Horror tales to be posted every weekend -- for Monday viewing... unless a different date is noted... perhaps.

Monday, September 14, 2015


The end is here,
dear reader...
Of my COUNTDOWN TO HORROR ZERO anthology experiment!

Three years and Seventy posted horror tales later...
Presenting the final Horror Zero tale:


I hope you have enjoyed my unique brand of horror tales.
In this format, I decided to stay away from horror gore and hard sexuality.
This final tale needed to explore sex, just a little bit.
But The Countdown To Horror Zero is now finished.

But, I am not going anywhere.
In fact,
Now I will turn my attention to my lifelong horror obsession.
That project is the continuation of my horror short story series... The Horrorwalker Travel Guide.

And, there is so much more horror stuff I am working on... every waking hour of every day.

Enjoy this last horror tale in this horror blog.

I hope to soon compile these tales into a paper book form and tour with it.
I will let you know my intentions, soon.

Take care of yourselves out there in the slippery dark world of horror fiction.
I will still see you every day in my other horror blogs.

Take care and thanks for three years of reading the horror I have written in this blog.
Thank you very much.

Ronald Lee Jones


(Season 5, Episode 0)


(Fayetteville, N.C.)


My name is Mark Lee Jones. And, do I have a tale of the absurd for you to contemplate. I am making daily recordings all this madness into my diary/journal. It begins with...

...The paperwork for the transfer of the title of this house I now own was all completed weeks before I moved in on that 5th of January. My uncle Julius left his house, and the six acres of land it sits on, to me. I had met my father’s brother several times... decades ago, when I was a young kid. I clearly remember my father taking me to visit my uncle at this house several times all those years ago. I wish I had gotten to know my uncle better before he recently died of complications from what we were all told was a heart attack while he was convalescing in St. Mary’s Hospital for a deadly bout with the flu.

He was 96 years old!

I remember being allowed to play in the huge back yard flower garden during the few visits to this house back when I was a child. And I also remember approaching the tiny house sized shed just a ways from the back of the main house, attempting to open the rather large locked door with the strange words and stranger symbols carved into the black wood... and trying to peek into the heavily shaded windows... before finally deciding that chasing dragonflies among the flowers was much more interesting than some dumb old outhouse.

The thought of just who was maintaining all of these beautiful flowers and fruit trees, and the awesome landscaping, never crossed my mind.

My uncle Julius never married. He lived alone in this house and was very strict about entertaining visitors. Apparently, my dad was one of only a select few people he allowed on the grounds of his property. I did feel special, the fact that I got to visit him with my father. I felt very special, especially when my uncle would put his arms around me and whisper to me that one day I was going to meet someone very special. I always thought he was doing what most elder family members do to their younger relatives... project their desire to see us married off and having children.

And so, I did have some very good memories of uncle Julius. And as time passed until the present time, now we are all having to deal with the reality of death and property.

The family heads soon learned that uncle Julius left strict instructions with his lawyers that in case he ever died, for any reason, the front property gate was to be locked shut and his will was to be read within a one week period of time.

I did not take part in any of the legal workings of his funeral and his property finalizations. All that stuff was dealt with by the older relatives. I simply did what I was told to do, which was to hang back and make sure I show up for all the proceedings.

I must digress again, for a moment...

Dad raised me, for nine years, as a single father devoted to doing everything he could to make sure I started on a good path of life. He never talked much about my mother and how she died... I have always supposed that her death giving birth to me was simply too much for him to remember, other that a few times that he told me that she loved me very much.

We had each other, so the fact that I was an only child never really bothered me all that much. Dad kept plenty of books in the house and was always on the hunt for things for me to do. When he died, I went to stay with his older sister, Aunt Millie... and I have to admit, I had a blast living in her house with her and Uncle Max and their three older-than-me children. We all had some excellent times together... in home and at school and in the neighborhood.

So, I was the last kid in the house to graduated from high school. I graduated in the top percentile  of my class and went on to finish five years at North Carolina State University... to become a lifelong member of the Wolf Pack... five years of college, to earn a Masters degree in Education. I was fielding offers for jobs... for teaching jobs... across the state before I graduated.

Everybody in the immediate family was happy with my accomplishments. And then, only a week later, uncle Julius passes on.

