No!” Thomas shouted. “That Black
Knight is black magic! I want nothing more to
do with that. If you want summon that creepy
spirit, fine. You do it yourself. But I’m not
helping you.”
Jeremy felt helpless as they walked
downtown to get some lunch at a diner.
#
After they ate, Jeremy and Thomas went
to the Skull Creek Teen Center to hang out. As
they left, the Dark Trinity came out of
McDonald’s. Kirby Steghorn drove to the
restaurant and spotted the Dark Trinity walking
in the direction of the teen center. Kirby used to
live next door the Ditzs. Kirby was one of
Philbert’s bully friends. Kirby graduated high
school two years ago. Jeremy heard Kirby
studied accounting in college. Sometimes
Kirby came home on the weekends. He stopped
the car in front of the Dark Trinity. Jeremy
feared what might happen next.
Kirby, tall and skinny, looked like he
suffered from anorexia. Kibby, his younger
brother was short and fat. In the past Jeremy
overheard Corey call them Storky and Stubby.
Kirby never saw Corey, Dominic, and Evan
since Kirby graduated. They started studying
the occult after Kirby left for college. They
grew bigger and meaner now. The Dark Trinity
feared no bully.
Kirby got out of his car and stood in
front of the Dark Trinity. “You little punks, we
know it was you who did it!”
Corey chuckled like a gargoyle. “Did
what?”
Kirby said, “Killed Phil’s mother, her
daughter, and one of her friends.”
“Who’s we?” Evan asked.
“Me, Phil, the cops, everyone, dumb
ass!” Kirby said. “Who do you think?”
“We didn’t do it,” Dominic said calmly.
“We didn’t do anything.”
Kirby scoffed. “You punks think you’re
so tough. What are you guys going to do after
you graduate? Work in a factory? Dig
ditches?”
Corey scratched some of his long auburn
locks. “Where are you working, Paper Clip
Boy?”
“I’m a manager at the Hardware Depot,”
he said proudly. “I just got a promotion and
now I‘m making fifteen an hour.”
The Dark Trinity laughed. Jeremy
braced himself. He expected punches to fly at
any moment.
“Big. Stinkin.’ Deal.” Dominic twirled
his finger around. “So you have some mindless
drudgery job making mush and marshmallows
for money.”
Evan chuckled like an evil gnome.
“Fifteen bucks an hour to pluck nails out of a
box and put them into a paper bag and give
them to little old blue hairs like Mrs.
Mooplemier and sell cow fertilizer to farm
fucks like old man Kielbasa. Then you stand
around and talk soybean sales and hog futures
to kill the never ending boredom all day. Oh,
joy.”
“Yeah, that’s the life, isn’t it?” Corey
poked him in the shoulder. “I can’t wait to
graduate from high school to be just like you.
The days crawl by at work and then you go to
school to study accounting. You’re right,
Storky. You’re a real thrill master.”
Dominic said, “I bet you go to the bars
and brag to all the girls about your job, don’t
you?”
“I’ll tell you something, Storky,” Corey
said. “If we ever turn out like you, we promise
to commit suicide in the most disgusting way
possible. That’ll probably take a big picture of
you hanging in front of us while we do it.”
They chuckled as they started to walk
off. Jeremy glanced at Thomas. Jeremy
breathed a sigh of relief. Jeremy didn’t expect
to see the Dark Trinity walk away from that.
Kirby grimaced like a crushed jack o’
lantern. “You guys think you’re tough because
you study black magic, don’t you?”
Jeremy tensed again.
Corey growled, “We’re not tough
because we study and practice black magic,
redneck. We’re tough because the last dumb
son of a bitch who bothered us the same way
you are now ended up in the hospital for three
months.”
“And we’re the ones who put him there,”
Dominic said.
“Yeah!” Evan said.
 The Dark Trinity chuckled.
“Now doesn’t that fifteen dollar an hour
bottom feeder job of yours sound really relevant
to our lives?” Corey asked.
The Dark Trinity closed in on Kirby.
Kirby’s Adam’s apple lurched. He quickly
opened his car door. “You guys are going to
finally get yours. Everyone knows it was you.”
He leaped inside and locked his door.
Before he rolled up his window, Corey
said, “It wasn’t us. It was Philbert.”
They laughed again as they walked off.
Gooseflesh crawled down Jeremy’s
body. Thomas looked ashen. What did they
mean by that? Jeremy said, “Do you still think
we can’t summon the Black Knight? You know
the Dark Trinity is going to get worse.”
Thomas paced. He put his headphones
back on. “Okay. One more time. But that’s it.”
# and thrust it through the werewolf. It screamed
Later that night Jeremy and Thomas
went to Spook Hill to the Skull Creek
Cemetery. They slaughtered a chicken from the
Kielbasa farm over the Dirk Buchmnan grave,
a teen who drowned in Skull Creek, and
performed another ceremony. In the distance
someone screamed.
Again it sounded like it came from the direction
of Jeremy’s home.
Jeremy breathed. “I hope we’re not too
late.”
Jeremy and Thomas ran in the direction
of the scream.
Kirby’s body lay torn to pieces in the
front lawn of his parents’ home. A large
werewolf stood over the slaughter. It howled.
Jeremy and Thomas ducked behind some
bushes in the Uppenhiemer home next to
Jeremy’s house. The werewolf stood on two
long legs. Its breathing sounded heavy and
savage. Its black shaggy hair rose in spikes
over its back, arched like a scythe. Its long ears,
like horns, pointed straight to the full moon.
Saliva oozed from its mouth to the earth. Its
claws looked large and powerful enough to
carve through an alligator hide. It growled as it
sprinted off.
“Where’s it going?” Thomas whispered.
Jeremy gasped, “I don’t know, but it’s
headed in the direction of your home.”
They ran after the monster. The Black
Knight, on its mighty black steed, appeared at
the end of street. The horse galloped down the
road and cut off the cursed creature right in
front of Thomas’ home. The Black Knight, in
its black armor and black hooded cape with hot
blue light glowing through the eye holes of its
metal mask, jumped off his horse. The
werewolf leaped at the Black Knight and thrust
a claw harmlessly through the Black Avenger.
The Black Knight clutched the werewolf by the
throat and drew a silver sword from its sheath.
The sword gleamed in the light of the full moon
like a demonic creature dragged to Hell. The
werewolf’s red blood turned black and sizzled
when it hit the ground. The creature collapsed
and started to slowly change back to a human.
Jeremy expected it to be one of the Dark
Trinity. But Jeremy was stunned to see who the
dead werewolf transformed into.
“Philbert,” Jeremy and Thomas gasped.
The Dark Trinity placed a curse on
Philbert and turned him into a werewolf.
The Black Knight hissed, “Evil shall no
longer have dominion over Skull Creek.” He
mounted his horse and disappeared into the
night.
#
The next day the sheriff said in the local
paper, “This sort of savage behavior will not be
tolerated here. Anyone who has any
information leading to the arrest of this
vigilante who calls himself the Black Knight
will be eligible for a cash reward.”
Jeremy and Thomas couldn’t help but
chuckle. The Black Knight, a righteous spirit
from the Dark Ages who destroyed evil,
couldn’t be arrested. He couldn’t be caught.
Jeremy shivered when he saw Zoe at her
locker. She glanced at him before she put her
books in her locker. Then she looked at him
again and smiled. He knew the Dark Trinity
conjured the werewolf to kill Thomas parents so
they couldn’t keep Thomas’ sister, Zoe, from
hanging out with them. The Dark Trinity
needed to be stopped.

The End.

About John Michael Osborne: I'm from

Atlanta. I now live in Tallahasee. I'm a student
at FSU working on a master's in creative
writing. My first novel, Children of the
Damned, been published by Authorhourse. The
online magazine, Lost Souls, is publishing my
Dark Disciple series starting in issue 18. I was
first published in a music satire magazine called
The Rock and Roll Probe. I still occasionally
write and publish humor.
Interview with Kim Sonderholm and
the people behind the new horror
movie "Sinister Visions"
By AL Vermette

AL: Can you introduce yourself to the readers?

Kim Sonderholm: Well, my name is Kim Sønderholm, I was born in
Aarhus, Denmark on June 13, 1973. I'm an actor, trained in “the
Stanislavskij method” from 1998-2001 and worked professionally in
the business ever since. I now live and work in Copenhagen, Denmark. I've worked as a director
on several movie projects as well as features and short films.

AL: Please tell our fans about your new movie "Sinister Visions"?
Kim: "Sinister Visions" is all about scaring your pants off!!! Haha, no, well I've always been a huge
fan of anthology films like "Creepshow"and the concept of it, so I've always wanted to do something
similar. As you know I've already done the "Horror Vault" Trilogy, had a lot of fun with that and
I think the result is fairly reasonable. But I wanted to do more, step it up a notch, making it more
conceptual and I feel I managed to do that a lot better this time around with "Sinister Visions". I
would love to claim that it was the plan from the beginning, what the common theme should be but
it would be a lie!

The plan was only to have one, something that was a little more varied on the "Horror Vault"
Trilogy, but it didn't become clear until much later what it would be. It occurred to me after seeing
the three first produced segments what the theme would be and we worked on it from there.
Basically, the common theme is the horror of interaction between the two sexes - males and females
- and how the females deep down have the entire control (I'm probably gonna score big points with
the feminists for that one, haha!). Two out of the three segments I directed was written by UK
screenwriter Gerry Charles whom I've know for a number of years, and the third one, "Succubus",
was written by a Danish writer Lars Egholm Fischmann whom I had never worked with before. He
approached me and asked if I was interested in directing the short, originally meant for the Movie
Battle 2012 competition here in Denmark (which is why "Succubus" was also released on the
"Supernatural Tales" compilation, which, I think, is only available here in Denmark on DVD), but
as the pre-production work commenced, I put up the condition that it could be used for "Sinister
Visions" as well and he jumped aboard immediately
at the opportunity.

"My Undead Girlfriend" was directed by Henric Brandt from Sweden whose feature film "Death on
Arrival" I had an acting part in years ago. He was a fun guy to work with and also contributed with
a brilliant segment in the second installment of "The Horror Vault" Trilogy which was named "The
Dead Chick in the Closet", which was also hilarious. He has a wonderful macabre sense of humor
that I really love and I'd love to collaborate with him again any day. He really brings the fun. As for
"Genital Genocide", I know actor/producer David C. Hayes, who suggested the segment and put me
in the touch with the director. David also contributed to the third "Horror Vault"-installment with
the segment "Undone", in which he also stars.

AL: How did the movie come about?

Kim: From the entire desire to do what we did with the "Horror Vault"
trilogy, only this time around make it bigger, louder, more intense and
more focused...and I think we managed.

AL: How long did it take to shoot the film?

Kim: Well, the segments were shot with a lot of time in between, I
think the first shots were done already way back in 2008 and the last
ones in 2012! So it's taken quite a while but there's also been long
breaks in between because the people involved had other projects to
finish. It's been kind of a pet project that was allowed to take the
required time, so it's been really nice to work with.

AL: What other movies have you and your production team been part of?
Kim: As an actor I've worked on over 120 film and television projects in a lot of different countries.
I love to be able to take a plane to faraway places to work, and to this day I've worked in USA, UK,
Canada, Germany, Sweden, Norway, Poland, France and of course Denmark, where I live. I've also
directed and produced a couple of films. With my production company Apotheosis Film, I have
produced a few feature films over the years, "Craig" being the first, "Tour de Force" and "Little Big
Boy", and of course the "Horror Vault" trilogy. As far as "Craig" concerns, Well, distribution wise
it’s been a disaster due to a couple of companies messing the whole deal up tremendously. I’m quite
happy about the distribution it received here in Denmark, thanks to Antoher World Entertainment
but the rest of the world it’s been a complete disaster! I’m not gonna name names here, it’s a closed
chapter of my life. Yet, miraculously an amazing amount of people know and have seen the film –
I don’t know if these people downloaded it illegally or whatever but in all honesty, I don’t care!
Normally I would never condone such behaviour but in this particular case with my own film, I
really don’t care. And I’ll tell you why -
As an actor it’s been a fantastic calling card! I’ve been offered a huge amount of roles on account
of that film, so in that sense it’s been great. I love “Craig” to this day, I love that fact that we went
out and did it even though we had no money and I love the result. Sure some things could have been
done better but considering what I had to work with at the time, I think me and my two associate
producers Jan T. Jensen and Jim Pedersen really took it as far as it could be taken. It’s not a perfect
film but I am still proud of it to this day. The whole distribution deal pains me not cause it never
really made a whole lot of money but because it inhibited a huge audience from seeing it, that’s
really the only reason! I never did that film to earn money but for the love of the story, directing it,
writing it and especially playing it!

I have decided now that producing is not for me, though! I'd love to direct again some time, but the
producing bit is not my cup of tea. My main love is the acting so that's what I focus on – I might
consider directing something again some time, but producing is out of the question, it's awesome that
some people love doing that stuff and thank god for that, and I guess it's different from person to
person but to me, producing is nothing but stress and no fun and I nearly broke my neck doing it a
few times, which is why I say "never again", haha..

