Sister, sister, you’re dead now.
known as only ashes buried deep in a cold shallow
grave at the top of a lonely hill…
I saw you burn hotter than the sun, tied to a stake
worse than a dog was ever done.
Sister, your shrieks still fill my ears from
that day, as they continued to pile on the wood to your funeral pyre.
I saw them laugh as the flames rose ever higher and higher.
I could only salt the earth with my tears for I was far too young.
Far too young to save a lighted soul such as yours being wronged.
My own darkened that day,
blacker than a shipbuilder’s pitch.
A witch you never were, but now
a witch I have become,
and tonight I hunt.
Hunt for the many ones,
and oh they will surely see a witch
tonight of the like they
have never seen.
By Philip Wardlow 2016
I knew the moment I spied you
that the devil lived behind those blues.
How long ago did you trap him, for
I see he’s itching to play.
It’s clear from our encounter,
your a girl who can handle her boomstick
when it goes off with a kick.
Your grip on the gun is tight but loose as
silver bullets fill it, along with a gleam.
You smile that smile that I could die for as the
full moon rises, and
the day descends to glorious night.
My hand takes yours as we roam
the dank castle far beneath in the catacombs.
I’ll take the hammer, you take the stake
as we take out a vampire or two on our first date.
When other monster’s wish to interlude upon
our first kiss your casual air and
sadistic flair with an axe
cannot be denied as the crimson droplets fly
in the midnight air….Oh, I think I’m in love!
Let’s not dawdle, let’s not hesitate in our fate.
For we have a rendezvous, me and you, and it involves
Frankenstein and the Wolfman’s heads
on a plate.
by Philip Wardlow
I’m in the dark.
I look at it, as it looks at me.
Silently it sits.
The minutes draw out to what seems hours.
I move left, it moves to follow.
So I stop. It stops.
The sound of heavy breathing, like the bellows of a fire
emit from its mouth. My heart speeds up.
It seems to be waiting for something. But what?
I raise my hand as if to wave. It waves backs.
Oh you fool, it’s just your reflection in the mirror.
Calm your breath, its your own lungs you hear
expelling in your ears, your own movements which
track from across the room distilled from the dim
photons which bounce back to your misguided
“You idiot” I tell myself out aloud.
“Yes, you are” it answers back.
by Philip Wardlow
Ba dump…ba dump…ba ba dump.
down the streets;
orange and angry.
Why do they roll?
Why are they not in bed,
with green leaves as blankets
To cover their orange ripply heads.
I suppose they’re pissed off
for being left behind
in the patch.
What the fuck was wrong
with them, they ask.
It’s Halloween and they’ve
waited long enough.
Knives in hand with
grins carved in,
ready to show
the little tricker-treat bastards
a real killer
So they roll
and they stroll
down the street.
Thought I would update everyone on the progress on my Book I plan on putting out this year as a collection of Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction all in one.
Shooting for a Lucky 13 stories to go into the Book… Hey! Maybe that phrase could be part of the Title of the Book. Nah, it’s probably been over done…I will have to think on it…. 🙂
Check out my progress so far in my writing on the various titles going in the book.
BTW I still need artists for various small sketches to donate an original drawing or artwork based a story or two. Nothing big. just some original stuff would be nice to give it a little pizzazz!
OKAY see below my list of stories either done or in the work. WISH me luck!
Go HERE for Synopsis of some of the stories below:
- The Summoning *
- Witch Hunt *
- Bits and Pieces*
- Flight Through the Forest
- Demon in the Details*
- Time Stopped
- Roadkill (Novella)
- Fire Extinguished
Stories at about 90% Done**
- Power in Me
Stories about 25% Done***
- The Well
- To Take a Life
Stories at intro to 10%
- Alphabet Killer
- Thousand Years
- Year of the Crow
- The Circuit Board
Do you wish to know what lurks and crawls in this brain of mine? Do you wish to know the avenues it takes , the good and the bad, the beautiful, the bloody, the bombastic, and the golden moments that drown? Well welcome I say with a devilish grin wearing my suit of pure white for we are all aspects of all the shades that color the world.
