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.

Majo's Tale, Part Four

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Majo pulled Joeia aside, looking him in the eyes. “So what now? Do we stumble into this city drunk? With the Dead possibly lurking in the shadows?”

And it Has Risen!

     Ah, the miracles that Voudou can do, especially when combined with a reasonable technician and cheap but good parts. While Corey (I didn't get his name but I named him Corey) got the replacement parts for my computer together, I decided I'd add a little of my own horror-fueled flair to try and add divine intervention on my computers repairs.

Real World Horror: Death Throes of a Great Computer

     Many of you may have noticed my lack of updates on the site. Some of that many may have actually wondered why this is. Part of it is because I'm entering a lazy stage where I just wish to rest on my laurels and post what I've stored up, so I have to do so sparingly to make this last until inspiration hits once more.
     The other reason, as of today, is my computer is emitting a death howl. the dying scream of an internal fan that must be replaced. I've left detailed instructions for the wife on how to get the computer to the repair place and what to do, but must be content with the fact I will be sans operating system for at least a week.
     Probably more.
     Alas, such is life in a modern age in a first world nation... I have to go without my computer for a week and I feel as if I am cut off from my life line. Perhaps I should be more thankful for the things I do have...
     Like the two spare computers I have that don't work.
     Really should get these things fixed...

Majo's Tale, Part Three

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Joeia smiled before moving forward, pointing and barking orders as he went. Several warriors went into the jungle to gather fallen branches, while the warrior from earlier came porting a sealed vase of Octli, easily half the size of the man himself. Placing it at Majo’s feet, Majo used his obsidian dagger to cut through the waxen seal, savoring the sour smell of the potent liquor that wafted up from the ceramic jar. Turning, he watched as the men used their spears to hook the torsos of the dead, dragging them into a relative pile. Three Dead lay upon each other, flensing the hide of one of the fallen comrades with the tentacles, blood slowly oozing from the wounds of the cold dead flesh, to be greedily lapped up by the twisting tentacles like the tongues of thirsty dogs.

Real World Horror: Heretical History isn't Helpful...

     Barrack Obama is by no means the greatest president we've ever had. He's probably not even in the top five... but one thing that he is is a smart man who knows history, both constitutional and otherwise. It was his job to know it and the driving force behind his own legal career.
     So when I read the headline, "Obama removes Under God from Gettysburg address!", I have to ask a simple question:
     Which one?

     In total there are five drafts for the Gettysburg Address, the first being the one our Commander-in-Chief just read off. The first, better known as the Nicolay Version, and the second drafts were written by Lincoln before the speech, while the third, fourth and fifth were written afterwards for charity auctions.
     So as I sit back, nursing my aching bones with a fresh cup of herbal tea, I get to read about the schmucks at the Liberty Counsel whine and moan that Obama didn't use the godly version. He did this for Ken Burns for his website, and read the version he was handed. I assume he had it checked over to make sure it was an accurate one, and for that I thank him.
     This is when my head hurts the worst... when History revisionists don't even realize how wrong they are. Go forth into the darkened night, dear readers, and research this for yourself. Education such as this needs to be addressed, and quickly dealt with...