AUSTRALIAN HORROR AUTHOR
Dying to die,
living to live,
I asked the question of those around me,
but their hand stayed,
their hate no reprieve,
my emptiness suffocating me,
my release not mine to give,
I cant escape the walls of living,
for the world makes it not so,
yet the flesh that houses my spirit,
weak and slow,
could empty out my essance
and start again,
like a wind,
like a seed,
a forgiveness to others,
I just want to be free..
sail down to the city,
where my name is none,
see the lights,
bleed the devils son,
a hunt impossible,
a sea of cum,
worshipping whores of sexual flavours,
a system,
a sum,
polarising insanity,
incessant lies given life,
names told,
cries held,
sinners of a different cult,
brothers,
sisters,
mothers and sons,
purpose driven clarity,
my organs restless,
their life now gone,
a spill of prosperity,
a blade,
my blood,
done…
I lost the thought,
to know the name,
of my reflective self,
an image of me,
his face all twisted,
his eyes empty,
a blissful existence,
of someone not me,
a hidden self,
only I could see,
answers lost in the insanity,
of forever spoken,
the mirror broken,
but whole to me,
for it was all I could see,
fragile is the hand,
of the killer inside me..
A sparrow,
it was I think,
the devils bird,
lost in ink,
we scoured through,
we searched the night.
we wish,
the wish,
not of the light,
I wanted more,
but it had less to give,
a burden life was,
my gift,
was its release…
Place the name,
sign the date,
a promise promoted,
a time without place,
see the system,
flip the toy,
open the door,
give the shape definition,
a chance to be,
all you can do,
is give the wisdom,
share the beat of tomorrow,
let it play out,
sing the song,
west of north,
quit the focus,
there is no trying,
not without defeat,
last time,
this time,
rest up,
as the sun goes down,
and the dirt nap you’ve been waiting for,
will finally take you in…
black is the light,
displaying my insides,
a glowing display,
shown in void of decay,
willow on whispers,
nothing in store,
a sideways disaster,
a plan,
without a plan,
my name,
a deception,
a lie,
in disguise,
place the danger,
in place of yellow,
a colour,
not a place…
I saw the shape,
it had no name,
it gave me purpose,
yet laid no claim,
for countless eons,
for many days,
it stood there watching,
no face,
no name,
winter wailed,
while summer wept,
a death inside me,
a moment not kept,
the weightless watcher,
continued on,
as silent as ever,
the fleeting moments,
turned into countless years,
and in the end,
it came to me,
it said some words,
that made no sense,
but just to be,
a tear it whispered,
as it took away my fears…
Magnificent wonders,
last only as long,
the setting of silence,
the death of the sun,
a mirror that lasted,
an eternity in song,
was given a moment,
a moment then gone,
taken but left here,
shown but not seen,
the tomorrow was yesterday,
and today never comes,
plagues in there droves,
sickness in sin,
a wickedness given,
life done..
