Rene Descartes Does Not Exist By A.R. LaBaere

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Rene Descartes Does Not Exist peals with the undercurrent of plangent chimes in a forgotten gloaming... There persists a revelation which cannot be defined, but which is captured by the crude eyes of certain dolls.

Rene Descartes Does Not Exist By A.R. LaBaere

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Rene Descartes Does Not Exist peals with the undercurrent of plangent chimes in a forgotten gloaming... There persists a revelation which cannot be defined, but which is captured by the crude eyes of certain dolls.

For Rhys Hughes

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Seeking refuge from the interminable hum of profitless commerce that, like some ominous massing of spectral insects, penetrated every corner of the depraved and decayed town, Grinderman found himself trudging along the path that led through the forest - somewhat thoughtlessly, as if his feet...

by Ambrose Bierce

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Christmas, you tell me, comes but once a year. One place it never comes, and that is here. Here, in these pages no good wishes spring, No well-worn greetings tediously ring-- For Christmas greetings are like pots of ore: The hollower they are they ring the more. Here...

by Ambrose Bierce

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"In this end-of-year essay, Ambrose Bierce, author of The Devil's Dictionary (also called The Cynic's Word Book), looks at the holiday season through a dark, satirical lens." --About.com

Written by Quentin S. Crisp

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(Dedicated to Julie W.)


“My strength is withered, Vishnu, and my peace.”

The Bhagavad Gita

“I have gone to join Ken if I am that lucky.”

Kevin Carter

BY JENS PETER JACOBSEN (1847-1885)

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Old Bergamo lay on the summit of a low mountain, hedged in by walls and gates, and New Bergamo lay at the foot of the mountain, exposed to all winds. One day the plague broke out in the new town and spread at a terrific speed; a multitude of people died and the others fled across the...

L.P. Van Ness

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In high summer, after a season of weird composition and the contemplation of vast, interstellar horrors, Lovecraft sought out the soothing and familiar architecture of Providence. It calmed his nervous disposition and the gnawing gestations of an ill-fated heredity. At the apex of...

by Michael Aronovitz

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Chapter One (Preview)

L.P. Van Ness

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- Dedicated to Bob Bloch Most lives terminate in a tomb. Sekhmet’s began there. “You are from the Census then? After all, that is why I let you in. You’ve driven out to see me in well over a foot of January snow. Odd. Very odd. You’re just one step ahead of the taxman this...

L.P. Van Ness

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Stepping lightly from the looking glass, Alice did not return alone. Does something else speak through her or are her words her own? December’s double moon prophesized the demise of not only the year but a decade, resolving itself in a duplicitous image of inverted correspondences,...

L.P. Van Ness

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Halloween’s withered pumpkin became Thanksgiving pie with the linear procession of lichen thoughts swelling between the masonry of time and resolving itself in the Feast of Numbered Days; for despite the warmth of sunrise, the guling tombstone remained ice cold to the touch. A singular chut...

L.P. Van Ness

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The cobble was slick with rain, but Johnny managed to elbow his way through the excited crowd. Voluminous in atmosphere, he eyed the prize closely: covers, spine, thread, pages and words. It was a book much like others before it but for the happenstance that it had fallen from out-of-the-blue....

L.P. Van Ness

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Beyond the parking lot of the factory, there was a treeless field covered with grass, what is called a Prairie in the Midwest. Surrounded by mundane blacktop streets and brick bungalows, this wild patch of land became an oasis of the Imagination for a young boy, a foreboding jungle, where...

L.P. Van Ness

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While visiting the haunted house, one of the teenage ghouls stumbled forward from the shadows and inadvertently knocked off Mother’s wig. It was easily reappointed. Unfortunately, seven year old Chance thought it was her head that had been severed, so he screamed and ran blindly back outside...

Joseph S. Pulver, Sr.

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It's only 700 words. . .

First published 2009 at TLO

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A short short.

W. Hopfrogius Pugnacious, Esq.

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an attempt to be Lovecraftian, inspir'd by the Robert Bloch teleplay for "The Grim Reaper" episode of THRILLER.

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(written in 1994, published in 2002, translated from the Dutch by the author) Man in shopping trolley. Why should that particular image be flailing again before my mind's eye... A child in a shopping trolley is sufficiently well-known – in front, little hands on the bar between...

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CONTENT REMOVED BY REQUEST OF THE AUTHOR