Fee Fi Fo Fin

"In Entertainment news today, New York rock band Charnel Dreams and their label, Conqueror Worm Records, have once again found themselves in hot water. The controversy comes from the band's newly released single " Buried, Uninterred" . The song, released ahead of Charnel Dreams' upcoming album " The Looking Glass " makes allusions to the ongoing hunt for the Subway Butcher and the Butcher's crimes, including explicit lyrics detailing the murder of the Butcher's first victim, Dianne Carroway, in 1996. The song then goes on to allude that the victims live with the Butcher in a highly explicit subterranean afterlife together. The FBI, who have been investigating the murders for three years, were asked for a comment, we have yet to hear any reply. And in other news, in two weeks it will be the one-year anniversary of the Townshend Flood. The Flood was believed to have been caused by an accidental explosion that significantly damaged a dam upriver of...

A piece of microfiction inspired by my playthrough of God's Teeth.  He had been imagining the island: blue sky, white sand, the children in their togas, the masked priests and their knives and masks in the likeness of animals - invokers of an invisible power, priests of a hidden god. His mind often wandered there. He had never been, obviously. But he would try his best to construct it in his mind, always resembling something akin to a Greek isle - what he imagined a Greek isle would look like, informed by google images, by the half-a-dozen rewatches of Mama Mia! he indulged (endured) for the woman who would later become his wife when she was in college and he was just starting out flying helicopters. It might have been a nice place. Maybe. But he knew better. Blood rites happened there in service to the horrors he aids The Program in destroying, death was there, hate was there, the children were there too, mute and mutilated and serene, as was the cruelty that molded them. The chil...

The second half of this post is a copy of the short story "Bleeding Darkness" by Shane Ivey from the old Delta Green website. As he washes his hands, the sound rushes to him unbidden until he screws his eyes shut and places his palms against them. He is a man of four-and-forty years, he has been a catholic priest for twenty-four of them, and even now the business of exorcism frightens him. In the darkness behind his eyelids - in the strange, imaginary dancing dendroids and bismuth crystals, which he knows are only illusions, he is aware of a subtle steady mechanism at work in his mind: his entire life-experience reconfiguring itself to accommodate a new truth, as if his whole life were pictures hung on the wall, and he were forced to take them down and swap their frames, and in doing so he changes the images slightly, discovering a new and disturbing perspective of their content. It was as if maybe the picture-frames hid some detail, a figure in the margins; a vague shape kno...

When his feet began to burn and lungs began to ache, he'd find an pine with an adequately high canopy that he would crawl beneath. Then he would kneel below it as if in prayer, undoing his rucksack and drinking his water, then he'd sit. The hood of his poncho pulled over his head so as not to get sap in his hair.  He'd sit and listen, inspecting the sounds of the woods, breathing slowly through his nose, not smiling and not thinking, and occasionally, sleep would come to him. He found it funny how it sneaks up on him. No one ever sees sleep coming until its done.  In his daydreams, as he sat awake below the canopy, and in his sleep, he would revisit the college years. He would remember sitting in dim dormitories at midnight with people who, even now, he considered his closest friends; two parts drunk and speaking earnestly about love and fear and uncertainty, conversations he would never dream of broaching with his chums from grade school. He remembered the things that made...