YOU are not exempt. Perhaps in your readings of me and the stories you hear you will see a little into yourself, filtering out all the crap that seems that so often gets in the way of the truth that is you.
So read on, to three of my eclectic samples not quite finished in my future collection of the macabre, to the fun, to the poignant, to the mysterious “what if” of it all… 🙂
I ASK YOU, MY READERS, MY FOLLOWERS, TO PICK ONE OF THE THREE STORIES FOR ME TO FINISH BASED ON THE EXCERPT OF EACH BELOW.
#1 To Take a Life
Sebastian saw the woman sitting in her favorite spot yet again this early Saturday night. Always the same table, the one right at the edge of the dance floor and closest to the bar. She would start the night ordering drink after drink, usually a red wine sometimes a white and just stare ahead seemingly at nothing.
Hours would pass and the club would slowly fill with people and there she would be sitting. Alone. No man had ever approached her to ask her for a dance as she sat. Perhaps they were afraid to approach her, perhaps they thought she wanted to be left alone, perhaps they thought she was out of their league. Perhaps, the word, NO, was already written on her face before they ever would have approached to pose the question in the first place.
Sebastian knew secretly, if they had asked, she probably would have said yes to every one of them. But they never had. So she would sit and watch them all dance from her place at the table. Watch, as the men and women moved on the floor to the seductive beat which pulsed and coursed through the club and bodies wanting to find release from the week’s drudgery called life. Sebastian knew their every whim, their every desire as he always did. They were an open book to him. All you had to do was listen.
This night however he only had ears for the woman who had come here every Saturday night for the last three weeks. Her name was Ms. Evelyn Greer , a pale face contrasted with short shoulder length dark auburn hair, green almond shaped eyes, and full red lips. If she were to ever break a smile he was sure it would have been stunning. A beauty of a woman, majestic in a certain way she held her self. But there was a dullness to her, muted was the word that came to mind, like a dimmer switch to a light turned way down low.
She was to be his tonight. She had marked been many nights ago. She was the one and she had only but to ask him to end her.
#2 From a Dark Place
Joseph carefully placed the five white candles he had just purchased into the big brown suitcase amidst the other items he had already collected. He hands went to close the suitcase but instead they caressed a black leather bound book which lay inside. His eyes went wide and his pupils dilated ever so slightly as he stared at it. He traced the raised symbol on its cover emblazoned in red with his index finger. His finger ran along the entire perimeter of the symbol at all its five points where the continuous line was traced. The symbol was five lines in the form of a star where each point touched the raised circle which surrounded it, what a lovely symbol he mused. Could there be anything more perfect he wondered. A sly smile came to his lips because for all his studies he new the true power of that symbol while others only thought they knew. He had become an adept at the mysteries of it.
“Joseph!” a woman’s voice called to him in a wail from somewhere downstairs in the house.
“Joseph, what the hell are you doing? Spaghettis all done! Christ on a crutch, move your ass!” she yelled again. Joseph could almost picture the spit flying from her mouth as she yelled at him. Fucking fat cow. He would be glad when he was done with her. Joseph couldn’t remember choosing such a bitch of a woman for a wife but he must have, for she lived in his home and occasionally wanted to have sex because of that damn ring on her finger and his own. The weight of the ring seemed to increase more everyday. He wanted to stuff it down her damn throat. It was maddening. No more, no fucking more. Tomorrow, Joseph’s life was about to change.
“Joseph!” she wailed again.
Joseph slammed the suitcase shut, secured the latches and locked them by rotating the combination on each with his thumbs all at once.
“Coming Elizabeth!…..you bitch.” Joseph said the last to himself in a whisper as he tucked the suitcase deep up under his side of the bed and quickly got up to go downstairs for dinner. He would suffer through it with the heifer just for one more night. Spaghetti was his favorite he thought idly to himself.
