Saturday, August 21, 2010

(Recommended Reads) OUT OF THE BOX by Maria A. Kelly

He woke up in the dark, tried to scream and couldn't.

He was standing, that much he knew because his legs were sore. He was in a tiny closet. No, that wasn't right. He was encased: tomb-like, in a wooden crate like a coffin, but with the lid at the top over his head.

Someone had put him in here while he had been passed out from the party. And how long ago had that been? A couple of hours? More? He did not know. He felt something hot and wet trickling down his face. He wriggled his arm up in the small space and tentatively touched the spot that was sore. His nose. It was bleeding. Did someone hit him in the face? He couldn't remember. He hoped it wasn't broken...


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MAD MAD MAD MAD MOVIES tells us about one of the strangest films of all time - THE BABY!


Reading synopses, reviews, and open-mouthed shock reactions for Ted Post's 1973 weirdo exploitation romp The Baby, I had somehow got the idea that at least part of the movie's shock value was inherent in the reveal of its premise--a social worker goes to the house of an eccentric family to assess the needs of their "special" youngest member, only to discover that the "baby" she thought she'd be caring for is in fact a thirty-year old man in an oversized crib and diapers. Therefore I worried that, since I knew the premise going in, much of the effectiveness of that shock reveal would be diffused...


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Friday, August 20, 2010

(Recommended Article) Protecting the Babies by P.J. Kaiser

Hannah walked to the landing, peered over the railing and saw her housekeeper’s small figure dwarfed by the large vacuum and bucket of cleaning supplies.  “Good morning, Lucila.”  Hannah went back to preparing her breakfast in the kitchen.  She heard puffing as Lucila climbed the stairs.  The bucket clunked onto the floor followed by the vacuum.  Hannah looked up and managed a smile...

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5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Twenty Four

"She's beautiful and she has an extensive thesaurus collection," he said, "and I wanna live with a Synonym Girl."

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Twenty Three

Even the Great Old Ones moved with the times that was why in his house at R'yleh dead Cthulhu waits twittering.

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Twenty Two

While it was an original idea the world just wasn't ready for DELIVERANCE cosplay.

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Twenty One

Thalia cornered the evil wizard in a deli only have him create a monster of selected meats. This was the wurst case scenario.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

CORPSE WARS: The Fandom Menaced episode two


The Fandom Menaced

episode two


Al Bruno III

...the shambling figures reached the end of the line, the fans were gasping and gagging at the smell but they refused to move and lose their spots. They stood their ground, even when the figures fell upon them, biting and tearing at their flesh.

Two chubby Darth Mauls were fighting for their lives against a hoard of sickly-looking creatures whose clothes and flesh hung off their frames in tatters. The Darth Mauls swung their plastic, double-ended light sabers futilely. The roar and crackle of the embedded sound effects chips was soon drowned out by screams.

Mark felt his knees go watery, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Alec said.

“What?” Mark asked.

“Those are zombies. Real zombies!”

“But…” Mark said, “…the movie...”

“I think this showing is canceled.”

All the fans started to run at once, several Jedis tripped over their costumes and were easy prey. Mark was smart enough to lift up his robes like a girl skipping over a puddle, “This is just my damn luck.”

“It’s not all about you buddy,” Alec led him back to where they were parked. The Spectrum Theater was bordered on one side by a residential neighborhood and on the other by a small playground. Crossing the street was treacherous business; cars were careening this way and that, ignoring traffic lights and stop signs. They had to run for it. Alec lead the way, “Come on.”

Just as Mark set his foot off the sidewalk he heard a dull thump and turned to see the fat guy wearing Princess Leia’s metal bikini crash through the windshield of a speeding truck. The truck careened sideways and slammed into a utility pole. Thrashing, snapping wires and sparks rained down on the crumpled vehicle

“Oh my God,” Mark couldn’t move; he could only watch the horde of hungry dead converge on the truck. They clawed their way through the shattered windshield, bare feet oblivious to the broken glass. Occasionally a power line would catch one of them and it would be blown backwards, only to get back up again a moment later.

Mark glanced to his right to see another group of the zombies heading their way. How many of these things were there? Why wasn’t someone doing something?

Alec gave him a shove, “Keep moving.”

They slowed to walk near the edge of the playground. Alec looked around, “Where’s the Falcon?”

Alec had named his car the Millennium Falcon 2, and while the rusty compact wasn’t much to look at, it could make a Taco Bell run in record time.

“You got towed didn’t you?” Mark said.

“They can’t have towed me.”

“You parked right in front of a No Parking Sign!”

Alec raised a finger, “No. I parked behind the No Parking sign and in front of a No Stopping or Standing sign. I was effectively in a parking neutral zone, a no man’s land just big enough for an AMC Gremlin.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Then why didn’t you say so before?”