AL: The make-up looks great on your female demon, who did the
make-up on your film.
Kim: The makeup was done by, in my opinion, one of the most skilled
in that field here in Denmark, a guy named Anders Lerche, who worked
on a lot of different projects here in Denmark and had just finished work
on one of the "Harry Potter" films as well when we did that segment
("Succubus") so it was awesome that he wanted to work on our project.
The makeup took him I think nearly three hours to do but I guess it's
obvious why when you see the film, because he did do a marvelous piece
of work. He was definitely a guy to look out for, we will see much more
of his work in the future I'm sure!

AL: Where can our readers see you new movie and will there be DVDs to buy?
Kim: It's been out on DVD since August and you can find it just about anywhere; Amazon, Walmart,
Kmart, Barnes & Nobles, you name it....

AL: What would you like to say to all the young filmmakers out there about making a movie?
Kim: Oh...I don't wanna be a spoil sport but it's a tough business, so many people have broken their
necks and confidence trying to break through and there isn't really any sure fire way of doing it. I
mean, I've been working now for 12 years and I have still yet to get my first major league role. Don't
get me wrong, I love my job and the projects I'm involved with, otherwise I wouldn't do them. I love
working on indie films and it means a lot to me that people working with me are down to earth and
nice – but yeah, of course, I would love to get the chance to tackle a bunch of major Hollywood
projects. I'm not sure I gave you a useful reply there, but I hope it'll do, haha. But, story is king so
if you have a story you feel you have to tell, by all means, do it, and do it the best way you possibly
can. You never know if you're gonna be the next big thing on the indie scene or who knows, maybe
even get to Hollywood some day - nothing is impossible! (and if you are, make sure you call me with
a nice acting part, haha!)

AL: What's in the future for you?

Kim: Well, I just finished a horror comedy in the south of France named “The Winedancers” about
a group of people coming together and meeting up, in what to begin with looks very coincidentally,
at a wine cheateu in the South of France. It won't take long until a lot of very peculiar incidents start
taking place; odd Pagan rituals, chateau hosts very far from the ordinary, people slowly going off the
deep and end one by one - and most importantly: bloody murder! It offers real suspense that can
almost be described as a classic game of whodunit with a lot of twists and turns! I have the privilege
of playing John, a very emotionally bottled-up guy who basically don't like to take about feelings,
much less admit his own shortcomings neither to himself or anyone else. John is married to
Samantha and they are having great difficulty getting pregnant. Although the wish to become
parents is definitely more Sam's than John's, they visit a fertility clinic and after a great argument
breaking out during the consultation, the doctor advises them to first work on their marriage before
anything else - and what better place to do that "in a secret place, where nobody knows who you are",
as she recommends them.....at a very disclosed wine chateau in the alps of South France. The film
is very clever and witty and contains a lot of hilarious moments of dark humor as the madness
unfolds, but it is also a very dark, bizarre and haunting story that I am very sure all fans of horror will
absolutely adore. In fact, I even experienced going to sleep some nights after a day of shooting and
having several of the scenarios continue out over my dreams, sometimes making me wake up in the
middle of the night in a haze. Something like that have never happened to me before, very weird
experience.

Having gotten back home to Denmark, I’m also currently playing a role in a new danish zombie flick
named “Escaping the Dead” which is inspired by the incident last year when the homeless Ronald
Poppo was attacked in Miami and had his face eaten by a drugged-up lunatic. He survived, and the
film isn't about that, but the incident inspired it. So when I call it a zombie flick it obviously
shouldn't be taken literally. In general there are good zombie stuff out there these days such as
“World War Z” and “The Walking Dead”, not forgetting the awesome “Shaun of the Dead” as few
years ago – there are other great zombie films out there, but there is also a lot of utter garbage. I
have to admit I was kinda fed up with the whole zombie thing but this project intrigued me because
of the source of inspiration. Also, of course, it's always fun to be chased by zombies – you never get
too old for stuff like that, haha!

Finally, I'm in the very early mind set of creating a new horror anthology. Not Sinister Visions 2 but
something else. I've been approached by a filmmaker I've collaborated with before on some of the
anthologies who has something up his sleeve... But hell, Sinister Visions took me 3½ years on/off
to put together while I was finishing Little Big Boy, so it's not gonna be anything out this year, that's
for sure.

There is no website for Sinister Visions, but there is a Facebook page for those curious:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sinister-Visions/134631999908032
My own personal website was recently revamped into a blog that I maintain and update myself very
frequently, so pay it a visit at http://www.kimsonderholm.com - you should find any info and links
you may wish for there I would think :)
 Creature Feature

The Golem
By AL J. Vermette

Down by a riverside, a group of men stand. They are working on

a project that could save them all from a people who wish them harm. As
the men work digging clay from the shore, they pack in into a form….a
human form and soon standing before them is a man made of clay. As they
stand in wonder at this work, a lone figure steps forth and looks upon the
clay form. “Yes…yes this is just what God said to do.” The Rabbi said as
he is beginning to walk around the clay man speaking in scripture. The
others all watch as the figure begins to glow in a bath of bright fire. The
Rabbi ends his chant and the clay man’s eyes open. “Behold our new
protector!” The Rabbi calls out as the clay man starts to move. “The word
of God has sent us this Golem to protect us and our people.” The Rabbi
adds as the newly born creature follows him back to town.
The story of The Golem dates back as far as the1500's
when Rabbi Loeb built the creature under the orders of God
himself. The Golem was to be the people’s protector according
to Jewish folklore. As the legend goes, God told Rabbi Loeb to
build a man made of clay and gave him the power to bring the
thing to life. The Golem was to obey his every word and keep his
people safe from any evil intent. However if things didn’t go as
planed with The Golem, the creature could be stopped by
removing a tablet within the clay man’s mouth with the name of
God written upon it. Once removed the creature would no longer
live.

After The Golem’s birth, his creator gave him the name
of Yossle and a gift of a deerskin necklace that could render the creature invisible when needed. In
the story, The Golem would seek out any anti-Semitism that was found in the streets of Prague as
it walked the night and eliminate it. The creature was a faithful protector of the Jewish people until
something changed and the creature turned on his master and attacked him. Rabbi Loeb was forced
to remove the tablet from his mouth ending The Golems life. According to the legend, the creature
was then laid to rest in the Old Synagogue in Prague. Same say that the creature still remains there
within the Synagogue’s attic waiting to be found and brought back to life.

In 1915, a German production company brought The Golem to

life on the movie screen with “The Golem” and later 1917's “The Golem
and The Dancing Girl.” The best known of these productions however
was in 1920 with “The Golem” by German director Paul Wegener who
also played The Golem in the movie. A little bit of film history here is
that these three films marks the first sequel and prequel in movie history.
The Golem as a movie star never really caught on past the silent era but
the creature was used more recently in such TV shows as “The X-Files”
and “Supernatural” where Sam and Dean encountered a Golem in season
8 of the series. Like Lilith, the demon lover of Adam, The Golem
remains part of the Jewish folklore and stories of such a creature have
been past down from one generation to the next. Perhaps such a creature
is awaiting to be found in a lost place and awaits its reanimation.
 The Graveyard Estate
By Steven Mamo
During a strange, experimental phase of
the American government, a small town
attempted the most morbid change of modern
history: the creation of the indoor cemetery.
The project was never officially released to the
public. The only people who knew of the estate
were those with family member’s who had
‘checked in’. Those who check in NEVER
check out.
It is never quite noted what town it
originated from. It always would see there in
the deceased’s time of need, and then vanish
without a hair, not a trace left behind. The
funerals were never to be held in the estate, but
the bodies would always end there. All that can
be confirmed is the presence of two mysterious
men, who always see present at the ceremony.
They have been described wearing the same
clothing through each funeral. The consistency
still remains to be unsettling.
Long, black coats with hoods pulled up,
with a distinct lack of facial features.
Handsome or horrifying, their faces have yet to
be seen. Not by family or friends. Not
residences or rivals. No one sees the faces of
the graveyard people. They would carry the
bodies of the lost loved ones into the house,
never to be seen again. All that would remain
was a tombstone and tear of sadness, shed from
the ones close to the dead.
Although the experimental estate project
was cancelled by the U.S. government in 1994,
its halls still continue to fill. Dead, dead, dead.
Everyone dead. Not a single lone soul roamed
the hall without a head. Godless and selfless,
these graveyard people roamed, guarding the
chambers of the Graveyard Estate.
Now, welcome to 2009, the year of
Adam Kane, plagued by short-term memory
loss on his great quest of dread. He has sought
out the great estate since its origin in 1966, and
has found only superstitions. No proof of
purchase, no landlord or leader. Only legacy.
A legacy left decades before his time, but it
mattered not to him. He was determined to
discover the truth behind this legend. In
sickness and health, till death do they part.
Adam was driven to the point of
insanity, killing many of his family members in
hopes that the hooded figure would arrive at the
funeral. It was not until the suicide of his
closest friend when they came for him. His
friend was frightened of Adam, and took his
own life in an attempt to escape from him. It
worked, in a way.
During the funeral, Adam was
practically laughing with glee, anxious to see
the inner sanctum of the cemetery. When the
ceremony was over, Adam waited patiently and
persistently. The hooded men were nowh ere.
He screamed out in a fit of rage and frustration,
and that is when they got him. And that’s when
he realized it. That’s when he remembered.
He wasn’t at his friend’s funeral; he was
at his own. He had killed himself in a final,
desperate attempt to complete his work, hoping
he would find closure, and he has. They
dragged him to the home. They placed razors
under his nails, and forced him to scratch the
chalkboards of the state for all of eternity. His
punishment, not for the sin of suicide, but for
his wicked plan.
His cheating plan to trifle with the
graveyard estate.
 The Creature of the Wharf
By Benjamin A. Lerario
There once lived a creature that lived
out beyond the wharf in Castle County, Alaska.
The town’s people said they could only see him
by the moonlight. He wasn’t the wolf man, no.
Any type of moonlight could shine on his evil
eyes and you would instantly know that he was
the creature who roams Castle County. Night
was coming in and I just arrived home from
work. Then the phone started ringing when I
was about to place my feet up and rest them for
a while.
“Hello?” I answered.
“You gotta get down here Matt!”
“Who the F- is this? How do you know
my name?” I returned.
“There’s been a break in down at the
Castle County Warehouse!” The wacko over the
phone cried.
“Hey pal, I’m off the clock. Dinner time
is my time!”
Click!
“Hello?” I hung up the phone; “It was
just another prank,”
I thought to myself as I placed the phone
back down on the receiver. There’s been a lot
of that lately since I started my new job as a
security guard down at the wharf. In the first
two weeks at Castle County Warehouse, I
caught a couple of horny teens necking in the
lofts and a few piss drunk adolescents downing
the brews in the hanger. It was a lively week
for me as a new security guard.
I got the job from Jan, my next-door
neighbor; she told me about the job opening a
few weeks after the last guard went MIA. She
said she knew him for years. He wasn’t into
anything weird like drugs or sex with dogs but
the guys that run the warehouse said he went
out on a call one night and then never came
back again. Maybe he threw some brews back
with the local kiddies and they drowned him for
kicks. Who knows? I wasn’t scared out of my
job ‘cause I needed it. The bills were backing
up and Clive, my hound, was sick. Ring! Ring!
The phone rang again.
“Who the F- is this now?” I called out
over the line.
“It’s out again!” Then nothing else was
said over the phone line… Then, “Please!
Someone get down here!”
“Is that you, Jesse? Uh-Hello? I
thought I told your folks to hide your ass raw
for this phone-prank-shit!”
Click.
Nothing.
Ring! “Hello… Good Damn, Ki-”
“Matt? It’s Rick.”
“Rick? -Oh! Hey, Rick.”
“Could you go down to the wharf and
see what’s happening there?”
“Sure.”
“I think some kids are horsing around…
I got a few calls - you know.”
“I got a few call myself… this prank shit
shouldn’t be happening anymore, Rick. I
personally warned their parents over this!”
“-Just get down there and call me
afterward, I want to talk about your overtime.”
“Uh - thanks.” I hung up the phone a
little stressed. I marched over to my safe in the
other room and cracked it open. I pulled out my
45-caliber, I like to call it gold finger. Sounds
corny, huh, but if I didn’t have her with me one
night, I’d be chow mein for a six-foot black
bear roaming my campsite. Don’t ask me what
I was doing out there alone camping at a
Wisconsin Reserve. I’ll admit though, I shit a
brick when I shot the son of a bitch between the
eyes, then I ran for my life.
The ride over to the wharf was quick. I
jumped out of my car ready for action but the
area around the docks was clear. The night was
pitch-dark and there was no moon around. I
carried my flashlight close and pointed my gun
aimlessly into the darkness but there was
nothing to shoot, I mean nothing. A gush of
wind wrestled the brush around the warehouse
but that was the only sound within earshot of
me.
Nothing again. I stumbled into the open
doors that lead into the warehouse and flicked
on the main lights. I thanked God that night
they’d paid the bills on time. The lights lit up
well in the warehouse. I checked the hangers
and the truck lofts, nothing was in sight. I ran
into the office and checked every cubical. I
counted sixty that were empty.
There was a receiver that was off the
hook down the hall. It was close enough that I
could here the operator’s voice. I walked into
the lounge room and across from the phone was
a pre-teen was bunched up into a ball.
“Hey, kid… you alright?” I asked him
with a cold stare, he said nothing. He was sort
of frozen in a stupor, shivering.
“Are you alive or dead, kid?” I asked
him again.
“W-w what took you so long to get here,
mister?” That’s all he could he could cough up.
“I though you were some sort of prankster?”
“Na… that’s my brother, Jimmy.” The
kid answered honestly, “H-he likes to make
prank calls and comes down to wharf some
nights to watch the creature.”
“Creature?” I looked upon this crazy kid
sitting in his own piss with a puzzled look.
“Yea, the creature?”
“What creature, kid, a bear or something?”
“Don’t call me kid, my name is Jed…”
I looked down at my watch and noticed it was
passing midnight.
“Hey, Jed, I need your help so I can
report to the owners what happened here tonight
or my ass is canned, capish?”
“Okay… Jimmy, my brother, wanted to
see it tonight.”
“See what?”
“He wanted to see the creature.” He
answered again.
“Really? So how are we going to see
this thing you call the creature?” There was a
long pause between the kid and my sarcasm.
“You’re the bait.” He said coldly with a
serious look.
“I’m the Bait? Are you on drugs, kid?”
I flashed my light into his eyes. “Jimmy didn’t
give you any of his LSD covered candy corn,
did he?”
“You’ll see the creature only by the
moon’s light.” He warned me with a crazed
look but I didn’t care for what he said.
“You’ll see what, kid? Hey - Jed, I’ll
make easy on you. I’m going to have to call
your folks; okay? What’s the number?” I
walked over the main receiver across the room
from Jed and waited for an answer.
“I’m not telling you!” He screamed.
“Tell me now or I’m calling the cops
and your parents will hide your ass raw you for
sure!” Jed suddenly made run for it down the
hall and he eventually made his way outside of
the warehouse. I chased him as far as I could.
His long red hair and skinny body disappeared
under the moonlight and I stopped just before
the wharf by the rocks.
“Jed? Hey-Jed? Where are you?” I
called out into the blankness of the night.
Nothing. Not even a sound.
“Creature, eh?” I thought to myself as I
started to walk back to the warehouse. I’ll
admit I was a little jittery over the crazy night
but nothing else seemed to be bothering me that
moment. Then a gush of wind from the sea
blew by me and I looked out into the abyss,
there was nothing out there for miles. The sea
was calm but a fear subsided in me that I had
not felt since the bear in incident.
I held onto my 45 tightly and searched
the rocks with my eyes. Nothing again. I
turned my back on the sea and headed to my old
pick up truck in the lot. There was serenity in was - you know… eaten?”
the air just before The Creature was revealed to “Yea, he spun a yarn over it. I
me. Then a loud swooping noise came from remembered his warning… you could only see
behind. I jumped for my life and landed under it by the moonlight.” I said.
my truck. “That’s all, Matt. Thank you.” I left
I looked warily out from underneath my town of Castle County that night for good. The
truck. A flicker of moonlight revealed a giant authorities never called me back and I never
clawed foot pacing the lot. Then one of its bothered to follow up with a phone call. I know
head’s appeared checking the terrain for prey. there some strange things that happened to me
The big head wielded just one red eye and the now again but I never seem dote on them,
rest of its skin was reptilian. I seemed to cramp especially the story of the creature.
tighter into a ball and did not make sound for
dreaded fear.
“Mister! Mister!” Jed called out to me in
the distance.
The giant creature that was shadowed by
the night then disappeared for the moment.
“Get out of here kid, something’s out
there going to eat you!” Jed then pointed to the
sky and there it was a demon hypocrite with
several heads and gigantic torso passing in the
moonlight.
“The Creature!” He screamed.
I jumped into my truck and turned the
engine over. The kid just sat the warehouse
door waving to me. I slammed it in drive
before the thing came back down with another
swoop and gobbled up Jed. I didn’t stick
around to see the gore but the very next day the
authorities found what was left of Jed’s arms.
He was found in parts and blood strewn across
the lot. I was the one who made the call to the
authorities.
They held me a while for suspicion of
the murder. I didn’t talk much after the incident
but Jed’s arms were left with puncture wounds
from some type of animal and I was left off the
hook as a suspect. The detective knew of the
creature yet I was disenchanted over the town
having such a secret and I had to be the one who
found out on his own.
“...I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr.
Kirkland.” said the detective then I rose to my
haunches a little shaken.
“Say did Jed ask you about it, before he
 Special Features
Music, Magic Movies, Myths & Monsters:
Ten Years of Blood Fest History
By AL J. Vermette

