The rites have been described as highly uncomfortable.
Author: Lorna Dickson Keach
This Old Hellhouse
Maalphegor came with it’s own door-to-door salesmen; at the beginning, they looked a little like Bela Lugosi clones, but as the years wore on, the shadows in the salesmen’s faces deepened, a bit like Pazuzu from the Exorcist; then increasingly they began to look like Slender Men once Ralph and Edna’s children came of age.
My Kid and I Made this List for Reasons I Can’t Remember (but We Must Have Been Hungry).
Whole planet of spaghetti with spaghetti people with everything on it spaghetti. City of mustard with little hotdog people chasing cookies on legs. Hamburger with pigeons on…… Read more “My Kid and I Made this List for Reasons I Can’t Remember (but We Must Have Been Hungry).”
A Note on Cosmic Horror
Rather than xenophobia, I think, good cosmic horror and weird fiction practice something closer to exophobia–this fear of things outside human perception or outside what it means to be intrinsically people.
Nothing Fun will Happen this Halloween
no goblins will glare out of dark cellar shadows because/
we all know, for quite certain, that monsters aren’t real.
You Have Been Visited by the Weasel of Sorrows
I will return: Monday, Tuesday, Friday. Blank checkboxes sit beside each day’s name.
That Thing Standing Behind You
There’s so little to eat, the icebox is empty
Is it too much to ask to dine with a friend?
The Snuggly Dead
Arturo’s body was never found, and that was all well and good because after getting chased around by that chainsaw-wielding maniac, he could have really used a break.
There’s a Big Demon Alligator Sitting on the Lawn
And the neighbors glared at you, of course, because they think it’s your fault.
Skulls, Skulls, Skulls!
She wandered for what seemed like forever, picking through the racks of skull skulptures and skull wine holders, skull key chains, skull mandolins, skull chaise lounges, skull guillotines, skull pendulums, skull jack-in-the-boxes.
“Great, but Too Many Floating Eyeballs”
Our room was bitter cold and no manner of warmth from the fireplace could chase away the chill, so snuggling deep into the pillows on the antique canopy bed was just the ticket. The moaning from the hallways really helped my husband get to sleep in the absence of his white noise generator.
Dinner in the Hands of an Angry God
Mom lifted her arms and all the cutlery leapt from the drawers. A few stray forks impaled the zucchini she’d been slicing before the ruckus began.