Those were sad days for his brothers and sisters... but, there was an air of mystery over the funeral because of uncle Julius’ lifetime of secrecy. And so, immediately after the funeral ended, all of the adult family members were summoned to uncle Julius’ attorney’s office in Raleigh for the surprise reading of his will.

And as it turns out, really not too much of a surprise, Uncle Julius was loaded. His will stipulated that a large portion of the money he possessed would be equally distributed to his siblings. Other money and property matters were attended to... eventually coming ending in what to do with his huge house, and the land it sat upon, over by the university.

We were all shocked when the lawyer read the instructions left by Uncle Julius... his order for the home to be turned over to me... taxes paid up for the next twenty years. And, the Will stated, only I was to enter the house first... and that I was to spend one month in the home alone... and after I made my assessments, I could do whatever I wished to do with everything. But, I had to live ALONE in the house for a month.

And so, that was that!

So, I took the responsibility in stride. I moved all of my possessions from my apartment into the huge house. Over the course of three weekends, I moved all of my stuff by myself. I decided to go along with my uncles wishes in full force. He obviously liked me and wanted me to experience what he experienced in owning this house. But, to be sure, I had no intention of being a recluse.

I did everything I needed to do without missing one day of work time. And when I finally moved the last of my belongs into the six bedroom house, I was swiftly overcome by a feeling of peace and calm.

The next few days were spent exploring the house and its contents. Every room was furnished with up to date furniture. Every room was very clean and dust free. The pantry was filled with canned goods and the refrigerator was empty, and very clean, as I supposed it would be. The five bathrooms were all roomy, well stocked with toiletries  and the leak free faucets were perfect. I was having the time of my life exploring the house from the attic, with all of the great antiques up there, to the monstrous cave-like basement filled with all kinds of collectors stuff... including boxes of sorted and preserved very early comic books, early baseball trading cards in boxes and sleeves, all kinds of pristine toys and posters, art work, clean automotive parts, several very early pristinely preserved Indian Motocycles and so much more stuff to be sorted and cataloged.

The 6 vehicles in the garage on the side of the house is another matter entirely. I’m not a car guy, so I’ll look into them later.

Obviously, Uncle Julius knew these treasures were down in the basement, and up in the attic. Did he actually want me to have these items? Why was he so generous to me? Did my dad convince him that I would be a responsible caretaker of his items? I was slowly beginning to feel some heavy responsibility weighting down on my shoulders.

And then, on day 20 of going to work six days a week and living inside my Uncle’s home, I discovered the plain white envelope in the kitchen cabinet over the top of the pantry double doors. Written on the front of the letter size envelope was “Inside this envelope is the key to the shed out back behind the house. Enter through the door only when you are of clear mind. There begins the rest of your life. Your uncle, Julius.”

Well, OK then...


I held onto the envelope with the key inside of it for a week. The more I thought about the simple message on the envelope the more my mind made the words more ominous. Even though the shed out back behind the house belonged to me now, I was straight apprehensive about opening that door.

Oh, in the course of that week, I probably walked up to that door around ten times and stared at it for many long minutes. I placed both of my ears to that door several times only to hear silence, like I really expected to hear any sound at all. But, not knowing what was inside anyway, perhaps a sound was on the other side of the door that was muted by the thick wood. And as usual, the windows were so well tinted that I wasted moments trying to peer through the silvery surface.

And so, finally on the next Saturday night, after the sun had gone down and I was bored with what was on the TV, I grabbed the envelope off the kitchen counter, extracted the simple looking key and walked out the back door to confront my date with... destiny.

I took in a deep breath, of why I was filled with such angst and all I could not tell you, and by the light of the flood lights on both of the roof corners of the shed, I slid the key into the key slot. The lock turned with ease and the door silently opened on its well oiled hinges with as much ease. I took one step into the pitch darkness inside the room and I was inside. To the immediate right of me was a light switch... of which I reached over and flicked the switch up to turn in the interior lights to the shed.

What I saw inside took my mind and my body to a place I am still not prepared to exist from inside of, but I am there... and here... and I have to phase into a next chapter in a strange way to tell that part of my tale.