The date of October 19th 2013 marked the 10th Anniversary our Blood Fest: Halloween Show
& Rock Party. It’s almost hard to believe that we here at Blood Moon Rising have been doing this
show for that long and yet the ten years have gone by pretty fast I have to say. Over the years of the
show we have had 2 venue changes, 12 rock bands perform, 3 dance acts take to the stage, 2
psychics, 2 stand-up comics, 5 magicians and endless amounts of films shown. It’s been a full ten
years of fun and fright as the event marks its tenth year as part of the Blood Moon Rising live events.

It all started in 2002 really when we celebrated Halloween with our office party and had
friends, family and everyone who has been in the magazine who could make the party show up and
have fun with us. The first BMR live event, our Halloween office party went wonderfully but by
2003, we moved the Blood Moon Rising office to a new location that was not suited to have a party
within as before. So in early of that year, I came up with something even better. An event like none
other and presented it as a stage production. Blood Fest #1 played in Boonton NJ at the old Darress
Theater on Main Street Boonton. The very first Blood Fest ran over 8 hours showing feature films
from Light & Dark Productions, Lake Films and Cinema Sky Productions along with the two rock
bands His Mighty Robot and Blitz Kid. Like with every show to follow, the night opened with our
Haunted Tunnel where our guests were attacked by monsters and creatures of the night as they
entered the theater. The show went well and despite some new show mishaps unknown to the
audience, it set the stage (no pun intended) for more Blood Fest events to come.

Blood Fest 1,2 & 3 were all hosted on stage by Kim Yetes of Kim’s Krypt who along with
her haunted attraction crew made the long drive up from Maryland to be part of the show. Kim’s
wacky on stage presence was just the thing to make our new horror stage show something cool and
wonderful. She made the show come alive and really shined when hosting the Costume & Scream
Contests. With Blood running down her face and carrying a head in her arms, Kim was an
outstanding host for our first three years of the show.

Blood Fest 2&3 also played the Darress Theater until the third year when the wrath of god
made it rain so hard that we thought the theater was going to dissolve. When the rain started to
come into the theater and fall just before the movie screen and we had to jump over ponds of water
to get to our dressing rooms, I thought that this would be the last NJ show. The trip to the event was
also something less then tempting from New York BMRs home base. (little did I know then just how
far I would go for this show ……but later on that), I knew after that show that we needed a new
venue to host the event. Who knew if the theater would even be standing the following year the way
it leaked. Yes a new venue was need and by chance I found it in the oldest of places.

With no place to host the 2006 show we ended up just making that years Blood Fest event
a big party much like the one in our old office. This party was hosted in my underground lair, AKA,
my old Queens Basement apartment. The party was great and it took us back to our roots of the first
Halloween party we threw. But I missed the action of a stage show production and in the Summer
of 2007, I came upon what would become the new home of Blood Fest. This happened purely by
chance when I was visiting The Queens Flushing Library in Down Town Flushing, Queens, New
York. I was there to take in….what else a horror film that they were showing that day. The moment
I stepped into their 200 plus seat auditorium with a full size stage, I knew that this must be the new
home of Blood Fest. On the spot, I made friends with the program director Gina Fizio and told her
that I would love to move my horror Halloween show to her library. Better luck had me when she
said that she was a big horror fan and would love to have us host our next Blood Fest in the library.
Sadly it was too late to book the new venue that close to Halloween and so we had to wait until 2008
to use the new location. Oddly enough this new venue like the old one was also on Main Street,
(yeah I know).

As Blood Fest picked up in its new venue, a new stage host was needed as well. I didn’t
need to look very far when I found him. He had been with Blood Moon Rising Horror Magazine
since the very beginning and had been our convention cosponsor and sort of the face of the magazine
although he hides his face under a mask. Movie reviewer and writer Dark Soul was the right fit to
become the new Blood Fest stage host…..even if I had to talk him into it just a little. On November
1st 2008, Dark Soul took the stage for the first time in his trademark long black coat and skull mask
and become the new Blood Fest host. Although the date was a little off you could say…..you
know…..November 1st but it was the day after Halloween and it being a Saturday we just billed it
as “Halloween is not over yet!......its Blood Fest Weekend” and it worked and the people came. That
first show in the library was a hit and each year following got only bigger. The years to follow also
had show dates a week or two before the holiday as it should be and over the next 6 years there we
built up a fan base that showed up year after year.

As Blood Fest grew each year, so did its content. More acts were added to the film showings
and rock band performers. Over time we added dances, magic acts, stand-up comics and psychics.
Our own magazine writer Charles Dunbar became our ghost story teller and we added an onstage
Werewolf vs Bigfoot battle one year. One of the standouts were in show #8 which had a stage full
of young performers dancing to Michael Jackson’s song “Thriller” all in full zombie make-up and
dress. One of the wildest acts we had was from magician DiDi Maxx who preformed a vampire
themed magic/dance act with dancing creatures and other performers. Blood Fest #9 had a visit by
none other than The Great Pumpkin who stopped by to give out candy to all the children and Jason
Voohees who was at all shows acting as everything from gate keeper to leading the costume parade.
 So now comes Blood Fest 10 and it’s an event that I have looked forward to for the past two
or three years. The thing was……I myself and Dark Soul are down in Orlando Florida putting
together new events for the sunshine state that we are hosting for Blood Moon Rising. Dark Soul
was back in New York all October for family related issues so he was good to host Blood Fest 10
but I was still basking in the warmth of the southern sun. With Blood Fest on my mind, I and my
new little black kitten Pumpkin got into the car and headed for the Big Apple. On Blood Fest eve
as we were coming into the area I could see rising into the early night sky a huge red full moon
welcoming me back to the city of my birth and still the home of Blood Moon Rising. That rising
blood moon on the horizon was like a gift and could not have been set better to welcome me on
Blood Fest eve. Oddly enough we also had a full moon for Blood Fest #1 as well back in 2003.

With Black cat Pumpkin acting as our shows mascot, Blood Fest number ten took to the
stage with a force. Opening with our Haunted Tunnel and going into Ghost Stories by Charles
Dunbar followed by magic by Justin Illusion. Old friend and Blood Fest #1 filmmaker Glen Basly
from Light & Dark Productions showed his new film “Loli girl” as part of his new series “Tales of
Light & Dark.” Then came Susan Lynne, our psychic, who did on stage readings of people. Next
came our two rock bands, first up was old BMR friend Soda with his new band (E) Motion Picture
(note here Soda played Blood Fest #1 as well when he lead the band His Mighty Robot. Then for
their third time playing Blood Fest was the band Decembers Fall who brought in the grand finale.

It may have taken ten years to get to this point but Blood Fest Ten was a hit and by the time
it was over, both Pumpkin and myself were ready to call it a night. It may have taken ten years to
celebrate this show 10th Anniversary but it was worth all the crazy shit that came with producing this
event. …. . And I would have never done it any different. I hope to see YOU and Blood Fest 11
coming this 2014.

I would like to thank all who have made this Halloween show what it was over the past ten
years (in no particular order):

Glen from Light & Dark Productions, Patrick, Chris & Michael and the gang from “Zombie Hunters:
City of The Dead”, Lance and the guys from Lake Films, Michael, Neil, Joe and Charlie from
Cinema Sky Productions, Soda, Charles Dunbar, Gina Fazio & The Queens Flushing Library, The
Darress Theater, Dark Soul, Kim Yetes, Shoshona Strier, Danny Jones, Fear 44, Bitz Kid, His
Mighty Robot, (E) Motion Picture, Decembers Fall, Shinobi Ninja, Sweet Cyanide, Key Fits, The
Amazing Amy, The Thriller Dancers, Jasper, Justin Illusion, Didi Maxx, Ray West, Louie
Poveromo, Gigi, Alex Haines, R.J. Williams, Susan Lynne, Elizabeth, The Great Pumpkin, Jason
Voohees, Werewolf & Bigfoot, The Grim Reaper, The Black Rose Killer, Relic

….And big thanks to my partner D.W. Jones who I could not have done this show over the years
without. D.W. you’re the best!
The Rose Files
“Going Batty” – Or, the Creatures
of the Night Move to the Suburbs
~Rose Titus ~

Perhaps it is a recent phenomenon out here in the dreary suburbs that we find ourselves
coexisting with various forms of wildlife. Deer, coyotes, raccoons, possums, skunks, woodchucks
and the occasional wildcat visit our backyards. Up in the sky, if you look up long enough, a hawk
may soar over your house. Recently the local newspaper reported a bear sighting in a nearby town,
and there are always rumors (unconfirmed) of mountain lions.

