Finally pursuing my dreams and getting my stories out to the world.
When you enter the church, everyone is already seated. You pause to steady yourself, checking to make sure your suit fits fine. You don’t want to look rushed and disheveled as you make your grand entrance. They will all see you coming in late, so you have to look your best. You adjust your tie, roll your shoulders, stretch your neck, and straighten your back. Confident, you make your way down the center aisle, walking between the pews.
The Feast of Glutt
He lounges on an old warped stone bench in a temple littered with bone, peels, discarded wrappers, and other detritus from the many glorious meals he has devoured here over the last eternity. Grease, sauce, and other liquids dribble down his chin and run in lines along his swollen belly. Fat, greedy fingers reach down to the food piled before him, and he tears off the wing of a wild bird, stuffing his face with it. His teeth rip through the flesh and dig into the meat, consuming it with rips and tears that echo through the chamber.
Welcome. Won’t you join me? Please, have a seat. Sure, the one by the fire is fine. Warm your bones, my dearest. For, as you can see, the weather is frightful tonight. The chilling wind whips the trees, their branches lashing at the darkness. Snow falls like the ashes of so many hopes and dreams, scorched to oblivion by the heat of summer, now passed.
Sick Tales of Human Cruelty
Down the rabbit hole over on Amazon, I stumbled upon the subgenre Extreme Horror, which is similar to Splatter or Splatterpunk. At first, I thought they were one and the same, but as I explored, I realized they weren't. Splatterpunk, traditionally, is seen as a very visceral reaction to traditional horror, which tends to be executed with what its purveyors would probably call finesse or tact. Subtlety. Much of traditional horror occurs in the imagination of the audience.
The window of the antique shop held a collection of old dolls. These weren’t the pristine collectibles that folks sold for ridiculous amounts of money because they were in mint condition. No, these dolls stared through the dusty glass with eyes that had seen a lot. They wore dresses caked in dirt and soot. Some of their faces were stained nicotine-yellow. Many had matted or ratty hair; some had no hair at all, their bald doll heads staring with wild and deranged expressions.
He pulled his coat close and raised the collar as the crisp autumn air grew colder, whipping around him and threatening to carry him away like the leaves barely hanging on to the limbs overhead. The beautiful fiery oranges, reds, and yellows waved in the growing wind, fanning like flames. The warm amber light of the setting sun, instead of igniting the brilliant foliage in an array of blazing tones, turned dull and gray.
The Sound Above
Morning came, and his questions yielded no satisfying answers. “This building’s over a hundred years old. You’re bound to hear noises.”
The Sound Above
The sound woke him again. It was the sound of something dragging across the floor above him. It conjured the image of a large stone slab scraping across the floor, but that couldn’t have been right. He told himself that couldn’t be it. Something like that would have destroyed the building’s beautiful hardwood floors. It had to be some heavy piece of furniture.