Saul Lemereond
He has been publishedin the Sheepshead
Journal of the Arts,
Necrotic Tissue, Down
in the Cellar,
Drabblecast, and
Dunsteef.
Demonic Tome by Thom OlaussonThrough a veil of flesh the insane Undead whispers/ Alastor smile within the heart of men/ Another name is entered into Satan's Demonic Tome/ Within a tomb of darkness the ghost of a killer is imprisoned/ Lilith kisses his long dead lips/ The names of the Beast inked in blood in the Demonic Tome/ A thief nailed to the cross wearing a crown of fire/ Colopatiron turn his key and howl/ The history of the damned written down in the Demonic Tome/ A dead staring eye upon a blackened sky/ Aesma whisper in the ear of mankind/ Another deed entered into the eternal Demonic Tome/ A church of bones are the home of the cursed/ Euronymous feast upon their diseased corpses/ 666 authors write their confessions in the Demonic Tome... (More) |
The Charge by M.R.L A young girl was lain ungarnished across the wide, round oak table, with her extremities spread and pulled tightly by various ropes to prevent any great struggle she might attempt. Her eyes, wild and pleading, were ignored by the small congregation of men and women benched around her. They chattered excitedly as their dining servants filled their cups and cleared their plates and utensils, as this ritual traditionally did not require them. A sharply dressed man entered the room and warmly acknowledged the applauding guests as he made his way to stand at the edge of the table. He smiled and started to mouth a speech in a language that the girl did not understand. She felt sickened every time he laid his dark eyes on her nude outstretched form. The volume of his voice heightened, drawing his speech to a close. The guests applauded again and raised their goblets to a toast. Every one of them then stood and undressed themselves completely. All eyes were on the girl struggling against the restraints that fixed her to the center of that table. Their stares showed a bestiality that caused her to cry out uncontrollably and try to violently wrench herself free. (more) |
The Cuckoo Clock by Jonathan D. Stiffy Catherine came to her boyfriend‟s Victorian home after her last class that autumn afternoon. After two faint knocks at the door, she decided to try the knob. James left the door open when he knew that Catherine would be coming to visit. Clarion, Pennsylvania, was one of those rare towns where more than a few residents wouldn‟t have given a second thought to unlocked doors. With a firm push, the door creaked open and she entered a living room filled with Gilded Age furniture and dust-laden artifacts. As she sat her purse down on a coffee table in the center of the room, the chime of a clock echoed from down the hall. She knew the order of the chimes of the many clocks James had around the house. First, the antique Seth Thomas in the kitchen would chime, then the grandfather clock in the living room, followed by the Kassell pendulum in the hall. Lastly, the irritating call of the cuckoo clock on the southern wall of the living room would chime. James had many clocks, but the cuckoo clock—of anonymous brand—did not fit with the others. (more) |
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