Child of the Apocalypse, Part Three

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Opening the medicine cabinet, I grab anything that looks remotely helpful, such as “-icillin” or “Pain-killer” into my side satchel, pausing to read the side effects of one bottle.

Horror Holidays

     With the jingling of bells and people speaking of Santa and his damnable list, I feel a certain spirit of the season in the air, and not one that I enjoy. Call me old fashioned, but I think we should go back to the original winter holiday that was celebrated in December.
     Saturnalia!
     

     

Roman-invented, of course!

     Call me crazy (and many people have) but I think the original holiday was fine on it's own. The holiday was a little over a week long, with debauched parties and drunken revelry and gambling; masters served slaves, celebrations poured out into the streets and private gift-giving was thoroughly encouraged. Like many things the Romans did, they didn't do their celebrating half-assed.

     Now we have but one humble day, with two months of prep time! I am already sick of Christmas songs and it's not even the 5th of the month! I get to listen to Bill O'Reilly rant about people attacking Christmas while non-Christians let loose a torrent of rage if a school does anything related to religion, on a religion centered holiday.

     Far be it for me to have a problem with this most auspicious of days, but I cannot stand the final day of Christmas where everyone is forced out onto icy roads to go and visit family. I would much rather stay in my warm little tomb and drink coffee, but that makes me a hermit. No, can't have that! Let's drag the poor bastard out of his house and force him to endure being around people for a day in the name of... wait, why are we doing this again?

     To all of you, I wish a happy Saturnalia and a fond holiday season, but I am done with this holiday. Not enough spook or scare in the stocking so hung with care, nor enough creak and shriek to make me note that day of the week. No more I say, from the top of my lungs, no more will I pay! Let this whole Christmas thing go far, far away!

The Dark Life of Scott Winthrope, Part One

Scott rolled from his side, coughing and hacking as he tried to clear his parched throat. Looking with a bloodshot eye blearily around the room, he heaved a sigh as he caught sight of a shapely thigh half draped over his lower half, connected to a bass guitarist whose name he couldn’t quite remember at the moment, as it felt like miners were trying to crack open his skull as if it were the second gold rush. Lifting her thigh from his midsection, he swung his own legs over the side of the bed and raised his body up to a half sitting position, fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand. Scratching his back as he slipped his glasses on, Scott looked around the room in disgust.

Jacques Masterpiece, Part Four

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An hour came and went, and with it the rise of a portrait of the couple was created. Jacques invited them over from where they’d been perched on the edge of the fountain, allowing them to see the rough portrait he’d created, the canvas still drying in the dying Parisian dusk.

Demonic Visions Two

     A running anthology put together by the skilled hands of Chris Robertson, this next segment includes a little tale of mine I like to call Mythic.

Art by Steven Wenta, who can really nail down a macabre image.

     If you liked the first one then you should love this one, as it has all of the same authors! Yup, we all get together once again to tell a tale of woe and despair, all for your convenience and joy.

     The eBook can be found here, and is available for Kindle right now, though we'll soon see it with Nook and paperback as well. I'll keep you all posted.