But it is a fact that many suburban homes, even the cleanest and most well kept and decent
homes, can have colonies of night flying creatures residing up in the attic, or in other dark hidden
areas of the home, secretly living beside us suburbanites, coming out at night… and No, they do not
pay any rent.

It is unfortunate that most people are afraid of bats, probably due to a combination of
superstition and the fact that bats star in many popular horror films. In almost every rerun of
“Dracula” the bat is the co-star. Sadly, most people, even rational and sensible people, fear bats.
Some people fear bats to the point of hysteria if and when they appear, flapping wildly around your
home. At first, we can say to ourselves, well, of course people are afraid of bats, bats are scary! But
think about it. Why are bats scary? They are tiny creatures that only very rarely appear in our homes
and usually do no harm. Therefore, fear of bats is irrational.

And so when I had these cute flap-happy, furry leather-winged visitors in my own home I
decided to be rational. Okay, they can be scary, so at first, being rational about it was hard. As time
went on, and more and more bats visited, it got easier to deal with. I had so many bats, I had no
choice but to get used to them and well, just learn to cope.

The bat in the garage was easy. I got the broom and opened the garage doors and told it to
shoo. In a few minutes, it was gone.

One afternoon, several months later, I was watching a vampire movie – coincidence? – when
the bat appeared flapping around my living room. It did not want to leave, so I got a wire hanger,
a silk scarf, and a fallen branch from a tree that landed on the lawn outside, and fashioned a
makeshift sort of “butterfly net” by putting holes in the scarf and putting the wire through the holes,
and using duct tape to fasten the “net” to the stick… well, necessity being the mother of invention,
I caught that bat and put him or her outside and watched the creature fly away.

Months passed by, and I threw away the so-called butterfly net I created, thinking I would
not need it ever again.

I was wrong.

Another bat appeared while watching TV. I don’t quite remember what I was watching this
time. It flew around, and around, and all around in wide circles, until, finally, it attached itself to
the ceiling. The entire house has textured ceilings, so this made it easy for the bat to hang itself from
up above. It hung there for a while, probably watching television and appeared to be as bored with
the crap on TV as I was.

I recalled I had a cardboard box about the right sized for this creature, so I got up during a
commercial and found the box, along with a flat piece of cardboard. Back in the living room the bat
was still hanging in front of the TV. I dragged a chair from the kitchen, and got up on the chair and
got the bat into the box while holding the box tight against the ceiling. While it flapped around in
there, I slid the flat piece of cardboard over the top of the box and so I had captured the bat.

I let it outside into the darkness of the night. I hoped the bat found its way home somehow,
and I also hoped that it landed near somewhere with better cable.

But that episode would in no way be the end of the great bat adventures. Soon, I was getting
more and more little visitors. I was in bed reading a book and heard something flapping up above.
There was a bat, again, going around in circles above me. I got my box and flat piece of cardboard
and caught that one, too.

Later that week while looking around one of the local discount stores -- and in my
hometown, every other store is a discount store – I found a butterfly net. The label said, “Ages 3 and
up. Made in China.” It did not say, “Also good for bats.” But I bought it anyway. I soon found out
it would come in handy.

At that point in time, I started having a bat in the house each week. I caught each and every
one of them, putting them outside and setting them free. I had so many I thought maybe I should
give them names. “This one can be Larry.” I would put the net out an open window and shake it,
“Go on, now, fly away! Bye Larry!”

There were bats in the kitchen, bats in the hallway, bats in the dining room, bats-bats-bats,
everywhere around the house, there were bats.

One hit the blade of the ceiling fan and landed on the floor, making it easy to catch. I hoped
it didn’t have a concussion. I worried it might sue me for personal injury, but I haven’t heard from
the bat’s attorney yet.
 One got itself onto the screened in porch and while it flew in circles, trapped on the porch,
another bat appeared outside, and flew up to the screen and flew around near the screen for a while.
The bat that was on the porch went over and the two seemed to be communicating somehow. I
observed this and was amazed at their behavior, as bats are not considered to be intelligent animals
like dolphins or elephants. But there they were, two bats, one trapped on the screened in porch, and
the other on the outside. I wondered if the other bat was answering a distress call? I got that one
outside eventually, so I would assume it rejoined its colony.

One night I came home and my elderly mother who lives with me met me at the door with
the butterfly net, “It went upstairs. Go get it!” Even though she likes animals in general, like most
people, she does not like bats at all. In fact, when she tells the story of the great bat invasion, she
recalls five bats, over a period of four weeks. I did not tell her about bats she did not see, because
there were actually eight bats that I had caught and put outside.

The worst event was the morning I had to rescue a bat from drowning…

One night I washed out some delicate clothes in the bathroom sink, and decided to let them
soak overnight. I woke up the next morning and there was a bat in the sink, struggling frantically
to keep itself from sinking into the water. It was panting and it was trying to use its wings to pull
itself up to the edge of the sink, but kept slipping back down. The bat was a poor swimmer, yet if
it stopped swimming, it would die.

At six o’clock a.m., I don’t know who I am, where I am, or what I am… I am just vaguely
aware that it is morning and I have to get out of bed and head off to this place called “work.” And
there, suddenly in front of me, when I opened the bathroom door was this bat in my sink, trying to
keep itself from drowning. I got back out of the bathroom and shut the door and stood in the
hallway, “Oh… My… God!” I then made other loud commentary that is not fit for all age groups
to read. But then I slowly woke up to the reality that there was another living thing that was
suffering, and about to die, if I did not do something about it.

I had been reading about Buddhism and remembered a story about a monk that rescued a
tiger cub, saying, “The Buddha has compassion for all things.” I opened the door to the bathroom
again and looked at the bat, and realized that “compassion for all things” includes compassion even
for things that are ugly and scary and possibly diseased. On Sunday, when I go to church, I am a
Catholic. When I am confronted with helpless animals, I suddenly become a Buddhist… And I
suppose that most normal people whatever their denomination would take one look at the bat in the
sink and a. call an exorcist, b. freak out, c. bash its freaking brains out, or d. all of the above.

I drained the sink and got a good look at it. It looked up at me and shrieked, making this odd
chirping sound. I felt a vibration while it chirped, as if the sound waves hit against me. I did not
understand this, but I didn’t care. I just wanted this small, helpless, and tremendously ugly creature
out of my bathroom, alive and well enough to fly. Otherwise, if it died, I would be responsible for
some family of bats losing their mommy or daddy.
 Once again I got it into the box, and put it on the concrete front step outside my house. It
did not fly away. Instead, it sat there shivering. I worried it would die, but I came back to check on
it an hour later and it was gone. In the meantime, I cleaned the sink out with bleach, and then I
washed my hands fifty million times.

Later that same week bat poody was found on a rug, and so the rug was thrown out. I
suppose I could have cleaned it, but I worried about what viruses could be lurking in the droppings.

I also decided to have rabies vaccinations as a precaution. And when you get vaccinated for
rabies that is eight vaccinations, not one. I probably did not need vaccinations, as I was never bitten.
But it would be a good idea for any contact with any other wild animal in the future, as I have a
tendency to rescue every stray and lost furry thing I come across.

Droppings were found in other places around the house. I had enough and called a pest
control company.

At least I had something amusing to talk about at work. Co-workers had fun hearing about
my ordeal, “Well, I’ve become good at catching them, so if anyone has a bat in their house, they can
give me a call.”

“Yeah? You can get a costume with a cape and have theme music!”

Na-na-na-na-na! Bat Girl!

This thing with having bats in the house wasn’t fun anymore.

It was $750 to have them removed humanely. It was expensive, but I was getting tired of
chasing bats all around the house, cleaning up bat poopings, waking up in the middle of the night,
and getting shots. It turned out there was a colony of about 40-50 living in the chimney.

And they were not paying any rent.

Most people are terrified of bats, but I just can’t get hysterical about them the way most
people do. They are scary when you first see them because they move so fast and come at you out
of nowhere, it seems. But if you sit there and watch them, you realize, they are not really after you.
They are just confused because they are in your home and they want to go back to their home, which
is somewhere in your attic or chimney, and they don’t know how to get back to join the rest of their
colony. That’s what the problem is, basically. The bat is lost, confused, and just wants to go home.
Going around in circles is probably the way a bat acts when it’s confused. It doesn’t know where
it is, or how to cope.

Many years ago, most people considered wolves to be useless vermin until scientists
discovered how important predators are for the balance of nature. I wondered about bats, also. Are
bats another animal considered “vermin” that is also actually useful to the forest?
 After the adventure was over, and the excitement died down, I decided to read up on bats,
to find out what they are really all about. The local library has plenty of books on bats, with glossy
color photos of bats of all types. One of the books tells about “house bats.” I decided the bats I
encountered must be “house bats,” because they like being in my house. I also discovered that some
scientists dedicated their lives to studying bats…

Merlin Tuttle is considered one of the country’s greatest experts on bats, and he is the
founder of Bat Conservation International. His fascinating book, America’s Neighborhood Bats,
(University of Texas Press, 1988) not only details the species of bats and their habits, but informs
us that most bats in fact do not carry rabies. (So, like, I got eight shots for nothing?) However, no
one should handle any wild animal and if you do, get vaccinated as a precaution. Bats almost never
attack people, as they are normally shy and would rather avoid humans.

Bats in fact are not “just flying rats,” as most people believe, recent DNA research suggests
they are more closely related to lemurs, which are primates, and so therefore, the next time you think
your relatives are batty, you may be correct… that’s right: Bats may be our distant cousins in the
evolutionary family tree. Bats can use echolocation, and therefore they invented radar before
mankind did. Bats are also not “blind,” as the myth tells us – they can actually see normally. Bats
can live to be thirty years old, which is unusual for a small animal. They tend to live in large
colonies, which may or may not be located in your attic.

Bats are important to the environment because they destroy insects that are considered pests,
including mosquitoes. Some species of bats actually pollinate plants, including plants that produce
fruits and vegetables. Some types of fruit bats carry off seeds while they fly and spread seeds
through the forest, literally planting new trees as they fly across the night sky.

All life on Earth has a purpose, and it is not up to us to decide which animals are useless or
not. In his book The Outermost House, the naturalist Henry Beston wrote, “We need another and
a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals… In a world older and more complete than
ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never
attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not our brethren, they are not underlings,
they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the
splendor and travail of the earth.” Perhaps we should all see the animal kingdom in this way, rather
than considering bats and rats and wolves to be vermin, “trash animals” that have no value, and that
need to be exterminated. Bats are not beautiful, majestic creatures like eagles, but they have their
place on this planet. I hope all the bats I set free made it back to their colony, and I hope they all
found a new home.

The bats that were in my house are gone now. The pest control people came, and I haven’t
seen them in the house since. I do often see them in the night sky, flying over the trees, darting
across the darkness, but never again have I seen them in my house. Maybe I miss them… But then
again, maybe I don’t.
Nightmare Gallery