#3 The Power In Me
Three ping pong balls revolved in midair, each one following the other in a tight circle as they flew.
“I shouldn’t be able to be doing this Carl!” she yelled at the bald little man, sitting across the table from her in the kitchen of her house. Carl was wearing a smug little grin on his face that annoyed the hell out of her. He was always full of himself, today more than usual. He knew something he wasn’t telling her. Shit! She was losing her concentration. One of the balls slipped out of its rotation and fell.
“True and not true,” he replied back glibly to her, as he deftly caught the fallen ball with his left hand inches before it hit the table.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked, her eyes staring ahead at the two remaining balls still rotating in front of her. She thought of a figure eight, and immediately the balls begin to swirl in that configuration. It was equally cool and frightening at the same time, she thought, but Carl didn’t have to know that.
“Angela, you have taken to this extremely well. It seems you are a natural. I have to give our co-workers credit. They were betting you would do well the first time right out the gate. Not many can pull off even one ball this quickly, let alone three. Guess I will have to pay up when I get back to the office.” Carl chuckled to himself, rolling the little white ball he had caught, back and forth between his hands on the dining room table still smiling at her smugly.
Angela took her eyes from the two remaining balls which spun and looked directly at Carl.
“You mean there are others who can do this? Out with it Carl, I’m sick of the games. You’ve been playing them too long, first with my husband now with me. Be straight for once, or for god sakes I’ll shove these balls down your goddamn throat.”
Carl’s smiled slipped a little her under dark stare. Carl involuntarily swallowed when he suddenly realized the balls were still continuing to spin in their figure eight pattern without her looking at them. Damn, she is good, he thought. But she didn’t have to know that; she was arrogant enough as it was. A lot like him more or less, he thought, but still soft.
“Well.” Angela said to him, more of a command than a question.
Carl ignored her tone. “You remember that project three years ago that kept Scott away so many hours at night?”
She remembered all too well, the late nights, and all the arguments that followed, telling her he couldn’t discuss his work with her because she didn’t have the clearance. It still rankled her a little still to this day. Angela only nodded as she looked at him as the balls continued to spin, so Clark continued.
“We had found something amazing. To be more exact it found us. One of the lab geeks directed to synthesize some of the proteins from a plant brought back from Brazil accidentally combined two cultures in the synthesis we were working on with the lot. The other plant was from an older expedition we had done years ago in the Congo in Africa. Scott himself had pulled it from the incubator a few days later. Lot forty-two.”
Angela noticed Carl’s eyes dilating as his hand gestures became more animated as he spoke. This disturbed her for some reason and she didn’t know why.
“Oh, the things Lot Forty-two revealed to us Angela!” Carl found it hard to contain himself as he talked.
“We didn’t know how much until we began the human trials. You did not know this, but Scott your husband, was one of the first volunteers. The committee had been paranoid of it getting out to the general public so everything was done in house; very hush, hush.”
“I am sorry to say this Angela, but he was a fool.” Carl said flatly to her from across the table.
Angela’s eyes suddenly flared from a dull to electric green.
An invisible force compressed against Carl’s chest, to send him flying and to go slamming into the wall behind him. Plaster crumbled around his head and tumbled off his nice black suit coat he wore.
Now I am going to have to go to the dry cleaners tomorrow, Carl thought idly….
Wolf Moon ~
Cold fog seeps
and crawls across
the path I creep.
Winds undulate naked branches,
stirring dead leaves to life
begging at second chances
Darkness shrouds my form
wrapped in a cursed cocoon
that is constantly reborn.
Full moon rises high
resplendent in my soul
A wicked herald courses the sky.
Skin rips, tendons elongate,
Blood drips, fangs germinate
as hair propagates as muscles sip
at the power the moon
spills and instills
A howl escapes…
full and exultant,
primal and free.
It is answered
by a brother, then a sister
fallen under the same spell
of the Wolf Moon.
It’s a call
and we are hungry.
Oh so hungry.
