Tag: edgar allan poe

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Yet, are we mistaken, as he fades in and out, in curious time as the arcs of lightning?
As you smell the scent of rain, sea, and something ancient and dead, you hear ghastly laughs around you as the storm continues to approach. Shadows continue to whisper. There is no escape and no reprieve from the whisperers beyond.
Out of the singed heart of cosmic horror, and electrifying arcs of slime, we introduce you to the terrifying dimensions of the mortal immortal, Isaac Abramovitch in “The Masque of Death”.
William Blake captured Isaac’s nightmarish world so poignantly in the verses below.

Cruelty has a Human Heart
And Jealousy a Human Face
Terror, the Human Form Divine
And Secrecy, the Human Dress
The Human Dress, is forged Iron
The Human Form, a fiery Forge.
The Human Face, a Furnace seal’d
The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge –William Blake (A Divine Image)

Follow on children of horror through winding, spiraling, dark dimensions as we journey ever on into thunderheads on sandy shores, shadowed waterways, fog-foetid bayous, and amongst the darkness of decayed swamp without torch, flashlight, or candle flame with only electric arcs to light our way.
Those distant, shadowed whispers you hear are nothing to fear. And the tentacle monstrosity climbing out of a ripped dimension circling you can’t be a d—, or can they? There’s no such thing of course.

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You were the burning ones who scorched sky and frightened wraith.
Do you hail as the Light Bringer’s children who dared to challenge God’s faith?
Are you the fallen sons of Enoch before time and religion had begun?
Yet history hails you as descendants of the fallen Adam or Neptune’s chosen
one.

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“Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom”—H.P. Lovecraft

Follow me children of horror as we cross the ghoul guarded gateways, the labyrinth of the lost, ancient cyclopean stairs of moss, and the decrepit crypt into that cherished abyss that is moonlight, swamp, and darkest night. Journey with us through midnight worlds with no torch, no candle, and no flashlight with just the occasional arc of lightning.

Forever are we outsiders to their world and the coil that is man. And, for that, relish in the strange, the grotesque, and the un-nerving tales of their tragic encounters with supernatural terror.-JL

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We have expanded distribution for and placed “Wings of the Seraph” into paperback and e-book now. You can order on Kindle, Amazon, and soon Kindle Audible!

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. He saw towers and walls in nighted depths under the sea, and vortices of space where wisps of black mist floated before thin shimmerings of cold purple haze. And beyond all else he glimpsed an infinite gulf of darkness, where solid and semi-solid forms were known only by their windy stirrings, and cloudy patterns of force seemed to superimpose order on chaos and hold forth a key to all the paradoxes and arcana of the worlds we know.

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The terrifying, the strange, and the deadly all come out to play in “Wolves, Wings, & Other Things” a collection of horror, science fiction, and fantasy tales set throughout Louisiana.

Now, in honor of recent HWA verification and Dark Regions Honorable Mentions x 3, we are offering for a short time the collection at a special prices for fans.

Check us out on Kindle, YouTube, and soon Patreon and beyond!

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MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch, –as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness? –from the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.

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I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand–

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In literature I have walked the midnight paths with Poe or crept amidst the shadows with
Machen; combed the realms of horrific stars with Baudelaire, or steeped myself with earth’s inner madness amidst the tales of ancient lore.

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In that same silver paradise of shimmering night, as an alligator bellowed, mosquitos hummed, and green tree frogs chirped….a million crickets rubbed their wings together and sang.

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Trapped at the bottom of the ocean, David Ames fights a terrible menace that would rule the world with cadavers!

https://youtu.be/1KVYv8M6xLE

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Tonight we present a Christmas poem in the tradition of M.R. James and inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”. This one is dedicated to the love of my life, my wife Katina. The Owl By Jeffrey LeBlanc Once, long ago as midnight was creeping, I contemplating, powerless half sleeping,    Falling upon ominous trail […]

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We’re headed on a midnight train, southbound to a land known to be pretty hot. It’s not sizzling New Orleans, but I’m sure Hell’s pretty close in temperature to the city where care forgot. We are greatly honored to introduce the great Robert Bloch. He was a fiction writer with a diverse array of stories […]

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Dweller of the Dark Presents “The Sleeper” by Edgar Allan Poe A heart beats in a rat covered tomb, bells ring out from an abandoned church, a black cat screams in the shadows, and a raven screeches, “Nevermore” as we return to the ghostly grave of Edgar Allan Poe. Edgar Allan Poe, the master of […]

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The master of terror and the macabre, Edgar Allan Poe was a writer, editor, and literary critic. He’s best known for his poetry and short stories. Poe is widely regarded as a central figure of Romanticism in the United States and of American literature, and he was one of the country’s earliest practitioners of the […]