So, this is my first entry. I'll write more after I finished reviewing edits for my upcoming book which is published by http://www.mysticmoonpress.com .
The Death - Birth Ritual
If you want to stay young and pretty forever and are willing to pay the price you can do just that using the “the death-birth ritual.” The only problem is you will have to die first.
If you want more about me you can find it on:
Here's a group to talk about (and write stories about) that particular blend of science-fiction and horror that Lovecraft charted out and other writers have refined ever since.
This sort of thing usually gets filed under horror alone, but I'd argue there's a strong dose of science-fiction going on in here, and definitely a presentiment of the nuclear age. If the heart of science-fiction is that 'sense of wonder', cosmic horror shows what happens when what you find is something you really wish you hadn't.
At his personal quarters he sought relaxation among the project’s latest technical evaluations. This sheaf of neutered virgin white documents, firm and reassuring as an ax handle in his grasp, expertly belied the true reality of the past week’s events. Nowhere in its sterile language was any hint of a billion dollars in unforeseen expense, nor a whisper of the pending class action lawsuit from the displaced natives and their slick east coast civil liberties lawyer.
The Magmatic Fear
The only thing on his mind as he finished the final equipment check was a hot meal and a Marlborough 100. Then he heard a lilting oath on the wind followed by a short burst of laughter and his dreams evaporated. Sure enough, there was his boss Freddy Davis charging up the hill inside a greyish cloud of dust; the wind strove desperately to unseat the tan cowboy hat from his head and reveal the pasty bald scalp beneath, but nothing could overcome the force of his hand on the brim.
Aislinn awoke with a start, the many-voiced whisperings and haunting music of her dreams fading away into the morning’s gray reality. She sat up from her leafy bed of soft ferns with some alarm, for she knew that she had stayed out too late. The dawn had come, and she would be missed. Passing unsteady fingers through her wild mane of tangled auburn hair, Aislinn looked about and found the battered leather bag that she always carried with her. Clutching it to her breast, she quickly stood and looked around nervously.
Oi! You there, with the headphones, yes, you, come oe'r here quick. Try not to look so conspicuous, please and thank you, you'll upset the other patron's and then I’ll never get out of here. Just hang out and pretend you're looking at me all interested-like.
Third and final chapter in the saga of Nick Carpenter, priest and occult warrior. This time he ventures into the cold wastes of Antarctica and the mysterious sub-glacial lake of Vostok. Something is happening down there and it's his mission to find out what; and fast, because time is running out. As usual.
Here's a story that I've been shopping around and getting nowhere. It's a zombie story, which is kind of a spoiler. I mean, it's about the first human victim of a zombie plague. And wouldn't you know it, the zombieism starts in Wisconsin's Northwoods. In the home of an affluent Mexican fella. I give you, the tale of The Dark Mallard.
This is my favorite scene from a zombie movie script I've been working on for a couple years. The characters are
1. GUY DOWAN, on the run after losing his more competent comrade to a zombie/creature/thing. I'm imagining him as kind of a combination of Edward Norton in Fight Club and a straight Jon Stewart (if you can imagine such a thing).
2. STEVE THE DRIVER, who first appears in this scene. He is named after Steve Buscemi, who would be my first choice to play the character.
3. BLEARGH, a zombie named for his single line in a previous scene.
The world is mere days from a catastrophe that will mean the end of the world.
Only one thing stands between life and eternal damnation: The Sword of Archangel Michael.
by Adrian Kleinbergen