She was sitting in the chair beside the large table over by the kitchen nook area of the shed. Where she sat positioned her so that she could look directly at the door from which I had just entered. I was shocked to see this beautiful vision of a woman inside this room. I really expected the shed to be empty... or, to be filled with more of my uncle’s antique stuff.

I was instantly transfixed by her stare. The details of the interior of the shed did not matter to me because I was focused on her eyes. The bed, the book shelves, the candles, the television, and how everything was placed in the room did not matter to me. The only thing that mattered was the magnetic attraction that I had to her.

She stood up and raised her right hand to me. Her fingers were extended toward me, inviting me to her, silently calling me to her. I walked straight to within a couple of feet from her. And she did to me, what I later learned, what she had to do to me in order to make sure I was the one who was actually suppose to be there with her.

She touched my left temple with her right hand... and then I was suddenly in a other world nightmare.

I could not move. I could only watch, in a dream-like state of confusion, as this woman stripped me of my clothing. Within moments, I was standing there in the complete nude. My glazed over eyes followed her movements around my body, even though I could not move my head. I did not know why she was touching me here and there while lightly humming an intoxicating song that appeared to aid in her control of me.

Next thing I know, she has led me over to the bed on the other side of the room. She appeared to effortlessly lift me with her hands and place me gently onto the white quilt on the bed... on my back... head to the pillows. She then removed her wispy cottony white dress. I already knew she was nude underneath. And then she literally climbed onto me and took me sexually... that is the only way I can describe it. How she commanded me into an erection, in the state of fog she placed me into, was a mystery horror then, and still a mystery now.

The ecstacy was exquisite! Whatever her movements were, blended with her song, took me to a place of mind and body impossible for a human to go to without her taking me there. And even when she transformed her shape into something monstrous and alien, still gyrating on top of me while I was still inside of her, the horror of being ridden by... I cannot describe what I witnessed... her true self, a being that could only have been created by gods gone mad, I was still engulfed in her sex.

There was no panic in me. I still felt as though I was being loved by the woman I saw when I first entered the shed. And as she looked into my eyes with her six eyes, we orgasmed together... hard, long, painful, and soul melding... I put the essence of my soul inside of her and she did the same to me. And as we both came down to earth, within minutes later, she slowly morphed back into the lovely human vision I first saw when I entered the room.

She then climbed off of me and allowed me to move again. She walked over to her dress, slowly put it back on her beautiful body and then sat back down at the table and stared at me with a look in her eyes that told me I was accepted by her.

I, on the other hand, slowly slid off the bed and walked over to near where she was seated and began to put on my clothing. I did examine myself down there before I put on my boxers because we had created a lot of friction and sweat and other body fluids on that bed... and I felt nothing wet of sticky down there in my pubic area. I looked down and there was no evidence of our sexual encounter at all. There should have at least been semen all over my penis, but I was dry there. I simply shook off the questions inside my mind and continued to dress myself. And as I finished tying the last shoelace, I looked at her... and something in her demeanor and her eyes told me that it was time for me to leave, for tonight.


So now, weeks later after out first meeting, every time I cross over the threshold of the thick solid Oak door to the shed behind my house, I enter into a surreal living space that houses energy that is never touched by time. That energy is in the form of a woman so gorgeous she is nearly blinding in her physical beauty. And, as it turns out, she is actually something fantastical that the ancient gods of a time long past... from a land, perhaps, long lost... have abandoned to remain earthbound and subjected to dangers she never would have feared in those ancient times.

Her powers are in full effect... with a caveat, or two! She is still an immortal being, quite possibly, from the times of Ulysses’ famous treks. She appears to be a stunning, clear skinned, tan skinned, raven haired twenty-something year old woman of Mediterranean descent. She has told me that bacteria, viruses and parasites do not affect her. But, she is no longer invulnerable to severe physical attacks. She discovered, a few centuries ago, that she can be harmed... quite possibly killed... by extreme physical force, so she must be protected from modern traumas. And fire is feared by her because her skin burns like that of a normal human.

I’ll never let that happen!

In inheriting the property we are both standing in, I have inherited the vocation of being her sole protector... like my uncle was. I did not volunteer for this duty that takes up all of my free time, but here I am writing in my diary some of the serious points to being the keeper of secrets that could change the world, if I were to make a mistake and blabber about what lives in the shed behind my house.


