Slick Black Cat

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Slick, smooth and sleek

making your moves on the weak

sauntering in like Don Juan with a slick and slithering tongue

Black cat in a tuxedo

verbally whining and dining the ladies

tucking each one in a pocket for future use

each one serving a purpose

pitting one against the other

for your entertainment erection 

STOP!

oh wait, my mistake,

impotence of a physical nature

Let’s read to them with slick lips

maybe they’ll get close to the screen

as they touch themselves and strip

making all your crimson honey drip

black cat slips in once more

touching her down to her core

making her beg him for more

but it’s time that she settle the score

Fooled by this one no more

kicks her heels up and walks out the door

black cat lying dead on the floor

she’s not his victim, not any more

Made him hurt right down to his own core

Playing poor me for the attention of more

Shhhh!

Stop talking

I’m bored.

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Blood

blood_on_cloak_by_mohzart

The Blood is spilt
The soul will heal
The pain is felt by all who feel.

The will is strong and has no end
There’s nothing left here to defend.

Let fury go it’s been released
And shared with all who want to feast.

The time is now
The will is strong
This soul right here
is where you are strong.

Let it go and keep moving forward
Life are fulfilling and moving onward

The soul it grows and strengthens within
Remember that and you already win.

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Velvet Tongue

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She circles around him

breathing in his scent

he is aware but all his defenses are spent

Perilous thirst,

she can hear the blood flowing through his veins

how she wants to take his pulse with her teeth

she needs that life-force to kill her every pain

her soul’s journey painted long ago 

a thousand years for a troubled soul.

He’s got no idea what awaits him 

how it’s about to unfold

she dances so well, never getting to close as she baits him

the silkiness of her hair brushes against his cheek

her fragrance, his favorite, making him weak

silent whispers deep in the night

dance through the mind with such delight

a fairytale dream, a velvet tongue

where his life ends, hers has only just begun.

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Free Again by Quintessence

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 Dust

Dust off the negativity

Dust off the pain

Dust off the ugliness others left on you with the rain.

Distance

Distance yourself from the binding chains keeping you silent

Distance yourself from the control that fell upon you from verbal violence.

Shake

Shake out through your fingertips the restraint of your words

Shake out inner energy that couldn’t burst through that old prisoned world.

You Are Free

You’re free now, to dance

You’re free now to take that scribing chance.

Free

Let your words flow

Let the pain go

Let the light in

Time to be Free Again.

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Of The Void by Crimson Quintessence

the-void-600

You thought you got away with murder

just wait until they all catch their breath

Killing things with love under a painted veil

killing things with kindness from such sickly lips

they’ve met up with a lyrical acrobat devil type

who spun tricks for kicks, such evil with all its hype

Kill the messengers, I think not, living untamed not vile

hidden amongst the trees of the wild

Right here, see the changes that they’ve made

They survived you, they may have imperfections but you won’t be collecting them

Look at your own waste you left in your poor slick taste

they won’t worry tonight, they took flight away from that prison and poisonous place

They’ve painted every fence they know

it’s kind of pleasing

knowing there’s nothing where you’re going

they feel way to good to leave this all to luck, your veil lifted now , nowhere to hide

the cranium trade was a huge facade

a show put on for the devil’s benefit

Beneath your feet lies a darken black hell-pit

waiting for your final breath to be taken

the jaws of hell will swallow you whole

It’s difficult for you to swallow, every pill of truth

you are always looking  for a fix

you were never meant to last

your next fix could be your very last.

Move right in to your own velvet underground

where nothing exists and there’s no sound

It’s a dry country, in there, where you hang your guilt and put on your cloak of fantasy

Your personalities are the lost eight

laying in wait for the next one

They’ll scrape your remains off their boots

and find their way home to a new Atlantis

free of your chinese whispers in the dark

lies, all served up from your skillet of inequity

You were born of your own deceiving lyrical womb of fantasy 

now, you are of the void

The void you left with your ascension of self fame created by forgery, distortion, deception and deceit

The lips of truth shall forever and always be 

but the lying tongue floats for a mere moment and is gone

back to being one of the void it created

 THE VOID, the splattery new horror flick from directors Steven Kostanski and Jeremy Gillespie

                            THE VOID, the splattery new horror flick from directors Steven Kostanski and Jeremy Gillespie

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The Lure by Crimson Quintessence

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Cast the line

with baited hook

a glancing eye

a fatal look.

The hunter swift

circles its prey

devour another

day after day.

Cunning and slick

but the prey gets wise

slips from the trap

uncovering the hunter’s blind of disguise.

Freedom at last

blindfold removed and nothing obscure

eyes open wide fashioning new haute couture

ready for a long winter’s nap

far away from the lure.