Heated window given fly,
a picture painted,
a thousand eyes,
watching,
waiting,
defiled lies,
poisoned arrows,
wicked times are rolling,
unlucky clover,
diminished wisdom,
flexible thighs,
asked to witness,
purpose denied,
quintessential surveillance,
forever is a lie,
the red runs deep,
while the blue is subject to fail,
my colours listed,
my semblance,
unintended…
Puzzled playthings,
written wrong,
a word with difference,
a song to be sung,
listen closely,
hear not my voice,
but the current below it,
the silence,
it is there by choice,
pack the filling,
make it tight,
play the hero,
hide within the curse,
a cure for living,
taken,
but lost…
played tiles of coffin sickness,
a waft of wizardry wonderous dwell,
a cavalcade of simplicity,
wrapped in a winters shell,
a bone resisting the breakages of time,
mirroring past results,
hermit be,
the venom will see,
salutations old man,
farewell to the suit of flesh,
pittance you say,
winners take pole position,
as the sea seeps in,
claim my written end,
a cause,
the obsession,
possess me,
and I will forget…
hello,
was not wished to see,
I gave a word washed in wisdom,
I spoke the thee that was not me,
look for the totem,
beseech the foliage,
rear view,
wet within the stain of circumstance,
protected but lied to,
a truth not seen,
clever siphoned whore,
windows closed nevermore,
an escape disavowed,
running disallowed,
my skirt,
the sin,
pleasure selfish,
a kin,
open close,
signal lost,
purpose simply unopposed…
harrowed magic,
lost but true,
digging downward,
towards the heart,
soil septic,
my shoe,
a hole,
a depth of darkness,
the haggard hand,
time is simple,
diseased heart,
plague of one,
yesterday lost,
upwards now down,
memories,
sounds,
forgotten things not dared to care,
float,
abound…
Caught in a moment,
unrelenting yet futile,
a seemingly beautiful sunrise,
broken by the pain in my heart,
signatures written,
places known to sit,
a speaking moment given,
lonely is the heart that grows fond,
yet bitter is that heart that grows free,
longing lost and lethargic,
pyramid stylised defeat,
a wisdom of nothingness given,
while the window broken swings free…
Douglass looks down at his watch and tries to make out the position of the hands, but the lack of light makes it almost impossible. He sighs, and searches the deserted street looking for something to assist him in his endeavour, that’s when he notices a figure move in the window of one of the houses across the road. He stands there silent and still, his blood running cold. Normally this wouldn’t phase him in the least, you’d expect people to move around inside houses. But here in Flackshore, there shouldn’t be anyone.
Abandoned sixteen years ago, the town has stood as a deserted monument to Gregor Flackshore and his deluded vision of creating his own utopia.
Gregor was rich beyond his means, and with the money came the Insanity. He invested millions in his town, as if it was his own private playroom, which in many ways, it was. He spent countless hours designing many of the towns unusual structures with the world’s leading architects, flawlessly outlining his vision.
When Gregor died, the city became the property of his estate, which had detailed instructions for all his assets to be kept in a trust until his son Michael, was fifty-six. Further to that clause, he also had additional steps to be followed if Michael passed away before he reached the required age. As fate would unfortunately have it, Michael was tragically killed in a car accident on his fifty-second birthday, and never got to step onto the hollowed grounds of Flackshore, a desire he lived with his entire life. Following Gregor’s instructions everything was betrothed upon Michael’s eldest child once they too reached fifty-six. Throughout all the numerous pages of instructions Gregor left, none gave reason or explanation of why fifty-six was chosen, all that was known, was that it was, and so it stayed.
When Douglass set foot on the grounds of Flackshore he was only several hours away from becoming the proud owner of all that was before him, and he didn’t see the sense in waiting several hours when he was only thirty minutes from the towns entrance.
He slowly made his way towards the white picket fence that runs outside the boarder of the house, when he catches movement in the corner of his eye once more, this time the shadowy figure is moving in a window of a different house. For the first time since he set foot on the property, his mind begins to slowly repeat and overthink the words his grandfather had used in his will, and started to wonder about the fifty-six, and why it was so important.
It was at that point he felt his arm tingle with a ferociousness that he had never felt before, and to his horror, he looks down to see a shrouded figure clutching at his arm, trying to drag him away. He pulls his arm free and the thing screams at him, then disappears into the darkness as it runs away.
“What the fuck is going on?” he hisses beneath his breath.
“It’s called a whelp,” a voice says, and he turns to face his long dead grandfather.
“Y-Y-You’re, you’re…”
“Yes, I am, and welcome Douglass, it is so good to finally meet you.”
“B-B-But you’re d-d-dead…”
He smiles, “Aren’t we all?”
“W-W-What? I’m not dead! I-I-I-I’m alive!” Douglass yells, thumping his chest. “M-M-My grandfather’s dead, and whatever you are, your just my imagination playing tricks on me. P-P-Plus it’s dark, and that fucking dog or whatever it was, spooked me the fuck out!”
Gregor’s smile fades, and his eyes grow dark, “Sadly dear child, news of you being alive is greatly exaggerated! For there is only one way in to Flackshore, and by coming along that path, it leaves you no way out.”