Artwork Done by Sandy Reece

 Dreamshadows
By Rose Titus
He gazed blankly at the blackboard and
scribbled a few notes, only to pretend to pay
attention. The math teacher turned his back to
the class and once again Billy's eyes focused on
the green field outside the window... The crow
was still there, pecking at the ground. Perhaps
it found the food that he had left for it earlier.
He watched as the grass moved softly
with the late autumn wind and wished he could
be out there, like the black bird, in the cool air
to smell the leaves and listen to the whispering
sound of the trees...
The bell suddenly rang, jerking him
back into alertness. But he was thankful. In the
distance, he could see that the buses were
finally approaching.
Last in line, he shuffled out to the poorly
lit hallway, then slowly towards his locker.
Amanda Foxworth was there, in the
hallway, talking to three other members of the
cheerleading squad. They were in uniform —
their perfectly pressed, brightly white and neon
blue, short skirted uniforms. He watched
Amanda as she talked. Her small hand played
with her honey golden curls as she spoke.
The girls were standing in front of his
locker, so he had an excuse to say something to
her.
He mumbled excuse me, and the girls
politely stepped aside. And then he said it, "By
the way, Amanda —"
Her friends giggled when he began
talking to her.
"I was just wondering —"
The other girls walked quickly away,
still laughing.
"Would you like to... I mean, maybe
someday, if you would like to--"
"No thank you, Billy." She looked
quickly around the hallway until she saw the
captain of the football team, "Brad!" She called
out after him, "Brad! Give me a ride home in
your new Camaro!" She swiftly followed him
out the door and into the back parking lot.
“Shit.”
He was overweight, and acne-faced. He
had few friends. And he had no chance with a
girl as pretty as Amanda.
He opened his locker and filled up his
book bag with miscellaneous items so that his
parents would believe that he was studying
dutifully over the weekend.
But She waited for him, on the floor of
his locker, safely hidden under old papers and
almost never opened books.
It was the latest Roxanna novel; he
bought it yesterday, as soon as it arrived at the
book store. He had collected all ten of them so
far, and had joined her fan club two months
ago, receiving the newsletter, and a life-sized
poster.
He did not really understand why he had
become almost obsessed with her, a heroine in
a fantasy novel. He knew only that he longed
for her, secretly, and would tell no one.
She was beautiful, with fierce amber
catlike eyes, jet black hair, a snow ivory
complexion.
It sometimes worried him that he felt
attached to her, a fictional character. But still
he almost wished that she was real...
Roxanna was a vampire.
He had collected the comic books that
featured her adventures throughout history since
he was twelve, and now collected the book
series. The issue that he hid in his book bag
took place during the Crusades. She brought
the battlefield's tormented dying to their final
rest through her embrace.
And so she was not totally cold hearted,
like so many of the people he knew in his real
life.
Both cars were in the driveway when the
bus stopped at his house. Billy was
disappointed. That meant that they were both
home. If they were not home, then he could go
up to his room to read some more. He went in.
His father sat quietly at the kitchen
table, and he had that look on his face. He
glared at him when he came in. His mother
prepared supper. She turned to look at him, and
frowned.
"Hi Mom. Hi Dad."
"Son," his father began, "one of your
teachers called me today — at the office."
Oh shit.
His mother brought a cup of steaming
hot black coffee to the table; his father sipped it,
making a hissing noise as he drank, "Now,
son… Your mother and I are very concerned
—"
"And Billy, what on earth is this
nonsense?" his mother finally spoke. She
reached into the wastebasket, "What are these
awful things that you have been reading?"
"Huh?"
"You are wasting all of your very, very
precious time reading this trash? Billy?"
Billy silently wandered away as she
called out to him. Slowly he climbed the stairs
to his room to be alone.
"Billy Johnson!" his father shouted,
"You will not ignore your mother while she is
speaking to you."
He closed the door.
"Oh shit."
It was all gone. The poster was ripped
off the wall. Nothing was left of it but bits of
scotch tape sticking to the wallpaper... The
starship model that he assembled himself and
hand painted was taken away also. His
bookcase was empty, and all of his science
fiction books were gone. The only books
remaining were several old school textbooks,
placed there neatly on the top shelf... The
Sword and Sorcery trilogy that he liked was
gone as well...
But he would miss Her the most.
She had become almost like a friend.
She was misunderstood, like he was, an outcast,
and despised.. Yet, still She was so beautiful.
She was all he had. He opened his green canvas
book bag and quickly turned it upside down to
empty it onto the floor. It fell out. The novel
Bloodkisses. It was the last one. He would
need to hide it.
He woke up feeling cold, but he did not
remember the window being open. He rose to
shut it.
Billy?
She stood there, against the wall where
his poster had been.
"Huh?"
I feel bad about what happened, Billy.
She truly was magnificent. She was
everything he imagined her to be. Her soft
raven black curls shined like dark silver in the
pale moonlight, her face was milk white with
lips the color of blood red rose petals.
"I gotta be dreamin' — right?"
Does it matter?
He sat down on the edge of his bed so he
could look at her in the moonlight that poured
gently through the window. She wore a black
velvet dress, a silken ribbon surrounded her
delicate throat.
"No. It doesn't matter," a single cold
tear drifted down his cheek, "It doesn't really
matter, 'cause my life is a nightmare anyway."
She stepped closer, wiped away the tear
with one soft bone white finger, "Don't ever
give up your dreams, Billy. If dreams are all
you have, then make them real," she bent to
softly kiss his moistened cheek. He shivered.
She stepped away, stepped back into the
wall, and disappeared back into the shadows.
He was alone. The room became coldly silent.
He awakened to the angry roar of the
diesel engine growling below his window. He
sat up quickly, looked outside.
"Oh shit "
It was the garbage truck. Billy had
meant to get out of bed early to go out to save
what he could from the trash. It was too late.
He got out of bed, nearly tripped over
his textbooks and homework. He gathered
them up until he found Bloodkisses... It was on
the floor, face down on the carpet. The black
felt tip pen that he kept in his bag was stuck
inside the front cover. He picked it up, and
opened it... Billy , all my love, forever —
Roxanna.

About Rose Titus: Rose Titus works two jobs

to support her writing habit. She exists
somewhere in a suburb in cold, dreary New
England, with three pain in the arse cats and a
very out of date Macintosh. She also has a
restored classic Buick that gets her to the
grocery store. Her work has previously
appeared in Lost Worlds, Lynx Eye, Bog Gob,
Mausoleum, Midnight Times, Blood Moon
Rising, The Bugle, Weird Terrain, Descend, and
Wicked Wheels.
 The Suicide Note of Jeremiah Carter
Judge me if you must but all I ever
wanted was peace. It seems so ironic now when
I think about the fact that peace was the reason
I did such horrible, shameful and unfathomable
things.
When people trap themselves inside
their own minds and isolate themselves from
the outside world, they become misguided and
often make terrible decisions, while being fully
convinced it's a great thing to do. Your mind
can play tricks on you when your alone, this is
why we need to be social in our lives, to stay
grounded and sane.
My name is Jeremiah Carter, I am a
Writer. The media likes to label me as a
“Author of romance novels”, so I suppose that's
what I mainly write, and this has been my
occupation all my life, its all I know how to do.
About ten years ago, I married my wife Lillian
Carter. Lillian looked like a Victoria's Secret
model back then, she was the most gorgeous
woman I had ever laid eyes on. We met at a
party and I guess the gods were with me that
night because I lucked out and was able to
convince her to bail on the party and just go to
a bar and talk with me, so that’s what we did.
We connected immediately and within
three months she was my wife. Having this
beautiful woman as my wife I became
possessive, I started to feel like every guy was
out to get her (and i was probably right), so I
began to isolate her and we wouldn’t really
leave the house much, only on special occasions
or to see family. We were married for almost
two years when we had our first kid, Louis.
Within 3 years of having Louis we had three
more kids Max, Alicia and Carl. After we had
Carl, we completely stopped leaving the house,
not even to see family, we ordered everything
we needed off the internet and got it delivered
By David Catney
to the house, we had no reason to leave, in my
mind at least, so we never left.
Any writer of fiction knows you have to
be pretty isolated while you do your writing,
you can’t have distractions, you need peace and
silence to let your imagination run wild and be
able to write a good story, or at least I do. For
the last couple of years I haven’t been able to
write a full novel, whenever I start writing and
get into the “writer's zone” as I like to call it,
something or someone always distracts me.
When you are in the “writer's zone” you are
completely immersed in the piece of work that
you are writing, you are almost in a completely
different world, very far from the office desk
that you started writing at. Being in the
“writer's zone” is like tripping on drug's, it's
almost like an out-of-body experience. When
you get pulled out of this intense “writer's zone”
it can be very traumatic and depressing because
often times it is hard to get right back into
where you left off.
For the last couple of years I haven’t
been able to get into the writers zone for twenty
minutes without having someone knock on my
office door because “the baby wont stop crying”
or “Mom's being mean, Dad” or some
complaint of that nature, that I’m expected to
get up from work to deal with. Whenever this
happens all I can do after is think of ways to
stop it from happening again, I just sit there and
think of ways I can attain peace and quiet so I
can reside in my “writer's zone” with no
distractions.
After months of asking and pleading
with my family to just leave me be when I’m in
my office, I realized it wasn’t going to work and
every time, they completely forgot about my
plea to be left alone as soon as “Mommy's being
mean” or “Max broke the lamp”, no one seemed
to care that I needed to write this novel in order was enough to send me into a huge depression
to provide for us, no one seemed to care about and fill me full of regret. I had brutally
my problems or my work and I was expected to murdered my whole family for the sake of my
solve all of their problems the second they own peace and now I knew I would never find
needed it. I realize now that that’s what good peace again.
fathers do but I became misguided in my After much thought I prepared a ham
isolation and these are the delusional thoughts sandwich and had my last meal ever, with my
that made me commit such terrible acts. family by my side. After eating the last meal I
Three days ago the idea hit me like a ton went out to the shed and got a can of gasoline,
of bricks and it seemed full proof, like the best which I poured all over my family’s corpses and
plan yet. I wanted peace and I convinced the kitchen, with this last bit of gasoline I will
myself the best way to attain it was with a soak myself and burn us all in the kitchen as a
hammer. So two nights ago when my family happy family, to finally attain eternal peace.
was sleeping I walked into each of their rooms, P.S – Isolation leads to insanity.
oldest to youngest, starting with Lillian ending
with Carl. I smashed in each one of their heads -Jeremiah Carter
with the hammer. It was a lot easier than I
thought it would be, after they stopped
convulsing, it was almost like smashing a
watermelon. Blood was splashing all over the
walls, my clothes, my face, the floor. Skull
fragments were flying all around sounding like
pebbles as they hit the wall and floor, brains
were getting everywhere around me sounding as
if someone just spilled mashed potatoes as they
landed. I was getting blood and pieces of brain
in my mouth as I breathed, it was a terrible
bitter taste, kinda salty, something I'll never
forget. After I had all their heads smashed in, I
dragged them all to the dinner table and sat
them upright in their usual chairs for dinner.
After dinner I left them in their chairs,
so they would be there to keep me company for
my next meal. I went to the office to start
writing and stayed in the “writer's zone” all
night long, then slept away most of the day.
When I woke up I could smell the stench of
something decaying, this stench was getting
worse and worse as I approached the kitchen
and when I walked in there the smell was too
rancid to take, I had to put my shirt over my
nose so I wouldn’t puke. There was flies and
different bugs flying around the gaping holes in
there heads, there were pools of blood under all
their chairs, it was a terrible sight. This sight
 Dark Poetry
The Tyrant King
By Matthew Wilson
Stir your broth, witch and tell a tale.
Have my silver and lay my life before me.
From my time of youth till I am frail,
and all my secrets for the world to see.
I wish to be king, so lay the cards on the table
and let me know if I am strong or able.
Let me know who will make the end of me,
who will take my name from history.
Tell me my story witch and all it's woe,
please tell me how far I have to go.
Before I kill my brother and take his crown,
tell me he who takes me down.
I have left fools in ditches with slitted throats,
so kill your chickens and then your goats.
Use your spells to read my star,
tell me witch how high is my legacy, and how
far.
Dark Of The Home
By Matthew Wilson
In the house are things that bark,
that creep along the floor most dark.
That feed upon the man who dares
to interfere without thought or care.
Fools do strive to save the day
and seek the dark alone,
inside of which monsters watch
and call that darkness home.
The New Witch
By Matthew Wilson
Forget the spells and chants she said,
Grandma dear is best off dead.
I know they found those bones within the wall,
she liked her men, but that's not all.
She needed parts to make the spell,
but never witnesses for tales to tell,
to talk against her and so they died.
The brave fell down, the cowards lied.
Happy birthday, darling dear.
But there is danger in that cloak I fear.
The one you found in grandmas box,
your curiosity made quick work of locks.
Grandma's gone, sit down by the fire,
forget her screams upon the pyre.
Forget the chants and spells she said,
Grandma dear is best off dead.
The maiden trapped in attic yonder
has screaming demons for an eye,
offering bloody kisses to the hero
who for want of love will die.
Stay a while and wait for light
or darkness shall take your heart,
take the weapon of hope or hate
before in the house you dart.
Night Nuptial Untitled
By Sharla Anderson By Sharla Anderson

Luna, his ravenous consort Nameless wayfarer

lures the soul from mired lot roam the rancid banks of river-rot
though crawlers feast on atrous flesh where dead things collide cloyingly
nebulae cloaks her zeal as veils where dryads drink the screams of men
for he, she dance the aisles of ether where black wind twine its jarring hymns
thine bride in polished perilous glow among hinged and legioned limbs
enthralls his gait thru marsh and blight
her eye between each rusted limb One who laps aphotic laughter of the loam
of cankerous forest throat entrust the night torch of moon and madness
to the next grim and gloaming fiend
Behold, his waiting bride, a wanting prize
sighs her lucent laughing flame
upon his black and bloated gut
tread she, the ashen path of heaven
to watch him prey fervently
 Terror Tube
The Munsters & The Addams Family
By Kraven: The She-Wolf

The year was 1964 as two new series hit the airways. Both sitcoms, both roughly
playing to the same fan base and both shows dealing with unconventional families. Both
shows even ran for the same amount of time, just two seasons each with one airing on ABC
the other CBS. This year in the fall will mark both shows 50th Anniversary and thanks to
never ending re-runs airing both are beloved today as they were back then.

The Munsters: The family we horror fans

wanted to live with and the family everyone on the
block feared and ran from. But this family of
monsters was just as lovable as them damn Brandies
but not as so annoying. Making up the household was
mother Lilly, a sweet vampire who loved her family,
her son Eddie, her father known as Grandpa who
turned out to be Dracula himself and the very normal
looking and boring niece Marilyn. But the stand out
of this family was the dad, very loveable, sweet and
always there for his family. Herman, the man of the
house, was modeled after the Universal studios 1931
horror classic Frankenstein. But this Monster was no killer but a gentle father caring for his loved
ones.