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The Pleasure of Pain by Brandon Ryals

Intenebris x Stanislav Krawczyk "PAIN" Ring on model Linnea Thomasia

Intenebris x Stanislav Krawczyk “PAIN” Ring on model Linnea Thomasia

So subtle, the touch upon my hand

A secretive glance beckons me to follow

Watching in silent contemplation as she disappears swallowed by the darkness

Looking around the darkness seems alive shadows move closer ever-expanding

Reaching for me fighting to take hold

They move around me a stygian sea full of mysteries overflowing with wonders

It is then I feel her touch upon my cheek

So soft so gentle is her caress

The beating of my heart is all I hear until she speaks

Warm is her breath upon the back of my neck

She speaks of love and forbidden passion

Visions of carnal desire fill my mind as her hands wander across my chest

Close your eyes my love place your trust in me she says as her lips brush my throat

A sigh escapes from me as I give in to her seductions

So cold the blade that slides into my flesh

Never has the sensation of pain been this exquisite this intoxicating

I cannot help but smile as her tongue runs the length of the wound

A gasp as she partakes of my flesh takes my sacrament

Gently she lays the blade upon my chest open your eyes see me for who

I truly am

It is then that she reveals her true nature, that the demon is freed upon this world

Her eyes burn in the darkness smouldering with forbidden passions

Hair falls around her face a waterfall of living darkness

so beautiful the fallen one so deliciously wicked

Taking her hand I pull her close softly my lips brush hers

The metallic taste of my flesh still lingers

Intoxicated by this creature before me that gives herself to me

surrendering to my darkest desires.

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Original written work of Brandon Ryals

VISIT AUTHOR BRANDON RYALS ON FACEBOOK CLICK HERE

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Into The Storm by Brandon Ryals

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Walking alone through the shadows
I listen for the coming of the storm
Thunder rolls over the mountains
As lightning strikes in the distance

Lights ahead mark the pathway
So close now to the safety of home
Rain falls with a devils tenacity
As I reach the shelter of my keep

Fresh wood brings the fire to life
Throwing shadows on the walls
Yet the cold of the rain still grips my heart
As my gaze falls on the ancient tome

The power ancient and arcane within
words of salvation found on these pages
The workings of the dark gods reside here
Do I dare knowing the price to be paid

Unknown to me the demon watches
She waits patiently in the shadows
Her eyes burning with a primeval desire
As she watches with curiosity

Longing to be made flesh again
She cries out in frustration and rage
Her voice goes unheard in shadows
As tears of sorrow fall into nothingness

Sitting alone I stare into the flames
Unable to shake this sensation
I could almost swear I heard crying
Looking down I give in to temptation

Sitting before the fire I begin to read
Unseen the demon takes her place
Sitting before me within the fire
She guides my hand to the spells

It takes all her strength to guide my hands
The will to be made flesh is strong
silent desperation fills her eyes
As my eyes fall upon the proper spells

I close my eyes in contemplation
the ceremony simple but for one thing
It’s a small matter almost insignificant
A tribute payed in blood a gift of flesh

Hope fills her heart as she watches me
Her hands guide mine in the preparation
Each symbol meticulously drawn
Every item in its proper place

Sitting inside the circle I close my eyes
My heartbeats slow as does my breathing
Words of love whispered go unheard
As the verses fall from my lips

The room around me disappearing
My world falls into smoke and fire
As a figure appears in the distance
The demon approaches through the flames

My heart stops as she reaches the edge
The final barrier at the threshold
So beautiful cloaked in smoke and fire
Her eyes implore me to finish the rite

So close to the freedom she desires
Silently she begs him to finish
Tears fall from.her eyes as she reaches
Crying out in anguish for his love

The final words fall from my lips
The world around me exploding
Blinded by smoke and flame
I fall into darkness what have I done

For a mere moment hell follows
As she falls through the doorway
Crying out in triumph she is free
As the smoke fades she sees her saviour

Lying broken at her feet all but dead
Gently she lifts him into her arms
Moving into the night she lays him down
The rain washing away the stain of the pit

Gently she holds her love in her arms
Praying to the gods of old to spare him
His body lies broken and.bloody
Tears of sorrow fall from her eyes

Lightning crashes all around her
As an ancient prayer fills the night air
The night comes alive with spirits
As powers ancient and arcane fill the air

I awaken into a world of pain
Broken and bloody I open my eyes
I feel rain upon my brow so cold
I see through the haze my demon

She is so beautiful this child of perdition
Her embrace so gentle laying in her arms
Her voice a whisper in.my ears
As I succumb to the pain falling again

Staring down she smiles knowingly
The answer comes to her from above
Whispered on the darkness around her
She is granted the gift of resurrection

Smiling she lays him gently on the ground
Touching his face softly as the storm rages
A small bite on her lip and the blood flows
Her lips brush his as the gift is passed on

I open my eyes to her smiling face
Reaching for her I feel a change
Pain leaves my body in waves
Replaced by an unknown strength

Together we stand lost in our love
Finally I see her in all her glory
Before me so dark and enticing
This ravishing creature

Her eyes so dark and full of mystery
I stand awe of this goddess before me
As she falls into my embrace
Her head resting on my shoulder

With new-found strength I lift her
Together we move into the manse
Sheltered from the storm
Beginning our journey together in eternity.

