Bark at the Moon, scream as a madman,
Five decades have past golden father of the dark,
Voice pure fire, pure blues in metal desire,
Spilled your sins as easily as blood on black altar,
Kept it real growing the red army to stay,
Kept them hypocrites screamin’ the Devil’s at play.
–KING OF DARKNESS
#youtube #pagan #booktube #arthurmachen #weirdtales #horrorstories #pan #faun #horrorstory #horrorshorts #thegreatgodpan #satyr ‘Why? Because it made my blood run cold to see that man’s face. I could never have supposed that such an infernal medley of passions could have glared out of any human eyes; I almost fainted as I looked. I knew I had […]
It was the indignant grins of the liches that made him aware. Jovial secret jests as the cretins observed the pitter of dripping water from the funeral home’s roof onto his dead wife’s waxen face. In that callous moment with this crowd of sycophants, Roger almost turned maniacal. Grumbling in a rage, he saw the owner—Trampus Hock, run to wipe the water from her cheek. –Jeffrey LeBlanc (Hell’s Forge)
Long were the mansion’s mysteries, horrendous were its horrors, and vague were the details of the missing and presumed dead across the mansion grounds. For the past, and the forgetful dead had now hidden much of the sinister, and fogged the memory of the evil that had scorched the manor with a more devious name—Hell’s Forge. Jeffrey LeBlanc (Hell’s Forge)
“Where’s…the…blood?!
The music—especially that fiery jazz, the cries of laughter, and the aroma of cloves and cayenne kicking up spicy foods, have kept the blood flowing in New Orleans for hundreds of years. For hundreds of years, the blood—the Life, has flowed down the mighty Mississippi into the dark rues, and alleys of the Quarter. And…on more than one occasion, in the city that never sleeps, a fool or the foolhardy has perished.”—Jeffrey LeBlanc (The Devil of Black Bayou (Comedic Short)
“Then down from the great red stars above, each like a misty plume,
There fell on my face long drops of blood and I knew at last my doom.”–Robert E. Howard (The Fear That Follows)
Thro’ the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-moon’d abysses of night,
I have liv’d o’er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.–H.P. Lovecraft
“Mine eyes have looked on sorcery in dark and naked lands,
“Horror born of the jungle gloom and death on the pathless sands.”–Robert E. Howard
That was the train the drunks and the sinners rode — the gambling men and the grifters, the big-time spenders, the skirt-chasers, and all the jolly crew.
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 […]
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 […]
Jeffrey LeBlanc 