Each week the family would get into some kind of wacky dilemma that was as funny as any
sitcom of the day. Most of the craziness was caused by something Grandpa cooked up in his lab
down in the cellar or some kind of hair brained thing Herman got himself into with or without
Grandpa’s involvement. Over the two years the show ran, other classic Universal monsters did guest
spots such as The Wolf man and The Gill man from Creature From The Black Lagoon in his only
true appearance outside of his 3 films. All episodes of the original series were shot in black & white
but in 1966 shortly after the show ended its run, a color movie was filmed called Munster Go Home
with all members of the cast with the exception of actress Beverly Owens who played Marilyn. In
1981,a new film based on the series was shot as a TV movie again with the main cast as The
Munsters Revenge.
 In 1988, with an all new cast, the series was brought into the modern day of the 80's with The
Munsters Today. Running just one year longer than the original series, the show was not as good
as the classic series and its cast not as loveable but it was a good show and gave the Munsters a
whole new generation of fans that may have not seen the original show in its years of re-runs. By
the late 1990's, The Munsters returned again with two all new TV made movies, one for Halloween
and a year later one for Christmas. In 2012, a new try to bring back the series was attempted with
a one hour pilot shown just before Halloween with a more updated look to the classic family.
Although it was funny….I thought the less than monster look of the new family of Munsters didn’t
fly with the network and the pilot was not picked up for a series run. For now, The Munsters rest
with no talk of bringing back our beloved monster family but I’m sure one day they will return.

The Addams Family: Like The Munsters,

The Addams Family was a fun creepy little sitcom
with lots of fun funny antics from all the members of
the family. Morticia the mother was a striking beauty
with long black hair and skin tight black dress, her
husband Gomez, his brother Fester and Morticia’s
mother known only as Grandmama. She and Gomez
had two children, a boy Pugsly and a girl Wednesday,
who were funny, creepy and just the kind of kids we
wish we played with at that age. Rounding out the
household was Lurch, the hulking family butler.

Unlike their Monster counter parts, The Addams were human in appearance but lived in a
old creepy house, loved the darker side of life and were anything but Brandy like. They were the
kind of family we horror fans would like enjoyed living with. Although the main family were
human …..other members of the house were not so human like. Cousin IT was a little hairy creature
with top hat and wide rim gasses. He lived at the top of the house in a little room to fit his little size.
He spoke in a language all his own even though everyone else could understand him. The other odd
member of the home was Thing, (my favorite). Thing was just a hand and only a hand that lived in
a box and could move from room to room and appear somewhere else by way of another box in that
room. A little note to fans here….actor Ted Cassidy who played Lurch also played Thing as well.
Bet you didn’t know that…but now you do.

The Addams Family was based on a comic strip from artist Charles Addams who worked
for the New Yorker in the 1930's, unlike The Munsters who were mainly based on the Universal
Monsters of the 1930's and 40's. In the comic strip, the family were only called The Family and
when ABC wanted to turn the comic into a new TV series, the producers use the name of their
creator to give the family a name and that’s how The Addams Family got their name. The series
also made up the characters names as well since Charles never fully gave names to his family cast
in the strip.

Like The Munsters, The Addams lived in the real world with real worries, and dealt with real
world issues. They were just like any other loving family but with a darker twist. After the show
had its two year run it was re-born as a Saturday morning cartoon series for kids in 1973. Then in
1977, a new TV movie starring the cast aired on October 30th called Halloween With The Addams
Family. The 1980's were a quiet time for the Addams until in 1991when a new feature film emerged
staring Raul Julia and Angelica Huston hit theaters. The new cast played very well and gave new
life to the spooky family. In 1993, a sequel called Addams Family Values followed and in early
2000's, a 3rd film with a new cast was sent direct to video. In the late 90's a new TV series also came
about as well.