***
Follow the below link to purchase 2020 Book Three to read all 20 five minute short stories.
Before you lies a piece of a puzzle far grander than you could ever know or imagine. For scrawled in blood upon the pages hidden within the above tome is stories twisted twenty in all, soaked in the embers of my insanity. Five minutes to glimpse inside the eyes of someone new, five minutes to answer, five minutes to sin, five minutes to do almost anything. A god, a demon, a harlot, a whore. A fascist, a killer, a sinner, a door. Death and division, humanity askew. A belfry of bats, a sea of black cats, so many moments out there to see, so many things you could see with me. So take a seat beside me and call it voodoo, because now you ride with me too…
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The sun’s rays burn brightly down upon his flesh, causing it to blister almost instantly and he lets out a scream of agony while Saffron’s smile grows wider.
“At first, I thought it was a joke, some crude attempt at scoring favour with those in grander positions, and now instead, I am impressed beyond comprehension. But in this, many questions are raised, of course the first begs an answer I cannot wait to ask, one I am sure you are asked many times. How is this the first time I’m seeing an actual true to life vampire in the flesh?” she says with a bemused bounce of curiosity in her voice as the sun’s rays are blocked from view.
“You talk as if you are someone of importance, when you hold no sway or title over your people to be called one. Had you been truly worthy, you would know our existence has been long known to your kind, but we keep ourselves hidden, because that is the will my people have been beheld to.”
“The will your people have been beheld to. Powerful words, you make it sound like you’ve never had a choice in the matter. Why?”
“What makes you think I care to answer your FUCKING questions!” he spits with teeth pointed and bared.
She nods her head, and the shade is removed once again, and he screams in agony until the shades cold touch is returned. “I think we both know my answer to that question, so save yourself some pain my pretty little pet, and tell me what I want to know, tell me why you’ve kept yourselves hidden or I will watch you burn.”
He grips his teeth together and twists his nose upwards. “Centuries ago, both our races co-existed in a complex harmony of living and dying, hunters and the hunted. We owned the night, while the humans ruled the day. All things existed this way for countless eons until an elder vampire by the name of Del Delgo seized control of several vampire clans, because he disagreed with the status quo, and believed vampires deserved to rule both night and day. So a war began, not between the humans and the vampires, but between the vampire clans themselves. For three decades we fought, both sides taking many casualties, but it only came to an end when my maker, Val Valger formed an alliance with the humans, and together they put an end to Del Delgo and all the clans that followed him. In the aftermath Val Valger and the humans agreed it would be wiser if we no longer freely roamed in their world, so he used his power of command over us, his children, and forbid us from revealing ourselves to humans.” he says with a wry grin across his lips. “Does that quell your thirst for knowledge?”
“How have you all survived so long, without revealing yourselves?”
“We have herds of what we call cows, humans bred only for their blood.”
“How do you manage to go unnoticed?”
“We don’t, every once in a while, a human will wander into one of our hives, like a fly into a spiders web, and they are quickly added to the milk shed.”
“I love your little analogies, so picturesque and inviting. I would love to find my way into one of these hives you speak of.”
“Fate has a way of twisting hands in directions it wishes them to twist, so you may find your way into one sooner than you think.”
“How do you procreate?”
“What?” he asks with a bemused look upon his face.
“How do you make new vampires you idiot!” she snaps.
“We don’t.”
Her brow furrows, and her lips arch in unusual ways. “T-Then how does your ranks swell if needed.”
“That is not of my concern, it is of his,” he says with a toothy grin as he nods past them, and into the darkness that has now settled around them.
***
Follow the below link to purchase 2020TOO Book Three to read all 20 five minute short stories.
