nd thus with the onset of September, Falloween begins, even in the midst of the impending Equinox. The Nativities of The High Priestess of The Church of Satan, and mutually complimentary Gothicon Yvonne DeCarlo, Lily Munster are observed.*
The masks of Satan begin to emerge, peeking 'neath floorboards and beds, from moonlit windows & shadowy closets, attics & basements, skeletal trees lurking, beckoning the darkling to become one in perpetuity. Heralding the path to nightmare fane, the inner darkness revealed to revel, and from bubbling cauldrons, unholy confections tempt with multisensory delights, The Devil's Communion invites.
Satan's brides by hellements unite! Bats and witches fly, demons arise from pentagram gateways, werewolves howl & stalk the land, ghouls and zombies from graveyards lurch, hooded phantoms float with glowing eyes, vampires and wraiths haunt your dreams. The shadows come alive! Though our dark lairs remain eidolic, it feels like Halloween again... ∞
In Nomine Satanas,
Rev. Blackthorne
1 September, LVII A.S.
Noctuary, Draconian Empire
_____________
* Dracommendations: The Munsters series, American Gothic, Satan's Cheerleaders, Cellar Dweller.
Voices echo down the hall & across the wall
In a white haze, everything's a blur, a white fog
And forms encircling 'round
And forms encircling 'round...
The constant tone of flesh and machine
Giving life...taking life
Giving life...taking life
Then comes the cold, flowing in your veins
Beware The Reaper's face
Making you insane...
You better shake off death!
Faceless GHOSTS twisting 'round
Don't follow the blindlight in their eyes
Or you'll be gone... Forever!
Echo of a shadow
By jfarrell
I am just the echo of a shadow;
Out of the night I jump at you,
Translucent, ghostly faces,
The mist caught by the moonlight.
The body that wore this face,
Long dead.
As the breeze moves amongst the leaves,
You hear my cries of joy,
Howls of frustration,
Cries of torment and agony.
The voice that sang my words,
Long silent.
Condemned a witch and sentenced to burn,
Here, where you stand,
I am long turned to dust
Part of the very ground beneath you.
My soul, that burns for revenge,
Still burns.
I am the echo of the shadow;
The shadow that dwells within your soul.
You are here because I call to you,
Blood of my blood, through the ages.
I surrender to you my witchcraft, my magic,
Now, go forth and unleash my vengeance.
Across an empty hall
By jfarrell
My footsteps echo around me,
Ricocheting off the walls
To assault me
Like the voices of the long dead assembled.
The people, memories, who crossed this hall
Long before me;
Leaving fragments of themselves
To dwell here forever.
As the moonlight shafts in through the window,
The dust eddys and grows
To take on the very likenesses
Of those who went before me.
Black and grey shadows beckon and caution me;
I can almost hear them whisper
“This way, come.” “No, that way’s danger.”
Dread hangs in the air, enveloping me.
Startled by a tap-tap-tapping
I see a raven a rap-rap-rapping
In the middle of this empty hall
Dedicated to Lenore.
Sometimes I hear the ghosts of my past
Often they whisper in my ear
Just out of consciousness
Barely audible, but present
Memories of those gone by
Now immortal in my mind
Forever they'll exist in me
Or at least as long as I live
For we are scars on the membrane of time
Carving our existence deep into it's flesh
Dying to gain immortality
Our existence tantamount to the memories of others
Thirty-three years I’ve been here on this hill
Still I’m the age of 18
Il wait at my post for my mates to return
Who get older each time it does seem
You have put on a few pounds
Your hair it’s gone grey, but I remember that look in your eyes
When we loaded our rifles and charged up this hill Explosions lighting up the skies
I wish you could stay longer but I know you must go
But don’t worry I will always be here
To watch over this hill, looking out for the foe
This soldier does have no more fear
Farewell my true comrades, drink and sing songs
In the land of my forefathers over the sea
One or two won’t make it back next time
But they will be sitting on this hill with me
Eventually I know you will all be here, a battalion together Ah Men
Then we will all march at once through the doors of Valhalla
The Gods have work for good soldiers again.
© Tony McNally
Down on forgotten beds
angels in stone
forever watch
those who sleep
in the arms of comfort
of the silent
and the still
of the dreaming worm
The restless dead stir in the night
and creatures of shadow
loom over the cradle of living
souls
standing tall under the moon's melencholy light
Along victorian hallways dark and drear
silent maddness slithering, creeps
saying mind not the creaking
for
there exists no danger here
In a distant void terrified cats weep and wail
and parents struggle for sleep
praying against the unknown
the
chilling the anxiety the wet kiss of hell
Forlorne homes shiver and shake
thier yellow eyes glowing
burning low in the darkness
dancing
in horror for the hosts of innnocence they are here to take
Screetching shutters violently wag to and fro
in hopes of saving the sleeping
to shoo away the sorrow
from the dark ones the dreaming do not know
Against small feet tongues of shadow delightfuly taste
crawling slowly hissing
into the soundless ears of
babes
before the sunrises the dead must make haste
Whispers fade deep into the night
as creatures of the grave
slip from empty cradles of lonliness
once
occupied with love now filled with shrieking fright.
As the moon dies away beginning its long fall
the horrid moaning of terror
shall bellow long into day
and
the living left to wittness the restless shadow's eternal call.
One of the greatest victories in history unravelled before her eyes, more gruesome than she ever imagined.
Flames and blood ignited in her mind as the powerful sight of the ruin forced a vision of the jewel city shattering in her mind.
The vision slowly ebbed away revealing the crumbles and ashes of the same city.
The smallest of her steps created a tornado of cinders around her.
After one step her knees no longer supported her and the ash covered her as completely as a cacoon when she fell.
Pain like the sting of a bee overwhelmed her eyes, blurring her vision. The once clear scene in front of her became a swirl of dark black smoke. Suddenly, a figure walked out into her hazy sight. As far as she could tell, the person was a woman with long silver hair that floated around her head like a halo. Steadily, her blinking cleared away the fog but once her vision was crystal clear again the woman was gone.
An apparition?
A hallucination?
Or just a slight trick of the fog?
Whoever or whatever it was, was gone. Now the bricks of the fallen city lay still, as silent as the darkest midnight. She stood up shaking off the last of the ash and walked into the city. Small buildings surrounded a marketplace, the type of place where a normal family might have walked and played and laughed. Farther down, there was an arena built into the ground. The pit was flooded with rains after being unkempt by the owner. Normal everyday life was taken from this city--and because of what--A pretty girl. Unfair doesn’t even begin to cover the senseless violence that occurred here, in Troy.