Both The Munsters and The Addams Family hit a spot for us horror fans growing up. We
wanted to live with them, befriend their kids and who of us didn’t make a Thing box out of an old
shoe box (yeah well, our publisher and myself both did that). Today even with new generations of
kids both these fun, funny and spooky families are still remembered and beloved. For some of us
it was our first taste of horror long before watching R rated films. Both shows were spooky and yet
funny and who didn’t want to hang in Grandpas lab or play catch with Herman. Though re-runs of
the classics shows and newer films and series both The Munsters and The Addams Family with live
on forever within minds and our hearts.
 Tuesday at 7pm
By Allen W. Yoakum
The man walked into the bar and put
two dollars in front of him. The bartender
came, snatched up one of them and filled a glass
with ice and coke from the fountain gun from
under the bar. Nothing was said between them
but a familiar look passed over each of their
faces. The bartender looked at the clock and it
read 6:50 pm. The coke drinker, who was
wearing an off the rack business suit and cheap
shoes watched the other patrons drink their
wines, hard liquor and beer with a greed and
hunger in his eyes. A sound of the cuckoo
clock chirping startled the man in the cheap suit
and he took in a deep breath.
A few minutes after 7 pm, in walked a
man wearing a high quality suit that obviously
had not been pressed for days. The man in the
cheap suit watched as the young man in the
good suit walked up to the bar, slapped down a
ten dollar bill and ordered a double Crown
Royal. The young man glared at the amber
fluid as if he hated it and loved it at the same
time. The man in the cheap suit waited and
thought about what he was about to do. He
wondered how long it would go on but he knew
he couldn't hurry the process.
The young man in the unpressed suit got
up and went to the restroom. The man in the
cheap suit followed. As luck would have it they
were alone. The young man splashed water on
his face and took in deep breaths. Not really
seeing a good time to say something the Coke
drinker cleared his throat. The young man
looked at him in the mirror.
“I'm not putting from the rough so just
back the hell off.” The man in the cheap suit
just held up his hands and said.
“James, I know you're not gay. I also
know you want to drink that Crown Royal so
bad you'd kill to do it.” The young man turned
around and looked at the man who spoke his
name.
“How do you know my name? I don't
know you.”
“I'm Greg and no you don't. I'm here to
help. I'm the one who made sure you got the
business card with the name of this bar and a
certain time on it” The young man named
James nodded and pulled it out of his pocket. It
had the name of the bar on it in gold letters and
“To be free be here at 7 pm. Tuesday” written
on the back of it.
“How did you know I'm a.... well you
know.”
“Can't get yourself to say it can you?
You're a drunk! You're two inches from being
fired from your computer firm and let's just say
it, you're not performing up to par. I can make
the beast go away James. But I want something
from you.” Greg knew he had little time to do
what needed to be done. James glanced at the
door, then at Greg and cocked his head.
“Make the thirst of addiction go away?
You could do that?” James' hands were now
shaking and he was starting to cry.
“Yes I can make that happen but I want
something from you. I want 5% of your income
for two years and 2% for three more after that.
Do I have your word?” Greg started taking off
his cheap coat and put it on the hook of the
stall. James leaned against the sink in the small
room and was now shaking visibly all over.
“If you'll make it go away I'll give you
anything you want.” Greg smiled a kind smile
and he put his hands on either side of James'
head. James' eyes went wide and a spark started
to dance in them. Soon there was a bright glow
and that glow flowed into Greg's eyes like rivers
of light. The flow ended with a small snap like
a tiny lightning storm taking place. Greg
released James and now both men were
breathing hard. Greg leaned up against the wall
with a trickle of blood coming out of his eyes.
James was crying like a baby.
The two men stayed there in the
restroom for a short while then Greg got up and
put his coat back on. He pulled out a piece of
paper with his address on it and his full name.
He stuffed it in James' hand and helped him up.
James had a look of shock on his face as if he
smelled something rotten and sour.
“Did I crap myself?” Greg smiled and
shook his head.
“It's what I have done to you. You can't
stand the smell of alcohol anymore. Dinner
parties may be a problem for you, but you'll get
used to it. Come on, we'd better get out of here.
Hold your nose.” James did as he was told but
it still could not prevent the stench of the bar
from filling up his sinus cavities.
“Oh God the stink! How can they stand
it? Look, I'll send you a check in a month. I
have to go!” James went running out of the bar
as if he was on fire. Greg watched the whole
thing with amusement and happiness. Then he
smelled the drinks and something came over
him. Something like a black hole came alive in
his gut, a hole that needed to be filled with
alcohol. He knew he only had the one dollar
left so he couldn't buy a drink but sitting on the
bar in front of him was the Crown Royal
already paid for and ready to go. He knew he
needed to run away like James but something
kept him moving closer toward the drink. Just
as he was about to pick it up and down it in one
gulp the bartender's hand picked up the drink
and shook his head.
“You know what you have to do Greg.
There's a meeting on 23rd street at St. Jude's.
Get going or you know what'll happen. I won't
have the man who saved my life dead by drink.
Now go.”
“Bob you're a good man. Ok I'll go just
give me a coke to drink. Huh?”
“One coke then you're gone.” Bob
poured out a coke and Greg drank it like as if he
had been in the desert for days. Bob then
pointed again to the door. Greg walked to St.
Jude's, which was only four blocks away. He
passed a wine store and two liquor stores and if
he had any money he would have bought a
hundred dollars worth.
Greg got to the meeting a little late but
that was ok. Everyone was welcome to show
up anytime for the meeting. When it was time
for him to stand up he said:
“My name is Greg and I am an alcoholic
and today has turned out to be a good day.” The
rest of the group acknowledged him and the
meeting moved on. Greg looked over the group
and saw one man in a good suit who looked like
he needed his help. When the group got up for
coffee he put a business card in the coat pocket
of the man with the good suit with the name of
Bob's bar on it and the words “If you want to be
free, be here on Tuesday at 7 pm”.
About Allen Yoakum: I began writing at the
age of 13 after reading “Christine” twice and
over the years started and stopped. I live in the
Midwest and have gone to college and gotten
my AA in general studies. My ability to write
comes from talent and developing that talent
over the years.
 Geo Goes Home
By Karoly Lencses
Joyce and Peary had the best chance to
win. They had been lovers before they applied
for the casting of the Colony Live Show. Five
or ten years ago (they very rarely dared to think
that this five years was actually ten or more)
they won a previous, one of the most famous
survivor live shows, the Amazon (they became
survivors, who preferred dreaming about the
future to dwelling on the past), that made them
really famous in a moment and rich for a while.
For a short while. But they could not stop
spending money, so it was the perfect time to
earn some money again. What else could have
been more convenient than another reality
show?
The time they spent in the
South-American rain forest under extreme
circumstances affected them in a different way
than the producers of the show had anticipated.
The bizarre menu offered by the jungle, the
heat, the high humidity and the parasites in and
on their bodies fused the two strangers into a
couple. They fell in love, and instead of
separately, they stopped dwelling on the past
together.
But they did think about the future, the
challenge after the Colony. Joyce fantasized
herself living by the ocean, having cocktails in
a bar hidden by palm trees; Peary was speeding
with his sports car after love-making, and to be
honest it occurred to both of them that they
were throwing money about even DURING
love-making.)
Kink and Georgina were in a totally
different situation. They had known each other
for just about four really hard years, when they
had arrived under the dome simulator of the
colony somewhere in the stone desert of
Nevada. Locked in. As it was known, far not
only from Las Vegas, but far from any byway of
the smallest town or village. They both were
accommodated in the eastern zone, therefore
every hour, minute and second was about them,
and this was the hardest for Geo. She cried that
this whole situation was too much – although
the real trial had just begun.
They did not know too much about
Kink, because he did not tell people too much.
But, as he had to spend the majority of his time
with Geo, he opened up towards her the most.
They even talked sometimes.
Usually, there was not a single sign of
emotion on Kink’s face. Georgina was
surprised when she got to know that the man
had been a well-known top model in the near
past, and once, in a dark hour, due to
occupational hazard he had been so terrified by
aging that he eradicated all nerves from his face
by botox, so now he felt nothing. Pro and
contra: he still did not have wrinkles. He lived
a lonely life. He liked being alone. The stage,
the glamour of the fashion world had killed
something in him - something necessary to live
an ordinary life. He had tried on all the
thousand-dollar-suits, he had worn golden
watches of gem, he drove the most expensive
cars, he dated with the most desirable women
on earth. After that, he wanted to but he could
never become ordinary. He did not long for any
company. And he was not afraid of loneliness
either – this is why he was a weirdo.
These four people stayed: Joyce, Peary,
Kink and Geo - they were in the final of the
Colony Show. Originally there were five of
them: there had been a young guy from
Alabama, called Teofil. He was ten years
younger than Kink, he was Geo’s age. It had
been really comfortable for Kink as long as Teo
was there. Kink could be alone easily,
contemplating as an outsider. Kink exactly
knew how much Geo missed Teo. Geo and Teo
– Jin and Jang, Kink thought. It could hurt her
like losing her better part. When Teo had
walked through the door a few months earlier,
Kink was left alone with the girl. Her mood
changes had started that day.
There had not been any news about Teo
since that day. He had simply disappeared. But
as if Geo had been still waiting for him.
Geo was standing by the window of the
living room hesitating to go back to the
bedroom to push the panic button so that she be
sent home. She felt disappointed, because she
had already done that, but nothing happened.
She had to continuously remind herself that they
were not on the Earth. The others kept saying
that. All the time. Even Kink. Once the cupola
had been flooded by white smoke, and none of
them had the slightest idea what happened
while they were knocked out. How much time
had passed? Had any time passed at all?
Seemingly nothing had been changed.
Everything was in order. Everyone was at the
same place where they had lost consciousness.
Joyce and Peary, as they spent the most of the
day in the bed anyway, they awoke there. Kink
sat on the toilet with his pants down. Geo was
sitting at the kitchen table and reading a
newspaper – and she awoke there, as if she just
dozed off a little over the newspaper. Outside,
there was desert, sand and stones as far as the
horizon like before. Daytime, mirage was
dancing above the heated quartz stones;
nighttime, remote mountains like hooded
figures were rising above the blunt, black
landscape.
Then, a few days later, a message
arrived in the middle of the night. They were
startled out of their sleep at the same time by
static noises all around coming from the walls.
Gerogina may never be able to forget the
moment, when the noises, beeps, clankings and
squealings started making up words – the first
live show from Mars started. Welcome to the
Red Planet. Surface temperature is minus 70
Celsius…
That was the moment when Teo decided
to bring the truth to light. He did not even put
on a spacesuit, this is how certain he was about
his idea. After he had left, Geo was the only
one who believed that Teo was chasing some
hot waitresses in a casino in Vegas. The others
were sure that Teo had burnt to ashes the
moment he had exited.
Geo did not like this idea. Blah-blah…
she was desperate. She felt like crashing the
unbreakable window by a chair and she even
tried it a few times. And so the chair broke into
pieces, but the glass was untouched without a
scratch. The pieces bounced from the glass
back to her chest.
Of course, Joyce and Peary did not
surmise anything about Geo’s state – they were
just snogging in the bed or under the shower in
the crossfire of the cameras. They simply didn’t
care about anything. As she collapsed of the
pain, Kink’s only words were: this is Mars, you
cannot just walk away. And Geo started
sobbing more and more.
And now Kink was afraid that the same
thing was about to happen.
He was lying on the couch watching the
rocks covered by red dust and remote mountains
through the panorama window around the place.
He thought that it was coming, another
Georgina style moody outburst. For a moment
he stared outside and his mind was gone
very-very far, without any thoughts, and the
view got mingled in front of his eyes. For a
moment he saw only the silhouette of the girl,
but it looked like a rock cut from black paper,
beyond the window, far away in the desert.
He shook his head. Geo was still
standing by the window staring through it with
her hands on her hip.
“Kink, you know, sometimes I feel that
we are still on the Earth, and they are just
fooling us.”
 “If I were you I wouldn’t try it again.
What if there are some defects somewhere on
the cupola material? It is minus degrees
outside. And our head would get blown up by
the pressure.”
“But we can’t remember the travel at all.
Isn’t that strange?”
“For me the strangest thing is that you
can’t accept that this is not the Earth to simply
walk out despite the fact that nothing happens
when you push the panic button. All of us
signed the contract, so they are not obliged to
let us know if we pass”, – said Kink as he sat up
– “and everyone has passed, because we are still
here. We all wanted this. And we are all here.
Probably everyone on the Earth is watching you
whining day after day.”
Geo did not turn around – she knew she
couldn’t read any emotion from the man’s face.
“Just think a little, what a great idea! In
one episode you are in the simulator colony of
Earth. Then you get hibernated in front of the
audience, you are put in a spaceship and in the
next episode you wake up on the Mars.
Viewers want to control everything. They can
decide when you can realize your position,
whether you are down there or up here. They
can act like God. This is a main characteristic
of the mankind, admit it. Maybe they can even
vote for the next events to happen. Please, Geo,
calm down. If you break another chair you will
have to have your breakfast on the floor.”
Geo turned around and looked at him,
and Kink felt sorrow in his heart as he saw her
eyes soaking.
Come, Geo, sit he…
But this moment they both had to look
at the ceiling.
Walls were making low noises and the
steel armor was silently dragged around the
cupola, just like a curtain. Lights went off for a
moment, but suddenly neonlights – from lamps
secretly hidden while unused - flashed and
flooded the livingroom with yellow light. It
was not blinding or didn’t hurt her eyes, still it
made Geo feel uncomfortable as she saw the
light on Kink’s rigid face. It reminded her of
the feeling when someone tries to light a candle
the middle of a storm. She even embraced
herself, staring at the floor as she was walking
and sat down next to Kink.
The two other team members stepped
into the light from the darkness of the bedroom
next door; they were chuckling and happily
embracing each other. Joyce took the last seat
on the sofa beside Kink. He squinted at Joyce
and nodded with a little embarrassed smile
while his attention was drawn to her tiny pants.
“What’s the program for today?” –
asked Peary sitting down on the floor at their
legs.
Kink shrugged and said “We will see.”
The conversation ended.
Now the four people were sitting in
silence and only the dead walls were whispering
like dead leaves flying in the autumn wind.
Buzzing and humming was infusing the room
and Geo, just like the others, looked around and
her jaw dropped. She wished to get in a forest
so much that she even felt the touch of the
cooling breeze on her arms. She felt the
gooseflesh rise over her body.
She was searching for the cause of the
humming. She hoped that it was a fly under the
glass bell that proves they had never left the
Earth. The static noise – like someone tried to
tune an old radio –went silent after a long beep.
“Three, two, one, and… Good morning,
settlement! Things have happened since we last
met. Well, you all know what is it about.”
Geo’s shoulders twitched. After a little
pause (during which she heard her heartbeat so
loud that she looked around involuntarily):
“Well, dear Georgina, based on the
votes of the audience… just a minute… I am
opening the envelope… yes, here it is…
Georgina, you go home!
Geo was sitting in shock, motionless,
only her eyes grew wide. By the time she came
around, Kink, Peary and Joyce had been staring
at her waiting for some reaction. There was a
little teardrop in Kink’s eye. Geo leant towards
him and hugged him.
She had planned this moment, millions
of times, what she would do if she got away
from this place at last but now sadness run over
her instead of joy. She was clinging on Kink
tightly and over his shoulders she caressed
Joyce. Peary stood up from the floor.
“Thank you for everything.” – she said
and pushed Kink off, who wiped the tears off
his eyes.
Geo stood up and hugged Peary as well.
“You have three minutes to leave the
colony. You will leave the base through Gate
1.”
***
Before entering the corridor, she waved
back to them for the last time. She found it very
difficult to move in the spacesuit. The
sluice-gate closed behind her. Something drew
to a close that she had never thought to be hard
to leave behind. Anyway, the thought, which
was Joyce’s and Peary’s belief - snugged in her
mind like the probably non-existent fly under
the glass bell. She had to find out. Maybe they
were right. It is a waste of time and energy to
think about the past. She would miss them
badly so she decided not to think about the past.
It made her smile and she felt already relieved.
It could work out.
She left the corridor bathing in glaring
white light and arrived to the front of the
cupola, but the heavy curtain around the glass
was still closed. She got a bit heavy-hearted.
She was outside with the ground under
her feet. It was dawning, the sun had not risen
yet. Beautiful white rags of clouds were
floating in the sky just like in her dreams. This
is what she had always dreamt of. It was the
Earth, no doubt.
She saw the town in the West. Vegas
wasn’t that far. Her heart pounded faster and
faster. Her breath was hot and her helmet
steamed up. She couldn’t see anything because
of the vapor. She managed to quickly
disengage the helmet from the suit in spite of
the awkwardly cumbersome gloves. She took
the helmet off and without waiting a second she
took a deep breath and the helmet fell on the
stones from her hands.
This is Earth. I told you. I always
knew…
She just realized that she was alone.
Silence. In the silence, Geo turned around
cautiously as if she did not want to wake up the
sleeping bleak desert. Desert. And stones in
the desert. Tumbleweed among the stones.
This was Earth. The shadow slowly crawled
away from stones like a mutant black bug, as
the sun was rising. Not a soul was to be seen.
Geo put off the spacesuit and she started
walking towards the town.
Walking turned to jogging then to
running. Vegas was just in front of her.
Attracting her. She wanted people. She wanted
sparkling, colorful neon commercials;
sweat-smelled bustle. Sweating and gasping for
breath she ran under the shadow of the first high
skyscraper. There were more and more
sunshine above the town, but the town was still
sleeping.
Georgina was standing there perplexed
and did not know what to do. She walked up to
the pavement, to a news stand and looked into
a shop-window across the road. It was perfectly
empty. The shelves were packed with products
but untouched. There were no customers.
Vegas never sleeps… - she thought.
She turned around. The stand wasn’t
locked as usual and “Open” plate was hanging
on the door. She puckered her brows and she
was somewhat sure that if she had gone back to
try she would have found the door open. It
became more and more weird. This made her
have an odd feeling as well. It seemed like
everybody had left the town in a hurry. As if
people had been wiped off the face of the earth.
 She stepped to the news stand and Sun was slowly creeping above the town
picked up the first newspaper from the top of expelling the shadows from among the
the pile and read the headline: Final countdown buildings.
coming to an end. Two days left until the
departure of the last Mars ferries. Geo threw
the paper on the ground and picked up another
one: Murderous Sun. Earth shield cracked. She
found a third one. Her heart was drumming.
She couldn’t breathe. Her hands were shaking.
Just a few more days and humanity can watch
the Colony, the new Earth Live Show from the
planet chosen as our new home, the Mars!
Thanks to the brave voluntaries who decided to
stay here. For us. For mankind.
She did not have time to get frightened.
A huge screen on the wall of the hotel opposite
her turned on and dragged her out of the shock
of the newspapers. The tiny light spot in the
middle of the screen extended and the face and
the voice of Jane Gold, the famous presenter,
appeared on it. She was so big, brightly and
loud that Geo almost tumbled down. She threw
the newspaper away and walked to the middle
of the road, staring at the screen
uncomprehendingly. She had to bend her head
back to see the screen above.
Jane Gold’s voice was blowing over the
town as if she had spoken from an empty metal
barrel: Hardly has the show of the shows
started, voluntary organizations want to shut
down the Colony by organizing campaigns and
demonstrations. According to Senator Bruce,
the Leader of Western Marsland: bureaucracy
has been transmitted up to the sky along with
the people. And this is not at all welcome. It is
the interest of secret societies that those people
can never escape from that hell of the Earth and
every action they take is to increase tune-in. GP
described it as a torment and anti-human act;
human rights organizations demonstrate
demanding to find another alternative of
following the recovery of the Earth. For
example, let’s send monkeys or rats, and if they
don’t get evaporated by the sun, we can return
too. But do not play a deadly game with people.
 Welcome back my bloody readers to the new year of horror reading. As you may have
read already, we have had major issues with our computers, so getting that up was primary
to the magazine. Because of that, we only have two books for review. First we have collection
of short stories in a format unseen so far. And lastly is a story from the Wild West thought
they had it bad and then it got worse. So enjoy this shorten version and keep reading!
D.W. Jones

Blue Plate Special by Harold Kempka

When I first received this book, I saw that it was another collection of short stories. But what
made this different from other collections is that the stories are shorter and it is great for a quick read
when you are short of time. Kempka manages to squeeze in 25 stories in this short format full of
little hor d’oeuvres of horror.
One of the stories I enjoyed was The Patient Down the Hall. Henry is brought into the
hospital after being arrested for unspeakable crimes. But he will be treated for something more than
his compulsion to harm. Another story I liked is Emancipation. Jake is a hitchhiker looking for a
ride and after a long wait is finally picked up by a woman in a camper.
After talking, she invites him to her campsite and thinking he may get lucky
goes along. But it’s not what it seem. One more story I enjoyed is the
Nanny. Amy answers an ad for the nanny for two kids. All looks good but
something is off. Then she sees the kids and it might be more than she can
handle.
Kempka has done a great job with these quick read stories perfect
for the short bus or train ride to give you a little taste of horror every day.
The stories are in the vein of Tales of the Darkside where the stories are
pretty straight forward with a twist that is either good or bad for the main
character.
I recommend this book for anyone on the run who can’t go without
their horror fix. It is sold in the usual places like Amazon.