Her name is Aglaope. She tells me, as far as she knows, she could be a thousands year old immortal creature of times she cannot remember anymore, even in her deepest dreams. The one thing about her physical body that is the most amazing to me is the fact that she never ages. How does that work? She has showed me the photos from as far back as the 19th century capturing the image of the same beautiful woman in my life today... looking just like she looked back then.

In reality, she is a creature in possession of the ability to change her form from what she presents to me on the usual basis... to a representation of what her true form obviously is. She has revealed her true self to me only the one time, soon after we first met. She says I needed to be convinced that she is what she says she is... and that image still occasionally haunts my nightmares.

She can change her form into other creatures, both mythical and real, but she prefers to remain the lovely vision I have really fallen in love with. Amazingly, she is now a creature of good... although, she remembers, she was not necessarily a benevolent being in the days when she was one of three evil ocean bound sisters who were charged with the powers to create deadly mayhem... and facilitate the deaths of many men in ships at sea.

That memory is actually strong in her mind.

That was then, she says, and today is today... a time when she laments her past evils. She has stated to me that the Gods of that time were real son’s of bitches who enjoyed tormenting their human subjects. Obviously, she was created as one of three daughters of destruction who were acting out the sick fantasies of one particular god... or, perhaps, several gods who had too much free time on their hands.

Regardless of all that hyperbole, she is now a gentle being who realizes there is not one reason for her to act out her original duties.

And she has accepted me as her next... companion, to call it what it really is.


When I visit the beautiful vision inside my shed behind my house, Aglaope reminds me that there are things about her nature that she cannot hide from me... or herself. One of those things is her raw sexuality. When I enter into the large living space inside the shed, she overpowers me with the ancient powers of her voice and her mind. To hear her speak is to hear the vocalizations of a perfect pitch,  goddess-like voice that easily, when ramped up to the ultimate extension of her ability, can absolutely wash out the free thoughts a man has in his mind and draw him to her like a moth to its death in an open flame. I know her power because I feel her power, even if she is not trying to make me her... mind slave.

Her voice cuts through me like a hot knife through warm butter... and I LOVE the feeling! I would kill for her when she sings to me.

She could murder me where I stand with but a flick of one hand. Her physical strength and powers are awesome. But, she allows me to feel her gentle hands upon my skin and I love how she makes me feel.

Her thick hair on her head naturally smells like lilacs in mid-spring as I run my fingers through it. Her piercing hazel colored eyes look directly inside my soul. Her perfect lips invite a kiss from me every time she whispers a word. Her neck invites kisses, her busty chest invites my hands to caress her there. Her flat stomach, her toned legs and her beautiful feet all invite me to desire her more. And her lightly browned skin is the perfect finishing touch to her perfection.

I do not care if she is altering herself into the image that she senses I desire the most.

She does not eat. She never drinks liquid. She is a self-contained entity who simply is... alive. The fact that her temperature is constantly a perfect 98.4 degrees proves even more that there are forces inside her that are beyond man’s comprehension.

And then there is the... raw goddess-like sex! I cannot resist her sexual advances.


It is like her sexuality is a driving force from deep inside the cells of her body. To be a man in her line of sight is to be an arrow shot straight into the center mark of her target. She was created to draw men to her... to their deaths. Now that she does not kill men with her sexual attraction, the logical conclusion is... men are still drawn to her like dead walking zombies, and she cannot turn off that power. She can control its intensity to a degree, but all men want her when they see her. She has told me many tales of horror about how she has had to deal with men, or groups of men, who have become obsessed to death with her... and the seekers of revenge from other men, and women, who have hunted her down like a mongrel dog that has bitten a child because of what men have done to other people in order to be with her.

She has learned over a lot of time that she MUST hide away from men. Everybody is in danger of going mad when she places herself in public circumstances. And all of that craziness is the reason she lives in this shed out behind my house.

She has sex with me, and so I am with her and of her. I have not experienced the psychotic withdrawal from her absence because we are sexually active and as long as that occurs I will not fall to the obsession from her powers.  Men who have not had sex with her go insane over time because they cannot have her. It is all as simple as that. And, she tells me that she does not desire to have sex with every man she meets!

