Enter. Sit before the Tale Weaver.
Heed: true beauty tis not in the eye of the beholder
but in the minds of the Damned.
Open yourself to us…
A Picture Paints 100 Words, by Dan Dillard
The knob creaked as I gave it a twist. The ancient sound of metal on metal made my ears ache and slithered panic up my spine. Funny it should do that. That anything was able to do that to me in this stage of the game.
It was brilliant that I even found this place, so fitting to my plan. Her body tucked ever so well into the old crematorium. The drugs working their magic until after I lit the burner and the flames licked up, tickling her with devilish hunger. My favorite part was yet to come. The screaming.
Poisonous Hope, by Tyr Kieran
Imprisoned behind an unlocked gate of decorative iron, I watch the world carry on without me. Each day I remain in captivity works on my soul as bacteria would on a slab of uncured beef. The breeze that swirls in and out of my chamber taunts of life’s sensations that could still be mine. Yet, intangible chains bind me to a rotting corpse while the sweet poison of hope corrodes my chance at eternal peace. It’s too tempting to ignore. I cannot rest, cannot let go. So, I wait for receptive prey to venture in and unknowingly forfeit their future.
Sacred Charge, by Nina D’Arcangela
Day after day I have grasped you, clung to your surface, held you as though you were yet a remnant of her. Many the night I sat below you, gazing upward; wishing, hoping, never praying. Have I made you my false idol? Perhaps. But in your solemn stance, you guard over all that was precious to me, how can I blame you? But I do. My mind bleeds for what should have been, for the chance never to have seen you. My tears shed upon your unyielding beauty only add to my remorse for what lies beyond your sacred charge.
Refuge, by Joseph A. Pinto
Refuge; before these iron gates I tremble. Words, long forgotten, muttered upon this unforgiving draft. Weary fingers graze lips; memory languishes. A song cries. Lost, what once remained. Balm to my wounds, these iron gates I clutch. To twist this handle, to enter into that which I have denied myself. A thousand angels mock my arrogance; their light I have shunned. Tell me godless thing, who haunts your starless nights? My thousand lies expired at last; hollow, barren, crumbled within. Shadows beckon; so soon shall I dance. Refuge beyond these iron gates; blackened tomb. Condemned both by heaven and hell.
Vacuum, by Leslie Moon
You ask me to grasp this? Enter something into which I cannot perceive meaning. Is there a way through this dim portal? Will I come to the end and find a vacuous self? Strain into a haze with no return?
Ask me not to open this sepulcher of doubt. Free my way, menial I will welcome. To touch this skeleton of all my fears, a repugnant notion. You bid me- go, no gentle nudge. I am plummeted to the world beyond my fears. Where all I cherish is missing. All I long for is past. All I was is gone.
Sleeping Dogs, by Thomas Brown
Higher and higher the dog-king climbs, advancing up the stairs. Where the brickwork fails, he catches light; small glimmers in the dark. Dawn illuminates the countryside, and at its heart his tower; a Gothic spike, a splinter, driven deep into the hills.
Steps crumble, break beneath paw-hands, and then he is outside. The rooftop glitters, wet with slime and sunlight on old stone. He crawls to where the guttering clings tightly to the slate, and where the new dawn sees his flesh, his broken face, his lolling tongue, it hears him laugh, breathe rancid breath, then turns him into stone.
Inner Sanctum, by Blaze McRob
From down the hall, the words do come, and with them now, a screeching hum. As door does open, telling all, that deep fears wait at beck and call. But now must I with no noise crawl, or parents both will make me call, out in the night as they will beat, the stuffing out from my small feat. For in my bed I am to be, and not in hall the place for me. As radio for this great show, within my soul is not to grow. But Inner Sanctum does arrive, and three year ears in story dive.
Welcome Home, Baby! by Hunter Shea
Shirley, I’m coming!
The words came out as, “Sssrlleee, mmmm cnnngggg!”
One foot stepped on the other and my forehead slammed into the grated door. It should have hurt, but then again, all the should haves were dead and gone.
Unlike the other shambling wrecks in the cemetery.
Do I look that bad?
I twisted the iron knob. I’d been able to breathe last time I’d been here. I came to bring flowers, talk to the air.
The door opened with a steady creek.