By Philip Wardlow 2015
Her leaving was quite sudden. Her warmth will be missed, but my love that I had known for these many years turned out to be simply a bitch.
Now I sit in this house we once shared…its a big bold hold of a house, with cracks in the walls and crevices in the floor boards that lead to the in between spaces and nowhere.
I would have fixed them all, all those broken pieces left unattended over the years, but now what’s the use. There really is no call to repair something that only brought me to despair.
Never good enough. “A hole in the wall, ” was my only gift to her, she had ever said.
Then they began to come.
Out of all the those holes and cracks they seeped.
The Monsters liked to crawl from where they laid hidden and nip at me when I turned away. They are an annoyance, their pestering, their little pains. I have gotten scratched on many a occasion, a bite mark or two when ever deep asleep or not quite quick enough on my feet at night.
I felt them grinning there in the dark. I couldn’t see them in the cold dead spaces of the room as they hid but I knew there was an upturned lip or a crinkling of the eyes. I felt them there drinking me in.
I tried not to think about them as I drove to work, or as I sat at my desk, or went to the bathroom or ate my lunch in the breakroom. Sometimes, I even thought one or two had hidden in the trunk of my car and came to work with me. For I felt their presence always….
Its was oppressive.
It hadn’t always been like this. Once I had been free. No monster nipped, scratched or bit. For they didn’t exist in my home. Back then, there were no shadows to hide them. No cold spaces to give them comfort.
I am not sure how they found me. For I sure as hell didn’t let them in. I never asked them to come into my home. I hate them. All of them and they hate me.
There are so many, skinny ones, fat ones, ugly ones, ugly skinny ones, ugly fat ones, foul smelly ones, red eyed, green eyed, black eyed, no-eyed even. So, so many.
I keep them back. Even though there are many, they are not very brave, not at all. They may grin from the dark but they cower. They are afraid of me in some small way. I have yet to figure out why.
I know they don’t like my boot when I give one or two of them a good kick. Oh no, they don’t like the boot, not at all. Then I grin back at them and I sense them cowering more.
They are weak little Monsters and I have my big black steel toed boots to keep them at bay. I wear them all the time even in bed. Not in the shower though. That would be silly. I lock the bathroom door tight, remove my boots in a flourish, still laced but loose, enough to slip back on in a flash.
Naked, I jump in the shower, scrub scrub scrub, then out in a moment between a heartbeat of their indecision to possibly break down the door. I scramble for my towel, dry off and put on my clothes for the next day, slip into my boots and crawl into bed.
They are not as clever as me. Not by far you see.
Until I wake up and find my legs secured, and tied tightly to the bed .
Hmmm…my arms won’t move… they seem to be tied at my sides as well. I am all snug, snug, snug
They all are there, perched on my footboard. Waiting for me to wake up this whole time. They just stare at me, colored eyes shining and no eyes and lifeless and all.
Why do they wait?
Why don’t they rent, why don’t they tear and rip and claw?
A taloned appendage slips off my boots and with a clunk they both hit the bedroom floor.
Then the grins began. This time I can see them. Some toothless, or black and decayed as death,
some mouths with lolling tongues licking lips which drip, milk white saliva which issue a delicate hiss
upon my sheets.
They creep as one …like a low rolling wave they come. Up my body, over my feet, calves and knees…blood seeps, staining the white bed red.
Thighs are on fire as they continue to eat and eat…
All I can do is look on…pain, oh the overwhelming pain, drowns me as the wave of teeth and claws and malice munches me, a wide awake nightmare…of my Monsters finally taking their due.
Darkness falls complete as my eyes are plucked and eaten…how is it that I still live?
My mad mind is all that remains intact.
Until they reach my brains for their final snack.
My mind settles….then drifts…the pain is gone and I meander in a pool of blood red mist…
Images come, blurred and dim, a focus , a purpose coalesces ….
A man sleeps before me angry and mean, fear filled and hopeless as I sit looking through a lit crack into his room and give him a little grin.
by Philip Wardlow 2015