Mad Max:Fury Road.

Mad Max:Fury Road.

Original written work of Brandon Ryals

VISIT AUTHOR BRANDON RYALS ON FACEBOOK CLICK HERE

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Horror Parade by Richard Bell

Artist Unknown

Artist Unknown

Gathering crowds
in orange and black
Clutching their lanterns
Devilish handsome
Autumnal red smear, a carpet
for nightmares
Staring like Myers
Smiling like Manson

Through Hammer film mist swirls
The fearful tunes crawl
Off key descending
Suspense is mind-bending
The dark veil is ripped
By the flagship of floats
Silver screen monsters and
Scream queens for hosts

Sugar skull zombies girls
Chainsaw freak roaring boys
Pumpkin spiced everything
This is my anti Spring
Next through the pea soup fog
Space monster scares
From beyond furthest reaches
of deep dark despair

The crowds in their costumes
Of every dark character
The ring of the theatre screams
Rise from the horror fiends
Ticker tape bloody shreds
Demonic rain
Sky scraping towers
Are piles of the slain

Another ship sails through
The silent hill mist
Beasts that are giant-sized
Infested child, exorcised
Son of the devil and vampiric hordes
An ape and a monster fish
Mars and Earth wars

The horror parade with its floats of pure terror
Creations from minds that push past boundaries
Decades of madness and mayhem and blood
Saluting a genre of freak show born reverie

Slashers and stalkers
Lithe spider walkers
Transforming melting skin
Out of a dark place grin
Zombie walk shuffle
Demons with sparks
Bullets of silver
Stakes through the heart
Ghost face unhinged bored teens
Hockey mask brutes
Nightmares with finger knives
Killer tree roots
Spirits from videos
Dark viral feed
Ouija board deadly games
Mirrors and bees
Lunatic shrinks
Journeys to hell
Bloodbaths and torture
Deep woods dark spells
Cannibal families
Virulent strains
Spirit filled homes
Life and death games
Effigies hung from trees
Soulless cloned pods
Changelings and strange things
and made in a lab
Gore hounds and ghost heads
Madmen in mazes
Tricks for the popcorn treats
Convention crazies

Sail through the ages of our love affair
With horror,
the genre,
the thrill of the scare.

