beyond the pale,
mysteries of the night and the mind,
slipping between the spaces.
Here for the Reading, 20 17:
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He was singing another song to the rusted chain dangling from the ceiling when a black hole opened in his chest. It sucked his heart out from behind his ribcage and he knew with a ghost’s certainty, with the instinctual sympathy between the dead and those close to death, that his brother was dying. He had not seen Michael, hadn’t been able to see another human being, since the day he died bloody in the street, listening to the screeching of wheels on concrete.
Gene concerned me. He never spoke, didn’t seem to breathe, never took off his head.
Happy New Year Everyone. We hope 2017 will be a good year for us all.
Here for the Reading, 2016
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The bus wheezes to a stop, the door squeaks open, and Mr. Pony trots on.
This time, the bus isn’t empty.
All the way in back, a skull mask peeks out of the last seat.
He’s always there, you just can’t always see him.
My heart is a prayer. My heart is a temple, is a church to an absent god. Is an egg for all the misery of the universe…
Repairing the World, one page at a time…
And here is the story in the original Russian version:
Oh, what the moon can do to you…
“She, Eidolon”, ©Jennifer Rhoades Photograph of Moon © Wyldraven
Why don’t you forsake me, oh my darling?
photos of women © Peter Allert photo of stairway © stengchen photo of candle © Jeet Sen
January 4, 2016: Eldritch: “The Wendigo”, by Algernon Blackwood, illustrated by Cathal Hanlon and Alexandre Mahboubi. The classic, chilling tale.