As other things have turned out, I have learned that I am the fifth caretaker of her gifts. I have learned this information by reading through Uncle Julius’s papers... and by the sweet voice of Aglaope. I have also learned that my father was supposed to take his ten years older brother’s place as the caretaker of this house... until they learned of my father’s own illness. It was only logical that the two brothers concocted this plan for the rest of my life.

And so, I am now the 32 year old lover and the protector of a human-like creature who just might be a powerful daughter of ancient gods. I am the owner of this huge gated property that is filled to the brim with secrets after secrets... including hoards of modern money and a treasure grove of  ancient gold ingots hidden throughout the house. There, along with all the stuff in the attic and the basement, is found some of the reasons why my uncle never lacked for money.

I still have yet to explore the “other” bank account information he has left for me to take care of. There is a lot of money in about 8 separate bank accounts.

And as for my new life as the caretaker, or hopefully friend with the ultimate benefit, of the feminine impossible... well, there she is right there in the shed behind the house. I have only spent a few months of my life with her as of now. It is obvious to me that I have a lot to learn about our relationship. Basically, I talk to her, spend quality time with her, purchase her books and music and video entertainment, listen to her educate me about the long and harrowing life she has lead... and simply enjoy her.

How am I going to feel about this relationship one year from today?

Obviously, Uncle Julius took care of her for a very long time... until he died. And obviously, she outlived him... and so, will outlive me. We have yet to talk about their decades of history with him, but that conversation is soon to come. I have to know what is in store for me over the long haul... and I have to tell her of my intentions to NOT be a recluse like my uncle.

But for now, the sun just went down about thirty minutes ago. After another long Friday at work, I’ve showered and ate a sandwich. I needed to write down some thoughts in my journal, and I will put away it away, go to my siren in the shed behind the house and spend a few hours with her.

It is obvious to both of us that I can only be in her presence for a couple of hours at a time before I become delirious from her powers. One day soo, she says, I will be adjusted to her enough that I can stay with her as long as I want to.

OK... alright...

I am soon to ask her if, in fact, she is manipulating me into believing I am what I believe I am to her... or do I have free thought and am I really going to protect her for the rest of my life because I actually want to. Or, is she forcing me to me her... mind slave.

I think all that thought will be for another night. I have a weekend to spend in her presence that is both magical, and at times terrifying... and that weekend begins right now. Tomorrow, I will write another chapter about this bizarre relationship that obviously will go on until the day I die. But like I said before, we need to talk about the rules of this relationship... if there are any.

So, here I go to visit the siren in the shed behind the house. I’ve got the books she asked for and the DVD she said she wants us to watch... just like this is a normal date.

Not normal!


And who takes care of the beautiful garden in the back of the house?

Monday, August 10, 2015


The end is near, dear reader... of my Countdown anthology experiment!
After today,
I have one more horror tale to present to you in this particular Horrorwalker world!
The Countdown To Horror Zero finishes in two weeks from today,
And the sadness felt by this writer is palpable and profound.
So, in two weeks, the final story for this horror show will be released.
That tale is: HORROR ZERO.
That horror will be in your life very soon.
And so, for right now, just concentrate on this next to last horror tale titled...
Where Is God In All This Mess



Life, and death, is not pretty inside the Horrorwalker World.
Horrifically touchy subjects must be breached in order to gain any semblance of horror perspective.
This short story/poem reaches deep down into the blackest blackness in the Horrorwalker World.

This man has very recently been visited by the mysterious Horrorwalker creature.
His encounter has left him so profoundly changed that he has decided to take his life into his own hands.
This is serious shit,
When the Horrorwalker breached the security of of the walls of his home,
And forced him to read about things he never wanted to know about.

Someone else out there needs to contemplate these frightening caveats.
It all begins with this introduction...

...Marven Lexie Maxwell has had enough of the bullshit of life.
At 57 years old, he has lived a long and hard existence...
Filled with crushed dreams, the burden and guilt inflicted upon him by religion,
The horrific damage to his psyche by politics and the depression of rare animals murdered for sport.
He still cannot forgive his mother for first introducing him to the ills of Pentecostalism.
And he has accepted the fact that he has come to the end of his personal life story.