A Bloody, Bloody Mess in the Wild, Wild West by Justin Bienvenue

This is the first novel I have read that is set in the old time west. I
have read short stories
set in that time frame and liked it, so I wondered if a full novel would have
the same effect. It would have to be engaging and this novel by Bienvenue
was exactly that.
The story takes place in the town of Toomswood. Life is tough for
them and the world has not been kind to its residents. Any hope for
improvement is just met with doubt and fighting amongst the people. But
it is about to get worse.
Toomswood sits on an oil deposit that could make life better. They
deny everyone until smooth talking Javier Jones comes into the picture and they accept his offer.
Jones took control of everything and rules with an iron fist. Little do they know that Jones made a
deal with a mysterious man to make him invincible. Now it’s up to Emerson Shaw, the former
sheriff’s son, to convince the town to overthrow Jones and start from scratch.
Bienvenue does a good job with putting you into the setting of the wild west in his story and
makes you feel as if you are there. His expression of the hopelessness of the town in his story,
which is an ongoing theme in this story, oozes from the words he writes. The beginning of the story
goes back and forth a little between the present and past which slows the story a little but it picks
up for an exciting ending
I recommend this book for a taste of horror with the wild west, which you rarely see. Check
this book at Amazon.
Behind The Screams
Scream For Halloween 2
By AL J. Vermette

Saturday night October 26, a mere week after Blood Fest 10, I hosted the 2nd Annual “Scream
For Halloween” nightclub party event. The event this year was moved from New York City to “The
Bar” in Ocoee Florida near where I have been living for the past few months. The location was
wonderful with owner Travis letting me set up the place with spooky creatures and spider webs
everywhere. There was a party within the party with the birthday of 24 year old Regina and her
friends who were all in costume making for a great contest later in the night.

This year’s Scream For Halloween party beat out last year’s hands down due to the venue
itself. “The Bar” itself is more than your local watering hole for this place has not only has pool
tables and darts but has its own sandwich shop as part of its location. Now how cool is that. The
staff too were great as I had two of the bars staff…that night playing The Little Mermaid and Snow
White helped me out with the Costume and Scream Contests as judges. As for myself, I hosted the
night as a demonic version of myself…..not very far from the truth I must say.

The costume contest was one of the best I have ever seen in so many years. Among the many
cool costumes were a few stand outs such as Tron, a home made light suit just like in the two films.
One girl came as Britney Spears from her videos …..and what would be a costume contest without
a sexy witch or two. But the big winner as judged by The Little Mermaid and Snow White was Vin
Diesel’s Riddick complete with shaved head and duel guns strapped to his back.

The Scream Contest two was a hit and won by the birthday girl herself Regina with a room
blasting scream as we done as any horror movie Scream Queen.

The nights music was played by a DJ who was great to work with and spun some good tunes
all throughout the night. Set up as part of the event was vendor Christy Lynch with her hand crafted
Jewelry that looked amazing. Aiding me all night was The Little Mermaid Carr and Snow White
who could not have been better in helping me with the event.

I look forward to doing more events with Travis and his “The Bar” location in the future.
Look for more events with us and Travis on our web site.
 The Basement
I sit and wait. Today is the day I have
been vigorously training for. When I hear the
turn of the lock, my father’s heavily wheezing
and footsteps descending the old, wooden stairs,
I know that I must act quickly. I’m growing
very impatient with every second, with every
infernal ‘drip, dripping’ noise from the loose
piping. I hobble over to the only source of light
in this suburban dungeon known as a basement.
A sliver of light shines through the boarded up
window like a ray sent from heaven. I hold my
pale white hand up to the light and stare at it.
The light rejuvenates me; it feels so warm to my
skin. I can hardly stand to gaze upon my own
skin. It reminds me of staring at a corpse.
I lost count of how many years I’ve been
down here. The day after mother died is when
father put me down here. Reflecting back, it
seems like a lifetime ago. I don’t know why my
father beats me. I have long since stopped
trying to figure it out anymore. I suppose it
gives him some sort of depraved satisfaction.
Maybe he likes playing God. No god should
ever be so cruel to his own creation though. I
haven’t the faintest idea of how tying your own
flesh and blood up to a rack and stick needles
under his finger nails could give anyone
satisfaction.
I don’t know of the goings on of the
outside world. Maybe that sort of behavior is
not frowned upon. Maybe it is sociably
acceptable to do this. As I said before, I
wouldn’t have the faintest idea. The only thing
I really have to be grateful for are these books
that Father left down here for me to read. I
couldn’t imagine how many times I have read
Anne Rice’s books. Funny, she is really the
only female that has spoken to me over these
past years. I think I love her. I must remember
to try and find her when I get out of this place.
By C.V. Hack
For a couple of months I have been
working out. Pushups, sit-ups, that sort of stuff.
I’m quite strong now; I would guess my age
would be around eighteen… Possibly nineteen?
It doesn’t matter, I’ve grown stronger and father
has gotten sicker and weaker as years tear at his
flesh like an incurable cancer. He won’t expect
this. I think I’ll torture him, maybe even lock
him down here. I haven’t decided yet.
The thought of me being evil for
wanting vengeance probably crept into the back
of your mind like that of an eight legged
arachnid. But if you only had a clue, just a
glimpse at how much he has put me through.
He did skewer my left eye out with a rusty
screwdriver after all. Quite brutal when you
think about it. Bit some of my fingers off as
well. Sometimes I can feel his teeth viciously
tearing into my-oh, my apologies, sometimes I
get carried away. I’m sure someone of your
manner is not interested in the rather unpleasant
details of my confinement.
Hours pass by; the moon is high in the
sky. I peer through the little hole in the boarded
up window and watch the waning moon. Very
beautiful indeed. I don’t know why, but
memories of everything my father has put me
through flood into my head like a tidal wave. I
suddenly start to remember all the horrible
things he’s done to me, I start to sweat, and all
the images swirling around in my head are
scaring me. I can see him now, with that
wicked smile plastered on his face and his eyes
glowing red like a demon’s from the pits of Hell
itself.
I almost scream when I hear the lock
turn, I hear my father descending the old,
wooden stairs, wheezing every step of the way.
He is so frail and weak. But I am so afraid.
Tears come to my eyes when I realize I can’t go
through with it. Fear has paralyzed me, I can no
longer think straight. As my father’s withered
arms grab me and begin to tie me up to the rack,
I hear a voice inside me ever so quietly say
“This is your home, you will always be here,
and this is where you belong.” I start to sob
uncontrollably as I accept what the voice is
telling me. Maybe if I think happy thoughts,
like me living on that beautiful moon with my
mother. Hopefully, if I can take myself away to
another world; one without pain, the pain in my
world won’t hurt so much.
 What Waits in the Darkness
By Keanu Ross-Cabrera
The earth is reclaiming its borrowed
land, slowly collapsing trenches and filling shell
craters. Gently swallowing heroes. Bringing
them home. The solider sits alone, unmoving,
at the bottom of a narrow corpse filled trench.
He is almost buried by the dead. The acid taste
of smoke fills his mouth and lungs. He can
smell the wet red earth and the nauseatingly
sweet stench of rotting flesh. He can feel the
weight of the dead man on his lap who open
eyes stare unseeing at the barren orange sky.
The soldier’s ragged uniform is wet with dark
blood. Only some of it is his.
The soldier sits alone with death, the
red earth, the smoke, and the stench of corpses.
He can hear the song again, faintly drifting from
watery shell holes beyond the rusting wire and
the cracked concrete. He can hear it in the
corpses, in the wounds, and in the open, vacant
eyes of the corpse on his lap. It is a soft,
familiar melody that he cannot quite make out.
And he begins to forget home.
As blood-red sun sets, an invisible hand
is drawing a blanket shadows over the wrecked
ramparts, empty shell casings, and broken
bodies. It would be a new night, but they will
come all the same for the bloodletting.
Past the rotting mud caked sandbags and
rusting wire, the horrors are waiting, lurking
among the shell craters and the rotting bones.
They will come with the dark and the war will
finally end.
From off in the distance come howling
and barks, braying and roars, hellish hunting
intermingling and filling the silence. They are
boiling from the cracked and broken earth. The
horrors stick to the shadows, shaking off the
blood and mud, and unleashing their cacophony
into the dusk. The soldier can feel them. He
will be hunted among the corpses like a rat in a
maze. But he cannot die here, there is still
home. He has to go home.
As the soldier stands the corpse tumbles
from his lap and is lost among the multitude of
dead.
The sun has almost disappeared behind
the hills, he slings the rifle over his shoulder
and pulls himself over the parapet. The
soldier’s shadow stretches before him. He sees
the flat land, red earth riddled and ruined by
war. There are no trees. No hills. Nothing but
the twisting and snaking trenches and rusted
hulks of armored vehicles, half submerged into
the hungry soil. His back to the setting sun, the
soldier shambles through the desolation his legs
aching, head throbbing, one foot, then another,
limping as he goes.
The bloodshot sky has almost sunk to
night. The first, new night. One without
blinding star shells, unbroken by searchlights
and deafening gunfire.
The hunting calls grow louder. The
soldier’s rifle is heavy and each step is harder
and harder. But the shadows stretch and the
spaces between them begin to fill. The soldier
forces his legs to run. He stumbles, past shell
holes and the submerged wrecks of war
machines. Past trucks, and tanks, and the ruins
of great buildings sunk to rubble and broken
masonry. There was grass here and trees once.
As fast as he flees, he cannot escape.
The soldier runs till his legs refuse to go on, till
the darkness presses in and he can barely see his
hands or the ground beneath his feet. In the
dark the terrible crying and the faint song come
from all around him. His feet drag and his mind
races. He does not see salvation till it is almost
upon him. A wreck, half swallowed by the
earth, looms out of the dark. A rusted armored
transport, a tomb smelling of dust and ash and
things undisturbed since the early days of the
war. He finds the door, wrenches it open.
Corpses greet him. Charred flesh,
blackened bones and silent skulls whose mouths
are open and screaming. They are still strapped
into their seats, a deathly praetorian guard that
disappears into the black as he shuts the door
behind him. The outside world is gone, muffled
behind thick, charred armor. There is only the
darkness that he slowly feels his way through,
sliding his feet forward, wincing as his boots
crunch and kick up dust and ash.
That night he dreams of the little girl
alone in her room. Flames lick the windows.
She hugs her knees, staring at the door looming
before her. The soldier calls out, he has no
voice.
There is a knocking at the door that
grows louder and louder. Someone hammering
harder and harder. It buckles, hinges shaking.
The girl is muttering under her breath, don’t
come in, don’t come in, but the door is
breaking, splintering and her eyes go wide as
the thing bursts through. She hugs her knees,
screwing up her eyes tight, her mouth opens
wide in terror.
The screams wake him. And the
gunfire. He can hear the dying men out there in
the darkness. They die, slaughtered in their
sleep, cut down as they run, fighting alone or
with others. But they die. Every last one of
them, they die alone. The cries grow softer, one
by one fading out with the gunfire and the
hellish hunting halls. There is silence once
more. Silence, his own breathing. And then,
once more, that faint, distant melody.
But it is no longer as faint as before.
The soldier can make out words, verses. He can
hear the strange, beautiful voice.
The soldier vomits, doubling over and
heaving in the cramped, corpse-crowded
transport. The acrid smell of bile is blinding.
He thrusts out a hand to steady himself,
grabbing onto a charcoaled uniform. With a
snap the corpse comes apart and his stomach
jumps to his throat again. He dry heaves. The
soldier can hear soft footsteps, as if of a dancer,
from outside, slowly circling the submerged
wreck. He can make out each painful, beautiful
word of the song.
He wants to sleep, to slip away, to put
down his rifle. But his hands will not forget it.
He listens stomach heaving, unable to block out
the melody. He tries to remember the girl’s
face, tries to imagine comforting her. But there
is only the beautiful song. Huddled on the floor
among the seated corpses he sobs.
In the morning the blood sun will rise
over the empty battlefield, the trenches and
sunken, broken machines. From hidden
bunkers and shadowed hidings spaces men will
emerge into the desolate landscape. They will
blink at the new sun, dressed in dirty torn
uniforms. They will hold rifles in their grimy,
bloodied hands, rifle that they cannot leave
behind. As the sun rises they will abandon the
trenches, slowly head east and the rising sun,
towards the city, towards home. Their war is
over.
From the burnt out shell of an armored
carrier, drowned in the heavy mud, a man will
emerge. He will join the crowd in his dirty
uniform, clutching his rifle. The corpses still
strapped into their seats will watch him head
home.
 Dark Poetry
Disintegration
By Gary Hewitt

Body of limestone
Blood skies gargle
Spit in the eye
Nature’s boon

Don’t deny
Crumbling slow
With dolorous strength
Skin is scoured

Core exposed
Existence closed?
Thoughts watered
Diluted blood

In flowing mud
Eyes punctured
Cavity corrode
Legs explode

With preparation
For death’s migration
Disintegration.

About Gary Hewitt: Gary Hewitt is a raconteur who lives in a quaint little village in Kent. He
has written two novels which are currently being edited. His writing does tend to veer away
from what you might expect. He has had several short stories published as well as the occasional
poem. He enjoys both writing prose and poetry. His style of writing tends to feature edgy
characters and can be extremely dark. Some of his influences are James Herbert, Stephen King,
Bulgakov, Tolkein to name but a few. He is also a proud member of the Hazlitt Arts Centre
Writers group in Maidstone which features an eclectic group of very talented writers. He has a
website featuring his published works here: http://ghwt9996.wix.com/tales#!