Crawling In, Crawling Out
When she charmed worms out of the ground, she did so alone, with her wood rattler: a long stick carved with teeth, jammed deep into the earth, scraped so it sang like skeletons clattering.
I might be a dungeon
Peering inside, I saw what might have been gray cobblestones, rough-hewn stairs, old pitch torches
A Letter from Your Love Interest (who is not an Embalmer)
When you leave I’ll preserve you (your memory, I mean). I’ll tuck my dreams of you away in a bed of Egyptian sand for centuries and centuries, until the treasure of your face is uncovered a rich and ancient icon, ossified, priceless. or I’ll dip you in brine (my feelings for you, that is) a…
This Town has too Many Dark Festivals
The rites have been described as highly uncomfortable.
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.
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.
“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.
That Fish is Going to Eat You
What can you do but scramble for shore?