Ophelia

jonolsonauthor:

OPHELIA by the magnificent Magenta Nero

Originally posted on Magenta Nero:

The water takes me,

lapping at my skin with tiny kisses,

gently into the ebb and flow.

I have no ties to this world,

I walked into the water.

My gown clings to me,

drenched and transparent.

Once it concealed me in angelic folds,

binding me to purity,

now it exposes me,

reveals my body ripe for touch,

and drags me down to my end.

My face is serene, full lips softly parted,

a sigh between words, full lips turning blue.

My torment is palpable and tantalising,

you watch, transfixed,

dead or alive or inbetween?

You do not know and you cannot reach for me.

Child whore, pawn, imbecile,

try as you may, I remain undefined.

No king or prince knows my secret.

Adrift in my sweet devastation, no one can retrieve me.

Do not try to fathom my sorrow,

my lament cannot be heard by your mortal ears.

Do not try to grasp my grief,

my…

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Doubt

jonolsonauthor:

DOUBT by Thomas Brown

Originally posted on THOMAS BROWN:

Writing is a strange game. Over the last few months, I have gone weeks without writing anything satisfactory, only to find myself disgorging entire stories in the space of a morning. Months of the year have passed without fiction submissions, followed by days in which two or three stories have been accepted at once. Inconsistency abounds, and yet I don’t think this will ever change. I can’t speak for everyone, of course, but for me I feel there will always be doubt; doubt about myself and my writing. A part of me also thinks this might not be such a bad thing. Doubt is uncomfortable, it can be crippling if not managed, and create anxiety, but I increasingly feel that it is an integral part of the creative process. The day that we stop doubting ourselves – in any aspect of our lives – is the day that we stop questioning ourselves…

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Anti-Wish

jonolsonauthor:

ANTI-WISH by Pen of the Damned’s Tyr Kieran

Originally posted on Pen of the Damned:

The flames swayed in the light breeze of the ceiling fan. Still, they burned strong and bright. To Dustin they were scorching eyes glaring at him straight out of Hell, all ten of them. Beads of red wax rolled down the candles and pooled like blood on the iced surface below.

He wanted nothing more than to forget his birthday altogether.

His family would have obliged him, but not this year. It was an even numbered year—a check year. The celebration was more for them than for him.

Dustin was the youngest of three boys in a family bonded tight to their kin. The problem was Dustin wasn’t kin. He was adopted. Orphaned as an infant, he never knew his parents. Supposedly, they were killed in a botched break in, but the details, as told to Dustin, were always watered down or vague.

The Thompsons, neighbors to his parents…

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Spotlight On Armand Rosamilia #Imaginarium

jonolsonauthor:

A Spotlight On Armand Rosamilia

Originally posted on Armand Rosamilia:

I own a shirt just like the one Armand wears.

SPOTLIGHT ON: Armand Rosamilia

 

How did you get involved in the upcoming Imaginarium convention?

Stephen Zimmer begged me to be there. He sent me fruit baskets and a briefcase filled with cash as well as the promise of pound bags of M&M’s (one plain and one peanut). How could I not go? Poor boy would be crushed.

 

What is your latest release and what genre is it?

Chelsea Avenue from Ragnarok Publications. It is a traditional horror novel with some paranormal elements.

 Chelsea Avenue New

Quick description of it.

“I don’t come across books like Rosamilia’s CHELSEA AVENUE often. Infused with the dreamlike quality of memory, Rosamilia here fulfills the full measure of the promise I first saw in his DYING DAYS series. Beautifully dark, this book held me entranced. I couldn’t get enough!” -Joe McKinney, Bram Stoker Award-winning author of DOG DAYS and PLAGUE OF THE UNDEAD 

Some things…

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Inside

jonolsonauthor:

INSIDE by Pen of the Damned’s Nina D’Arcangela

Originally posted on Pen of the Damned:

Day 1

I can hear them scratching – almost ticking, always clicking, as they move around inside my head. It’s maddening. Their tiny feet always touching, testing, feeling their way about. Each hair-coated limb sliding between the soft tissue and bone – scuttling through the crevasse in between. Feeding off the fluid…growing.

Sometimes, when I’m looking in the mirror, in the worst moments, the moments where I have to hold onto the basin to support myself and can barely catch a full breath, I swear I see a shadow scuttle behind my eye. The quick darting of a grotesque form moving swiftly past before I can focus on it. My own visage in the mirror is a horror in itself; long hair a greasy tangled mess, cheeks sunken and hollow, skin a sickly yellow hue from their rancid poison. Sinking to the floor, scratching at my face to be rid…

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Fishing, Ghoul Style

jonolsonauthor:

FISHING GHOUL STYLE by Pen of the Damned’s Blaze McRob

Originally posted on Pen of the Damned:

“Just one more and I’ll have my limit,” old Herb chuckles.

The large pond sitting in the northwest corner of the cemetery is off-limits for fishing. To everyone except Fred that is. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. The spring-fed pond is there, loaded with tasty Largemouth Bass waiting to jump on the surface plug he works through the shallows. Night: the best time to catch them because they hit with abandon, and no one can see him as well.

“If God didn’t want people catching these tasty critters, why did he have someone stock them here?” Fred muttered. “The dead can’t fish, but I certainly can.”

The Ghoul watches with amusement. To him, this man is playing with his food. A cat and mouse kind of game.

He smiles. ‘I suppose that’s what I do now that I eat the flesh of the living,’ he thinks…

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Meet the Damned: Joseph A. Pinto

jonolsonauthor:

Meet Pen of the Damned’s Joseph Pinto

Originally posted on The Road to Nowhere...:

Next up in the Meet the Damned roll-call is one of our co-founders and The Tale Weaver himself, Joseph A. Pinto. Joe takes to pen and paper the way a fish takes to water. He masterfully crafts intriguing, evocative and wonderfully unique yarns of horror that leave the reader marveling over the inspiration; glancing over their shoulder in desperation; and awed at the precision with which the story is told. Not only does he strut his stuff in our darkest nightmares, but he is also a poet, lyricist, and the author of the beautifully touching contemporary fantasy novella, Dusk and Summer, dedicated to his father. Now, let’s find out what makes this Maestro of the Macabre tick!

Who Dat? It’s The Tale Weaver come to bare his soul!
Joseph A. Pinto

JosephAPinto_HeadShot_LargeI was damned as a kid.

How could I not be? As a six-year-old back in 1976, my…

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