“I did say so before!”

“Hey,” Alec said, “We’re gonna have company.”

Alec looked down the block, more zombies were heading their way, some were dressed in suits slit up the back, the rest wore bloodied rags, “Oh boy. Here we go again.”

“Let’s head for the main drag.” Mark said, “There’s got to be a cop or an army recruiting station- somebody with guns.”

They made their way through the residential neighborhood. The houses were modest two story affairs, with narrow yards and long walkways. Occasionally they would spy a door hanging open or a shape lumbering past a shattered picture window. A cloying foulness hung in the air, it kept Mark running, even though his lungs were aching. Alec tagged behind him, cursing under his every breath. Off in the distance they could hear sirens and shouts.

Three blocks later they were barely running, twice Alec had paused to lean on one of the majestic old trees and throw up. The single keening note of a car horn grew louder with every footstep. They slowed their pace to a walk and saw a red Escort sitting in a driveway with the engine running and its doors hanging open. A figure was slumped over the steering wheel.

“Finally some good luck,” Alec said.

Mark looked at him disbelievingly, “We’re going to steal a car?”

“I’ve kept my arrest record clean for a situation just like this.”

They drew closer, they could see now that the man slumped over the steering wheel had massive wounds in his neck and arms- bite marks. Blood congealed on the dashboard and the windshield; it traced a path down the man’s clothes to pool in his lap.

Mark drew back, “You really want to drive in that disgusting mess? What am I saying? This is the man that had chipmunks living in the back seat of his Gremlin…”

“Hey!” Alec grabbed the body to pull it free, “I still insist those chipmunks were planted by my ex-wife.”

The body fell back from the steering wheel, the blaring horn stopped. The sudden silence left Mark’s ears ringing. Alec pulled the body again but it just swayed in the seat. “Come help me,” Alec said, “he’s stuck.”

“He’s buckled in,” Mark fidgeted in place but didn’t move any closer, “look lets just keep going. Central Avenue is just a few blocks away. There’s got to be someone that can help. All you’re going to do is get us in some kind of trouble.”

“I find your lack of faith in me disturbing.” Alec said with a smile.

“Look out!”

Suddenly the body reared up. It clawed at Alec, grabbing hold of his hat and shirt. Its mouth lolled open in anticipation, drooling cold rivulets of blood and spittle...

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Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Rebecca Whitaker adds some artwork to the page...

I have some very artistic friends don't I?

The super creepy trailer for VANISHING ON 7TH STREET

Twitch is your source for all things related to strange and wonderful cinema.

(Recommended Article) BLOODSPRAYER has an article about two of my favorite things: Kate Bush and Horror!


There are few other creative figures of a more distinct, visionary and idiosyncratic nature to have emerged from the music industry in the twentieth century, than that of Kate Bush. Not only is she an artist who has accomplished the rare feat of combining musical innovation with commercial success, but she is one who also managed to do so on her own terms, whilst maintaining complete creative control of her work. Bush, in the words of one critic, ‘got all the madwomen down from the attic and into the charts.’ The singer is heavily inspired by the world of art, philosophy, literature and indeed cinema, drawing upon an almost encyclopaedic array of influences. When one takes a closer look at her work, it becomes apparent that Bush is something of a horror aficionado, drawing on a number of sources to lend her compositions rich, blood-dark depth...


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5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Twenty

The corporation went broke so fast that the CEO was left with only twenty cents to his name. Talk about new paradigms.

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Nineteen

They told Psychotic Kid that he'd have to be crazy to try and take on the Reddeath. He simply replied, “Well duh.”

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Eighteen

As Captain Hero plummeted into the garbage Dumpster he thought to himself that they just didn't make ledges like they used to.

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Seventeen

Superhero luchador Fuego wanted to take his old tag team partner out to dinner at an expensive restaurant but he was tapped out.

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Sixteen

There were some that found Commander Infinity's catchphrase “You can count on me!” both confusing and annoying.

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Fifteen

Ironically enough Amazing Ed got tea-bagged at the local amusement park's ball pit.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010


Sweet Nothings
Al Bruno III

The hotel desk clerk’s baggy eyes widened at the mere mention of the number. “732? You don’t want that room.”

Every year the same thing, a different clerk with the same questions. Ordinarily I endured the interminable excuses but this year’s pilgrimage had been particularly unpleasant. The car had coughed, sputtered and threatened to die at every rest stop; the clouds had been bloated and full of rain.

Rainy days were always the hardest.

So, I nipped the discussion in the bud. With an offhand gesture I tossed a wad of bills on the counter and spoke again, “Room 732 please.”

“You don’t- ”

“Give me room 732 for the night, and you can keep the change.”

