This book started as a warm-up exercise for me, I would pull up a list of various poetic formats, and attempt to write a horror poem in that format. It was a lot of fun, both exploring new forms and trying to write thematically.
Poetry in one form or another has been around almost as long as language. We have used it to communicate our joys and heartbreaks, our victories and our losses. But fear has also been a constant companion, and our ghost stories and monsters stretch their claws back into history as far as the eyes can see. It’s with this in mind that we begin our journey through various poetic forms, from traditional Japanese Haiku to more modernist takes such as The Bop. Exploring the rules that create these literary creations all while bending their use to telling scary stories. Heavily inspired by the American pulp horror writers of the 1930’s, this chapbook explores themes of madness and forgotten monsters. Haunted houses that demand sacrifice and sunken cities waiting to be rediscovered. 25 poems, each using different forms dive into the chilling and often deranged world of horror.
This will be the first of a three-part chapbook series. Each book will feature 25 different forms (for 75 total) and cover a different horror theme. This one deals heavily with insanity and Lovecraftian motifs. Our next book will feature Slashers and Serial Killers, and our third will feature Kaiju and monsters!
I encourage you to go pick up your copy, and write a review on Amazon for me, believe it or not, those reviews really help!
We near a time of conjunction, the season when goats will breed and give birth is nearly on us, and I must make ready. The true education of Atohi has gone swifter than I had hoped, her natural inclination towards lust and anger give her the truest path towards the worship of the Holy Mother. I have decided that when it is time, that she will be given to the Thousandth Child and bring the Mother’s offspring into this place, it is only fitting that I reward such slavish devotion. Of course, the changes in such a new convert are harder to hide, and I have taken to keeping her hidden from the rest of the mission as much as I am able.
I stare at my hand. That’s where it starts, in my hand, it twitches, the skin bursts and instead of blood and viscera new skin shows through the seams of my body. It wasn’t human skin, scales, ridges, claws. I flexed my talons, watching the play of muscle under the scaled skin of my arm. I could feel the change taking the rest of my body. Continue reading Flash Friday: Welcomed Change
I was correct in my last entry, Paulo continued to ask questions, his infatuation with ideals not holding him back from questioning my directives. I have been making inroads with the natives, the key, as any church founder of Christianity could explain, is to bend the teachings of both the population in question and the faith you wish to instill until they seem indistinguishable. Give the savages the utter belief that their gods are in fact merely a mask worn by the God you wish for them to worship.
Pen scritched on paper, each line carefully drawn with the care that the artist showed no other object in this world. With every stroke, the artist added detail, or the hint of detail, so true to life, that it seemed to breathe on the page.
“It won’t be good enough.” The subject of her art rasped. She didn’t answer, taking time to sketch the curve of a cheekbone. “It won’t work.” It mocked.
She paused then, her face, which had been a passive mask as perfectly placid as any stone bust, suddenly broke into a snarl. Wordlessly she crumpled her beautiful sketch and threw it at her tormentor. It landed amidst the bones, disturbing a spider that had made its home in the desiccated ribcage. Slowly, the artist regained control of her breathing and began to sketch again, ignoring the hundreds of similarly wadded pieces of paper lying around her.
My name is Fray Jose Martinez, and I came from Spain to the New World in order to bring the savages of this land to the worship of my God. I keep this journal now, so that those that come after me may continue this holy work, and understand how the divine came to inhabit this place.
He stood silently waiting, above him, the bare light bulb flickered sporadically. It had come to this, not in any organized or planned way, but through synchronicity. There was nowhere else he could be. There was nothing else he could do. Outside the world was deathly silent. It was gone, all of it. All that remained were these walls and the flickering bare bulb. There would be nothing soon. He faded along with the world.
You read that right! Madness Heart Radio is now available on iTunes, you can go there at any point and listen to me read these stories, twice a week! Holy Moly! Please remember to subscribe, rate and leave a review on iTunes, it really does make a difference! (click the heart to go there now!)
Michael approached the front doors of Douglas Security, ready to begin his first day on the job. It had been a long job search, jumping from industry to industry, lowering pay expectations and finally, just looking for anyone who would take him on. Security was certainly the last place he had thought to look, but his friend, Nathan, had suggested it, even said he could get Mike into his firm. Michael was a big guy, and he had gotten into trouble more than a handful of times. It’s part of what made finding a job so difficult, even with experience and a good CV, few people could see past the words felony charge or aggravated assault. Nathan assured him that privatized security wouldn’t bat an eye, so long as he wasn’t a thief.
Introducing a companion podcast for Madness Heart Press. We record an audio version of each story, for those of you who don’t have time to sit and read, you can listen to the author read each story while on your way to work, or wherever you enjoy podcasts. You can get to the podcast in the sidebar, or you can find it on iTunes.
Worth mentioning, our theme song is ‘Cavalry in Thousands’ by Tengger Cavalry.