Her skin slid off her face. So what? We had each other again.
Veneration, by Daemonwulf
The shrieks of the ageless faithful defile him, seeking restitution from an eternally deafened heart. Their history of torment, revealed in screaming admonition, scrapes the frozen memories and claws at cold, darkened walls, struggling for a chance to be heard.
Theirs is a multitude of ignored voices; immeasurable lives ending as grist to be chewed by holy teeth.
He slams the door as the suffering faithful yearn for salvation, choosing instead the false prophecies he utters in glorious silence.
Crying out for redemption, they clamor for their promised reward, only to find sanctuary within the warming shit of their God.
Each piece of fiction is the copyright of its respective author
and may not be reproduced without prior consent.
Image © Copyright Dark Angel Photography. All Rights Reserved.
Nails grate across stone; she comes for me. Hellish echoes impaling the frailty of my senses through the back of my skull. Scratch, ssssscratch. Blistering pants herald her arrival from somewhere deep within my institution of darkness. Blistering, born sodden with covet, sin. I am unsure to whom those breaths belong.
She comes for me. My sex-starved thing.
Limbs twist; these cords bite into wrists, offering little freedom, holding fast my famished body to this chilled limestone. So chilled. I strain to see her; this dark surrenders nothing. I shudder with the callousness of a desperate want. So desperate. Nails grate across stone; ever closer she slinks.
“Choke me,” into obscurity, I gasp.
Nether’s inviting ledge…always upon which I teeter. A void exists below, an oblivion so familiar; I will be lost should I fall. Much the same as this thing…this thing the light of sun has never licked. “Choke me,” mouth too careless, eager. My dick throbs, pulsing with a life I wish I myself had known.
I will taste you first
Toes curl; shadows shift so subtly beyond blind eyes. Fingers clench; shadows shift so subtly beyond screaming senses. She is all around me, shifting so subtly beyond wildest imagination.
My sex-starved thing I never disobey. Mouth parts; beads of moisture tease my lips. I arch against my bed of gypsum, slam inhibitions atop stone, aching for her to break me. Delirious, this wait. I swallow dank air, the fester of her home; finally, her tongue fills my mouth with the sweetest taste I could ever despise. Swirling, swirling over teeth, probing, probing deep into ragged throat.
Fire, raging through my head. I gag; her tongue clogs my passage. I desire more. Always more. “Choke…me…” I bite down upon pulsing meat in my mouth. Chew upon festering wretchedness. Deeper her tongue thrusts, sealing pharynx, sealing remains of wasted breath within my gut. Endearing, her plague, burying my last wail deep into chest…snuffing life as I asked…interring me with the usual disclosure: she will never belong to me.
I have found the perfect end. She was born to make me hurt.
Nether’s inviting edge beckons; body numbs, stars bursting behind my lids the only light mine. From the cusp of unconsciousness, she gently rouses me. I cannot see. I am blind. Her leer fondles; the skin crackles over her jaws. Somewhere from deep within, the dissonant scuttling of things bloated with far worse than abandon. She nuzzles my cheek; her tender, moist lips nuzzle my own, grazing so softly the diseased affection left unspoken. With razor teeth, my sex-starved thing rends flesh from my face.
Sweet agony. Howling…so desperate for her tease. Fingers rake my heaving chest—Heaven. Hades burns beneath her nails. Squirm squirm squirm I do—her little slug. These cords do not yield; in turn, she yields no hope. Into my abdomen, sink her nails. I spit the contagion of my devotion from reverent mouth, screaming for more.
Within the deadened, inky blanket of her lair, the fervor of her gaze singes my engorged organ.
“Consume me,” I offer.
My sex-starved thing snorts cruelly over my body; the chill she illicits delicious. Breath swirls across pelvis.
Those bloated things, they scurry away. Reverberating between the stalagmites, feelers seeking some other form of rot. Done with me before even they start. My beautiful destroyer, she has only begun. “Consume me!” A challenge from bloody lips.
“Please…” Terribly deft fingers wedge a spreader bar between my legs. “Consume…” Cuffs snap, bite into ankle, nearly to bone. “Me!”
I am numb to her affliction.