Before you lies a piece of a puzzle far grander than you could ever know or imagine. For scrawled in blood upon the pages hidden within the above tome is stories twisted twenty in all, soaked in the embers of my insanity. Five minutes to glimpse inside the eyes of someone new, five minutes to answer, five minutes to sin, five minutes to do almost anything. A god, a demon, a harlot, a whore. A fascist, a killer, a sinner, a door. Death and division, humanity askew. A belfry of bats, a sea of black cats, so many moments out there to see, so many things you could see with me. So take a seat beside me and call it voodoo, because now you ride with me too…
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press above to go and follow my Amazon Author Page
press above to go and keep up to date on book releases
a sound not my own,
a bath filled with sick,
pillows made of empty lies,
a window,
a ledge,
this is it,
plagued downward,
haggard saw,
revel the truth,
in my mirror board,
a yes for a no,
know that is now,
words that make no difference,
for the end is how,
pox ridden laurels,
guilt over salt,
the shoulder we throw it,
removable lies,
revolt,
a tomorrow less significant,
a today,
a no more,
no fault…
a window not a mirror,
a reflection not of fiction,
disgusting lies,
told through their eyes,
perchance to be,
a dream I see,
till the smile,
fades from their sea,
a widowed sibling,
a dying tree,
my plant,
my seed,
my fruit nor bore,
quintessential steps taken one after the other,
a world not abroad,
over and under,
left through right,
fire,
birth,
insignificance,
a light not caught…
She smiles awkwardly, in the way you would if you were trying to be sarcastic. But unfortunately, she doesn’t have the comprehension to understand that level of interaction.
“I am only here to please,” she says.
He laughs nervously as he pushes himself further into the couch away from her. “I-I-I-I think the please can be dialled down a bit Veronica,” he stammers.
She grabs his leg tightly and pulls him back towards her. “I am unfamiliar with what you mean by dialled down, can you please update my information cells with this knowledge?”
“I-I-I-It,” he licks his dry lips desperately in the hope of saturating them with some form of liquid, only to find his tongue drier than his lips. He searches in a panic for his drink that was only seconds ago within his reach, but now seems like a mile away.
She quickly spins around and grabs the glass and thrusts it into his face, shattering it into the side of his cheek. The water washes over him, while the glass slices through his flesh, and he screams out in pain.
“I am so sorry,” she says as she sits up and backs away, staring at the mess that sits before her. She tilts her head, as she studies his motionless form, while his dead eyes stare towards her and beyond. She turns to Damien and gives him a blank look of surprise. “I did not mean for that to take place,” she says.
He smiles softly, “Of course you did not my dear. You are still so unfamiliar with the strength you have at your disposal, you are unaware when too much, is too much. We’ll have to spend more time on that at a later date. But right now we have to get you into something more you, and not this thing they all seem to want you to be,” he says as he stands up from his seat and holds out a hand towards her. She gently places her hand in his, and he smiles. “Good girl, you’re learning.” He says as he leads her towards a room full of a hundred or more seemingly sleeping people of various races, sexes and sizes. Slowly they make their way through the room until they come to an empty bed, and she gently sits upon it.
“I am sorry father, I will do better next time, I promise.” She says, her voice void of emotion.
He gently cups her face and wipes a droplet of blood from her cheek.
“I know,” he says as he steps away from her. “Samantha, initiate host dump Veronica,” he says loudly.
Veronica’s eyes glow bright blue, and she stares forward as a mechanical arm feeds down from the roof. “INITIATING HOST DUMP.” A computerised voice echoes throughout the room. Seconds later Veronica’s head splits open to reveal a robotic skull beneath the skin. The mechanical arm reaches down and attaches itself to the skull and pulls it free. Veronica’s head closes once more and she falls to the bed, as if sleeping.
Damien smiles softly at the robotic skull, as he reaches out and gently strokes the side of it. “There you are, my love,” He says proudly.
***
Follow the below link to purchase 2020 Book Three to read all 20 five minute short stories.