Parade

Parade

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Whoretopsy by Richard Bell

Warning: A bloody tale of horror for the weekend

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Lascivious urges and the lure of the downstairs pulse. There are places in this city of grey granite and half-light that will paint you neon red for a night and your filthy soul for a lifetime.
In those pockets of sin, the depths that you can plumb reach into to the basest desires of man and mangle the entrails decency into a splattered pulp.
Any perversion or twist of the psyche can be satisfied.
Anything for the right price, of course!
Behind the deadbolt doors are shells of humanity. These wretched souls are kept in service until desiccated, used up and milked dry of desire and will.
But death is not a release for them. It is a gasp before an encore.
When they die a whole new clientele appear from under the rocks and stones and out of their tailor-made trousers. They love the cold dead flesh, the unresponsive and totally servile.
They are the necrophiles.
Behind these red-painted doors are sights that were reserved for the grave robbers of the nineteenth century. The livid, humming bags of gut shredding stench. Animal mask wearing men in leather aprons drag the ‘all used up’ into these grotesque rooms and lay them out on a plastic mattress.
The room is chilled and they’ve had their hides filled with formaldehyde by Pete Mortem, the prep guy.
Pete runs the ‘Pine box office’ web channel or The Charnel Channel and supplements this with his sideline, the night safaris. He puts the customers into a van and drives them out to the slums. There the bored and wealthy can bag an orphan, get a Selfie and cut their own trophy.
Just another night in the grey granite city with the onion ghouls and bored, rich deviants.
But the blackest revulsion, reserved for the elite, underneath the obscene zoetrope, felt the ripples in their strands of the web. The curious can never peek through the windows of their country club of obscenities.
That’s where taboo ends and hell becomes access all areas.
But hell is a curious beast. It wants to see the aspiring monsters to grace it’s holding pens.
So hell released a siren with a ‘Y’ incision. It gave Pete Mortem the most putrid, stinking, rancid psychotic she-devil straight from the demonic slab.
This creature was a razor fighting, poison tongued, hard-drinking, hell raising demoness in life. She lived for every excess and screwed like she was riding a derby winner. By the time they found her in the motel room, rolled up in the sheets and jammed under the bed, she was a stinking purple swollen mess. But the star she carved on her chest with a blood curse, ensured her place to the left of the black goat.
When the leather aprons brought her in for the judge to violate, they never imagined what bone chilling terror would be unleashed once he sunk his teeth into the star.
Her black shining eyes glowing red inside, opened up to meet his gaze and, as he opened his mouth to scream, she sucked his tongue into her mouth. With molten bruises dancing across her jaw and cheeks, she sunk her razor teeth into his tongue and chewed slowly, drinking the blood and agonised convulsions. As she swallowed the shredded mess, he vomited into her mouth and filled her stomach with hot puke. It began to leak out of her incision and stab wounds. She threw him off her and onto the floor. Pete Mortem sat in his chair and cheered as the punters logged on in their tens then hundreds to see a rotten corpse snuff a rich bastard and defile him.
She sat up and belched out puke and stinking air. Her bloody star smoking with the fire beneath her purple skin. Reaching down, she slid her black fingertips inside her and pulled out a long, slim razor. That’s when she smiled a cold grizzly bear sneer with a panther’s snarl dragging her brow to push her black eyes back into the green depths of her skull.
The judge crawled back towards the bolted door, spattered with black blood and flesh pieces from previous shows and clambered up the frame. His bleary view through searing pain could make out a hate filled figure writhing towards him unfolding a glinting blade.
He tried to speak, to plead his case but the jury was out and the executioner called.
When the first slice came, it took both his eyes, folding them inwards and releasing reddy black goo spilling down his cheeks. The second took his nose and lips and the third cut a deep leer from his jugular to his jaw. The blood spurted out all over her, releasing plumes of black smoke and an even viler stench. The room began to frost at the corners then travel in snake-like splinters up to the table. The ear-splitting holler that followed saw the room crack in two and the table sink then fall into a cavernous abyss.
As the frost broke the door apart, she tossed the judge’s body into the darkness, scooping his entrails and slashed apart genitals to follow his wretched carcass to hell.
The leather aprons charged at her with machetes drawn, screeching from beneath their masks. But she was as swift as a hunting hawk and slid between them, slicing their hamstrings and Achilles’ tendons. They fell to the floor hollering, slipping about in thick blood as she wound around them slicing and slashing, black eyes wide and sharp toothed grin wider. Crawling about on their twitching bodies, she licked their flowing blood like a cat lapping up its milk. When they stopped moving, she dug the razor deep into their necks and sawed away, growling in rasps until both heads were off. Taking both their machetes she furiously chopped them into small chunks, stuffing the heads between the cheeks of their arses. As she strode towards the control room and Pete Mortem, she chew through the fingers of the leather apron fiends, spitting their rings onto the concrete floor.
Pete had seen events unfold on his monitors and barricaded the door with tables and chairs.
Whack! Hack! Smash! Splinter!
Two machetes working in tandem broke apart the door and, just like Jack Torrance, her hideous bloody grinning head leered at the terrified Pete.
Her eyes darkened to pitch holes as she licked the blades of the machetes slicing her green black vesicle ridden tongue. Then she spewed thick blood and stinking vomit. It ran down her chin and blistered the door, chairs and tables stacked against it. They smouldered and cracked then hissed like cockroaches before melting into thick lumps.
The lights popped and the door swung open. Pete looked at his screens and yelped in horror. A myriad of horrific images featuring all forms of diseased depravity flashed and melted from one to another as terrible scherzo music and screaming blasted his ears.
He backed away from them convulsing and covering his eyes only to stop still against the cold blades of two greasy machetes.
As Pete swallowed hard, one of the blades sliced through his Adam’s apple and he gaped like a landed fish. The second blade clipped the top of his skull off and fell onto the keyboard on the desk.
As his eyes rolled up into his head, the machete in his throat sliced down through his chest, slicing open his stomach spilling its contents onto the power points in the floor and emerging from his scrotum. Pete fell into two pieces in front of the demoness and she grasped his topless head, staring into his blinking eyes.
Slowly the flames behind the black holes shone through and Pete’s severed head screamed in terror without making a sound.
Her evil smile that never broke soaked in the horrors on the screens before they succumbed to the thick frost that followed her from the slab.
Silence moved from white noise to sibilance then the sound of two machetes being dragged behind wet footsteps echoed round the building. It lasted for thirty-eight paces until the deafening bellow sounded again then the whole building slowly slid into the abyss until it was a wasteland covered in black frost.
Somewhere close by a woman lay face down clutching two machetes.

krov-na-ruke_1920x12001

Original fiction by Richard Bell

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