A chortle, repulsive beyond limits of known sanity. Brutal, pitiless—a stony palm seizes my shaft, squeezing as her sadist mouth engulfs, razor blade tongue sucking, lapping. Shredding skin from my dick, shredding as she bobs. Coarse hair pricking my stomach, shredding shredding until I erupt; an orgasm of blood. My essence, it escapes in rhythmic pulses, filling her mouth—the seed of all my sin. Slowly I bleed out, for me, for her. Body stiffening; this sensation of depletion exquisite, my only regret that no longer do I die virgin deaths for my sex-starved thing. She has murdered me more times than I can count.
“Now steal me…” Mouth betraying me always.
My sex-starved thing lies atop me, my death rattle commencing beneath her jaded eyes. She laughs, the sweet music of all gone wrong. Lowers her head. Tears my throat apart. She eats, she snickers; spits blood, semen back into the wheezing hole in my neck. Taunts some more. The joke is always on me; I love my sex-starved thing.
She slides along my body. Nipples graze skin. The stone, it chews spine. I remain mutilated beneath her—an emasculated piece of nothing, a chunk of meat detained by her lure. Broken, so willing for her promise. Ruined, left yearning for more.
Blistering, the tortured pants between us. Still unsure to whom those breaths belong.
“Steal me,” pleading to the worst of all I am.
She obliges; it is what she does. My curse the blessing she delivers. Fist deep she plunges into my chest, twisting, tearing at my very corruption. Her brutality unmatched, rending my heart free of its cage. The lump of flesh now my dick twitches.
It belongs to me
She devours my heart.
The gagging nearly immediate.
The gurgling incessant from her mouth.
Somewhere in the dark, she collapses.
“Never,” voice oily in her lair. I wait until silence clots my ears, shred wrists free of her knots. For all the Devil in me, I love my sex-starved thing. I could never tell her of the poison within my heart.
~ Joseph A. Pinto
© Copyright 2013 Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.
I came so innocent as a child
such wild and fanciful play
I would often tiptoe in the night
staying long into the day
Fortresses queen I’d be
sea castles in my mind
and as I older grew
I toyed in the sublime
chance encounter that I had
mad he flapped and cawed
black cloaked raven-man
a twisted face, how odd
things were altered now it seemed
my dreams began to thin
darkness seeped in and through
imagination’s walls begun to spin
Bloodless echoes haunted me
“please” I’d close my ears
steel-like, frozen where I stood
terrorized by my fears
Malevolence stalked through the mist
abyss like were his eyes
vile dropped from his lips
his cloak rendered no disguise
“I take you as my victim
pinned – a voodoo curse
you cannot from it run
I promise it’s the worst”
No light lit his face
trace, there was no sorrow
a hideous malignant sneer
little time left to borrow
There is no place that I know
to go or leave this thing
bound in a timeless shell
to none hope can I bring
For you, life-taker grows this hate
rape you may my world
but watch this as life’s child
her vengeance is unfurled
try with all my will to shake
awake I’d purge the dream
blood through fingers oozed
coagulated as I’d scream
my hands they hold a sanguinous flood
loves I cannot save
none could stem abhorrent tide
In their blood I am depraved
alert my plans, they have wrought
thoughts to kill my foe
the curse must be undone
for the sake of all I know
The maniac’s thirsty schemes
dreams that I now dread
dealt a hand I cannot play
his crimes are mine instead
rivulets of a cursed flow
grow as I hold them tight
I stand so pale and aghast
her stream gushes in the night
this dreaded, foretold dream alas
last of those I knew
puddles form in ebbing streams
I can only mouth,” Adieu”
“Ha” he gasped “Gagnez – you win”
A pin thrust in my side
too late was lost his final breath
” no victory all have died!”
keeper of nightmarish pool
fool I knew too late
this ghoulish fiend held a key
would have opened freedom’s gate
you, dream-waker come this way
as the noir play unfolds
ghastly gore spread neath your feet
“what evil is untold?”
Endless blood pools there it lay
off-stage a cloak is draped
one lifeless human voodoo doll
nightmares he must shake
From the doll a pin he gently pulls
full of shape and life is she
cruelly manacled to a frozen wall
his aim to set her free
“there must a way to make this cease”
“release me not,” I scream
I now am specter of both worlds
leave me shackled to this dream”
~ Leslie Moon
© Copyright 2013 Leslie Moon. All Rights Reserved.