Before you lies a piece of a puzzle far grander than you could ever know or imagine. For scrawled in blood upon the pages hidden within the above tome is stories twisted twenty in all, soaked in the embers of my insanity. Five minutes to glimpse inside the eyes of someone new, five minutes to answer, five minutes to sin, five minutes to do almost anything. A god, a demon, a harlot, a whore. A fascist, a killer, a sinner, a door. Death and division, humanity askew. A belfry of bats, a sea of black cats, so many moments out there to see, so many things you could see with me. So take a seat beside me and call it voodoo, because now you ride with me too…
press above to go and follow me over in Facebookland
press above to go and follow my Amazon Author Page
press above to go and keep up to date on book releases
“Foretold in the archives of forever was your coming, waited here for eons have I, missed so many moments, but knew the longer I waited the sooner you would come,” Reginald slurs through dry lips.
“H-How long have you sat here?”
“I counted lost many moons ago, three centuries or more, I’m sure. B-But time eventually become a band of decaying rubber that has relevance to none, or nothing.”
“Y-You waited that long to meet me?”
“I would wait longer, have already done that I think, or am, I forget to remember, or is it remembering to forget,” he lets out a chuckle that originates somewhere deep in his stomach. “Confusion is regular with these conversations, or at least I think it is.”
“You’ve had them before?”
“With you?” he says as his sleepy eyes suddenly find focus and a new lease on life as he gazes upon Clark. “I am unsure, but this conversation I have had many times, with others who profess to be you.”
“Then how can you be sure of anything? Am I the one you’ve been waiting for?”
He smiles softly, “Are you, you?”
“What? How does that answer my question?”
He laughs, “Your question is irrelevant to fact, while mine is all. Now answer it, are you, you?”
Clark lets out a chiselled sigh. “Yes, I am me.”
“Then you are he who I have waited for, until you are not.”
“What the FUCK does ‘until I am not’ mean?”
“Exactly what it is intended to mean. There is no argument from either me or you, that you are indeed you, and you are without question the one who has found me, so in definition of all the facts before us, you are indeed he who is expected to be. But, if you do not survive the temptations that follow, then you are not he, and I, meaning me, will continue to wait.”
“T-The temptations?”
“Yes, the final part of your quest, that which you have started this journey to achieve, that which has brought you to me.”
Clark rummages through his hair with a claw like grip, scratching layers of dried dead skin from his scalp. “Look, if I’m to be honest, I haven’t got a single FUCKING clue about what treasures lie at the end of all this. I was hired to carry all their gear, and chop shit out of everyone else’s way while they told me what to carry and where to chop. I’m a no one, without any intention of being someone else. So, if it’s okay with you, I’ll go back the way I came.”
“There is no way you came, there is only where you can go.” Reginald cackles with laughter as the floor beneath Clark falls away, and he tumbles into the entrance of a maze older than time itself.
With fevered desperation he casts a panicked glare back up at Reginald. “W-W-WHAT IS GOING ON! I-I-I, I TOLD YOU I WASN’T T-THE ONE! I TOLD Y-YOU I LIED! LET ME GO!” he bellows, only for Reginald to smile wryly back.
“And I told you, you are the one, until you are not,” he says as the floor reassembles itself above Clark, leaving a single stone unplaced as a bloodcurdling scream is roared from somewhere inside the maze. “I’d run if I were you,” Reginald quips as the final stone is put in place and Clark is left in the darkness, but before he can move, he feels a gust of warmth hits his face that is quickly followed by the smell of rotten decaying flesh.
***
Follow the below link to purchase 2020TOO Book Three to read all 20 five minute short stories.
Before you lies a piece of a puzzle far grander than you could ever know or imagine. For scrawled in blood upon the pages hidden within the above tome is stories twisted twenty in all, soaked in the embers of my insanity. Five minutes to glimpse inside the eyes of someone new, five minutes to answer, five minutes to sin, five minutes to do almost anything. A god, a demon, a harlot, a whore. A fascist, a killer, a sinner, a door. Death and division, humanity askew. A belfry of bats, a sea of black cats, so many moments out there to see, so many things you could see with me. So take a seat beside me and call it voodoo, because now you ride with me too…
press above to go and follow me over in Facebookland
press above to go and follow my Amazon Author Page
press above to go and keep up to date on book releases
