Category: alaska

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“The trouble with him was that he was without imagination. He was quick and alert in the things of life, but only in the things, and not in the significances. Fifty degrees below zero meant eighty-odd degrees of frost. Such fact impressed him as being cold and uncomfortable, and that was all. It did not lead him to meditate upon his frailty as a creature of temperature, and upon man’s frailty in general, able only to live within certain narrow limits of heat and cold; and from there on it did not lead him to the conjectural field of immortality and man’s place in the universe.”
― Jack London (To Build a Fire)

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Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy dominion! But of the loved, revered, and honoured head, thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It is not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand was open, generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a man’s. Strike, Shadow, strike! And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sow the world with life immortal! –Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol)

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To feel alive with your terrified pulse pounding, to feel the warm embrace of love, to have your teeth chatter with fear, the stomach quivering nausea of dread, or the blinding throes of rage, is what I offer with this collection. These horror poems I share with you have blazed the flames brightly to inspire me to create the most ghastly of horror tales and the most powerful of rock songs to date. You’re going to know my soul crushing angst in ‘Blood in the Pouring Rain’ as I saved my father’s life. You’ll look over your shoulder a glance or two maybe with a tear hearing the haunting ‘Sarah the Eternal’. And maybe you will laugh and howl along with ‘Ghost on Christmas Mountain’ to lift your spirits.

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Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.–William Butler Yeats (The Stolen Child)

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#weirdtales #werewolf #horrorstories #books #icehorror#manlywadewellman #witchcraft #booktube #horrorstory #youtube #winter #horrorstories #death #cold #necronomicon #horrorstory #horrorshorts #appalachians “How could they know the frenzy, the throttling rage and the blood-thirst that closed over me like water in my locked room—every month, on the night when the moon was full?” —Manly Wade Wellman (The Werewolf Snarls) https://youtube.com/@dwellerofthedark?sub_confirmation=1 […]

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#weirdtales #books #icehorror#lovecraft #resurrection #youtube #winter #horrorstories #death #cold #necronomicon #horrorstory #horrorshorts #appalachians You ask me to explain why I am afraid of a draught of cool air; why I shiver more than others upon entering a cold room and seem nauseated and repelled when the chill of evening creeps through the heat of a […]

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#weirdtales #youtube #winter #horrorstories #yare #mountainhorror #manlywadewellman #horrorstory #horrorshorts #appalachians “Stryker was silent, trying to visualize such a figure. Jendel ate chicken and pone. ‘Like what I say, I wasn’t round here when he was,’ he said. ‘But a heap of folks said Yare wasn’t true human blood, he’d been born of some kind of […]

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“Pondering these things Haïta became melancholy and morose. He no longer spoke cheerfully to his flock, nor ran with alacrity to the shrine of Hastur. In every breeze he heard whispers of malign deities whose existence he now first observed. Every cloud was a portent signifying disaster, and the darkness was full of terrors.”—Ambrose Bierce (Haita the Shepherd)

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“McReady raised his head, looked vaguely at the knife in his hand, and dropped it. His laugh was shaky, almost a laugh of relief. “Well, whoever did it can speak up now. He was an inhuman murderer at that—in that he murdered an inhuman. I swear by all that’s holy, Kinner was a lifeless corpse on the floor here when we arrived—but when it found we were going to jab it with the power gadget there—it changed.” –John W. Campbell (Frozen Hell)

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“The man repeated the names slowly and distinctly, as if to fix them in the memories of his audience, every member of which was now attentively observing him, but with a slackened apprehension regarding his possible companions somewhere in the darkness that seemed to enclose us like a black wall; in the manner of this volunteer historian was no suggestion of an unfriendly purpose.”—Ambrose Bierce (The Stranger)