Terrifying Sea Witch Tale: Jeffrey LeBlanc’s “Curse of the Sea Witch” Episode 1
“The fairest fade and the fairest now rot!” Hawkeye laughed at Maddie Badeaux as she held the body of her Millie.”–Jeffrey LeBlanc (Curse of the Sea Witch)
“The fairest fade and the fairest now rot!” Hawkeye laughed at Maddie Badeaux as she held the body of her Millie.”–Jeffrey LeBlanc (Curse of the Sea Witch)
Children of Horror,/ Legion of Ghouls,
Tonight, we dug August Derleth’s hideous corpse from under some thick vines of wild grapes. This ghastly tale will make you never look at grapes the same way again. We present August Derleth’s “Wild Grapes”.
And some return by the failing light
And some in the waking dream
For she hears the heels of the dripping ghosts
That ride the rough roofbeam–Rudyard Kipling
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“This apartment was suffused with a faint greenish light, the source of which I could not determine, making everything distinctly visible, though nothing was sharply defined. Everything, I say, but in truth the only objects within the blank stone walls of that room were human corpses. In number they were perhaps eight or ten – it may well be understood that I did not truly count them. They were of different ages, or rather sizes, from infancy up, and of both sexes. All were prostrate on the floor, excepting one, apparently a young woman, who sat up, her back supported by an angle of the wall. A babe was clasped in the arms of another and older woman. A half-grown lad lay face downward across the legs of a full-bearded man. One or two were nearly naked, and the hand of a young girl held the fragment of a gown which she had torn open at the breast. The bodies were in various stages of decay, all greatly shrunken in face and figure. Some were but little more than skeletons.”–Ambrose Bierce (The Spook House)
Then his voice rose until it filled the cavern. “But the curse was nothing. Words can do no harm, can do nothing, to a man. I live. A hundred generations have I seen come and go, and yet another hundred. What is time? The sun rises and sets, and another day has passed into oblivion. Men watch the sun and set their lives by it. They league themselves on every hand with time. They count the minutes that race them into eternity. Man outlived the centuries ere he began to reckon time. Time is man-made. Eternity is the work of the gods. In this cavern there is no such thing as time. There are no stars, no sun. Without is time; within is eternity. We count not time. Nothing marks the speeding of the hours. The youths go forth. They see the sun, the stars. They reckon time. And they pass. –Robert E. Howard (The Lost Race)
“And, on that first winter breaker, of Grand Isle’s coldest winter…Pierre Santiny plunged into the sea and was seen no more. But none on the island will ever say he died!”–Jeffrey LeBlanc (The Mariner of Caminada Pass)
“Whimpering a little, with the hunger of a starved hound, he waited. He was a monster that nature had made, ready to obey nature’s first commandment: Thou shalt kill and eat. He was a thing of terror… a fable whispered around prehistoric cavern-fires… a miscegenation allied by later myth to the powers of hell and sorcery. But in no sense was he akin to those monsters beyond nature, the spawn of a new and blacker magic, who killed without hunger and without malevolence.”–Clark Ashton Smith (Monsters in the Night)
“And a Shape in the shadows wags its grisly head forever?
You swore by the blood-crust that stained your dagger,
By the haunted woods where hoofed feet swagger,
And under grisly burdens misshapen creatures stagger.
Up, John Kane, and cease your quaking!
You have made the pact which has no breaking,
And your brothers are eager their thirst to be slaking.
Up, John Kane! Why cringe there, and cower?
The pact was sealed with the dark blood-flower;
Glut now your fill in the werewolf ’s hour!”–Robert E. Howard (Up, John Kane!)
There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be properly made.-Edgar Allan Poe (The Masque of the Red Death)
Excerpt from Stephen Sinclair’s “Billy Loved Old Books”
“I hear the roar of fire and the screams of a dying world. I smell the charring of burnt souls. I feel the icy chill of Death. I feel the heated blast of Hell.”–Brandon J Crookston (The Lore of Nocturnus)
“Farewell for awhile, Christophe. But have no fear. You shall find me again if you are brave and patient.”–Clark Ashton Smith (The End of the Story)
I stand chilled and alone in a desolate cane field next to a dead man. His neck is twisted and bent
at an unnatural angle. The yellowed waxen skin—rifled with wounds, of his throat and torso are
exposed. As I look on with a gust of a cold wind at my back, I notice chunks of flesh have been
torn from both. Maculations of crimson on leaves and the splatter of frozen blood surround his
body. But it’s the eyes of the man I’ll remember to my last days. Wide, fixed in shock, they hide
some terrifying secret only the mutilated corpse may know.–Jeffrey LeBlanc (The Curious Death of Dionysus Chennault)
Some of my nightmares screaming release are spiders devouring a team of researchers in an African cave; a scientist and his family slither into the swamp to encounter deadly snails; and a vampire’s curse lets the blood fly. Many more Hellish creatures are in that abyss waiting for their next victim. Conjured abominations that should never see the light of day.
Check out the collection on Amazon and Kindle. We pray “These Hallowed Horrors” keep you awake at night, looking under the bed…or over your shoulder in a moonlit forest or sea.
With these conjured verses we didn’t plan on jump scares or worn-out horror cliché. We wanted something that scares or unnerves…and different. Maybe we got it right this time. Or maybe it leaves a little something to grow on your mind down the road. As a werewolf bite, a nest of hungry spiders…or slithering slugs, in your brain.
And…as always, devilishly devoted to horror may your soul always be! -JL
“Poetry in the right, devilish hands…can be terrifying! “–Jeffrey LeBlanc (Horrors to Scorch Earth)