The expression on the desk clerk’s face was almost comical, he swept the bills out of sight and slipped me the key. Turning away from the counter I headed down the familiar maze of hallways. The desk clerk’s unspoken questions burned at my back,
Why that room? Haven’t you heard the stories? Aren’t you afraid?

I made sure I was out of sight before he decided to ask any of them.

When I had first come here-

No, not I.

When we had first come here, this was a four star establishment, with brightly lit hallways, working elevators, even room service. The elevator had stopped working three years ago, and when the bulbs in the hallways burnt out no one bothered to replace them. I pushed the door to the stairwell open; figures crouched in the murk, grunting half-heartedly. Bypassing them I headed up the stairs, debris crunching underfoot.

I was out of breath by the time I reached the seventh floor, no surprise there really. I’m not a young man anymore. Sometimes I wondered to myself why the hotel had fallen out of favor so quickly. It couldn’t just be the fact that someone had died here, after all, people died in their hotel rooms all the time. Maybe it was the way she died, maybe the horror of her final moments was so profound that it permeated every floor and hallway. Maybe the slumbering business travelers and vacationing families would wake at exactly 1:49 AM, their hearts beating wildly and their sheets drenched with sweat. Maybe it was nothing more than new, more conveniently located-off ramp that cut this whole section of the city out of the tourist trade.

The sound of the seventh floor stairwell opening was high and shrill like a woman’s scream. Frowning, I trudged down the hallway, listening to the pat-pat-patter of the leaky ceiling. I found the familiar suite and slipped the key into the lock. The door resisted for a heartbeat then swung open. For a moment I stood there staring into the shadowed, empty room, torn between the instinct to run and the vows I had made. This, like the bickering with the desk clerk, is a ritual for me.

The lights stayed off, I knew the geography here all too well. Closing the door behind me, I crossed the room and sat on the musty bed. It was funny in a way, after almost a decade I still trembled at this moment. For a time I stared into the gloom, watching the darkness churn, then I closed my eyes and replayed visions of broken locks, police tape and dried blood over and over in my mind.

A shudder worked its way up my spine. I could almost imagine her kneeling on the bed behind me, her slender arms wrapping around my back.

“I miss you.” My voice was reverent, uncertain, of all the rituals I observed on this terrible anniversary this was the most important, “I wish I had come back sooner. I wish I had been here. I wish-.”

From out of the darkness her voice is at my ear, “
I know.”

(Recommended Reads) "Zombie Clowns From Space" by Karen Schindler

It started with his foot, as these things often do. Tony awoke to a throbbing beneath the covers that was unlike the normal morning throbbing he had been used to all of his life. Well, had been used to since the age of thirteen anyway. He steeled himself for the worst and flung back the covers. It was just as he suspected. He had the beginnings of clown foot. He rummaged in his bedside drawer to find the official government pamphlet on what to do in the early stages...

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5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Fourteen

Killer unicorns and a pink-colored death ray? The Society of Evil Princesses was at it again.

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Thirteen

She was Abner Deggent's kind of woman all right- no self esteem and incredibly low standards.

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Twelve

The thrill of victory and the high pitched squeal of defeat, these are the sounds of the Mens' Nude Dodgeball League.

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Eleven

Dave hated how computers had taken over the lumber-jacking industry, he was always forgetting to log out.

5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Ten

“If you suspect that phone trees are an insidious plot to break the human spirit please press one...”

PLAID STALLIONS shows us outfits that would have changed your childhood!

Sunday, August 15, 2010

(Recommended Reads) LIFE LESSONS FROM MOM by Kevin Mackey

"Ruth?" Anna Goldberg stood at the bottom of the stairs. "Ruth? Come down here."

"Yeah Mom." Ruth's voice sounded from her room. "What?"

"Come down here. We need to talk. I'll be in the kitchen."

Anna waited, listening to her daughter as she made her way noisily downstairs.

Ruth looked at the diagrams and medical texts on the kitchen table. "Mom! Do we have to do this?"...


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(Recommended Review) CULT MOVIE REVIEWS talks about ISLAND OF LOST SOULS

Island of Lost Souls is a movie I’ve been lusting after for years. Now I’ve finally been able to to see it. And does it live up to my expectations? Oh yes.

With Charles Laughton playing Dr Moreau in an adaptation of H.G. Wells’ The Island of Dr Moreau you really can’t go wrong. And this 1932 production was a Hollywood pre-code movie, and it shows. It’s delightfully perverse...

(Recommended Reads) "THIS BAR IS FULL OF DOUCHEBAGS" by Gary Harmon

Where there’s not pastel polos, there’s button up longsleaves. Collars
popped, egos out and daddy’s money taking care of the tab.

There are three blondes for every brunette and those latter look about
them knowing–or thinking–they came ill-prepared. They shriek like
injured animals as they recognize those of their kind...