The anchor rope hanging from the high beam of his living room has a noose on the end of it.
That noose is tight and snug around his neck.
The wooden chair he stands upon is already ready to tip over.
The suicide note,
Which in reality is the horror tale he was forced to read from the Horrorwalker's tome,
Is right there on the coffee table, in plain sight.
The note is addressed to the main entity he blames for his world's current predicament...
With a sarcastic shout-out to all those who believe...
And it is titled... Where Is God In All This Mess?


(Season 5, Episode 1)

- in the long form-

(Arlington, Virginia)

If your god truly exists, then --
Where is your God in all this mess?
Why would your God allow all of this world hysteria to ferment daily?
Why is your God openly allowing the self-genocide of the human race?
Does your God not realize that man is teetering on the brink of self-extinction?

If your God truly exists, then --
Where is your God when man consumes man?
Where is your God when man consumes woman?
Where is your God when man consumes children?
Where is your God to smite down dirty, rotten, human beings?

If your God truly exists, then --
How can your God allow man’s continual rape of this planet?
How can your God allow the depilatory removal of earth’s trees?
How can your God not show creator’s pride and stop the madness?
How can your God not just hurl this colossal failure into the sun?

If your God truly exists, then --
Why has your God not corrected this human mistake?
Why has your God not just wiped the planetary slate clean?
Why has your God not just eradicated the human virus?
Why has your God allowed the madness to continue?

If your God truly exists, then --
Why allow strapped-on bomb, suicide murderers to exist?
Why allow the blasphemous sin of explosive carnage in God’s name?
Why allow barbaric beheading, stoning, and cowardly kidnapping in God’s name?
Why allow devil spawned evil to disguise itself as God’s work?

If god truly exists, then --
Why would your God allow women to suffer by man’s hands?
Why would your God allow the appalling deaths of so many innocents?
Why would your God allow dangerous, egocentric untrustworthy men their power?
Why would your God allow such men to destroy parts of this planet?

If your God truly exists, then --
Is your God actually a monster like the human monsters ruling this planet?
Is your God actually a schizophrenic psychopath like these humans in charge?
Is your God actually an immoral, greedy, power hungry immortal bastard?
Is your God actually enjoying the show in this absurd ant farm experiment?

If your God truly exists, then --
Why would a being who supposedly is all knowing allow religious dogma to supersede logic?
Why would a being powerful enough to create billions of universes allow the human mind free thought?
Why allow man to imagine he sees God, and talks to God, and to record that delusion into a... bible?
And why allow mankind the latitude to use such insane fantasy fiction to destroy man and earth alike?

If your God truly exists, then --
Enjoy this twisted carnival mistral show while you can, God.
Without some kind of swift, and soon to come, God-like intervention…
You are sure to soon receive a planet sized pie in the face, God, when planet earth…
Your greatest creation… is destroyed by your greatest failure -- Modern Stone Age Mankind!

If your God truly exists, then --
Is it ashamed that another of its ultimate creations is about to extinguish its own life?
And what does it think about the fact that I no longer believe it exists?
I am so confident that there is no God that I am willing to destroy my soul right now.
Paradise still does not exist, and so I ask again... Where Is God In All This Mess?

If your God truly exists, then --
How can I explain the existence of a creature like the Horrorwalker as you invoke imaginary God?
How can I explain the potent energy in an entity so powerful and awesome that it can defy space, time, logic and religion?
How can I continue to believe God exists when that tangible creature crumbled my perspectives by its very presence?
Goodbye, cruel world... I have been touched by dark horror reality and I no longer want any part of man made psychopathy!


Monday, July 27, 2015


The old timey walkman-like cassette recorder is on and recording.
There will be no video because...
Wladimir Drugov deflects light making him invisible on video.
He has bound himself to a large appliance and he is awaiting his ultimate fate.
This scenario is likened to a scene out of a frightful horror movie.
And there on the table... as the morning darkness wanes... in full display,
The essence of this moment is boiled down...
To The Last Quarter Tablespoon Full!


(Season 5, Episode 2)

(Seattle, Washington)

I have grown weary of the killing and the terror and the horror.
I have been a blight on mankind for two centuries... never the restorer.
I should have used my curse for good and been a great immortal explorer.
I could have been something better than a feral bloodletting corn borer. 

I have killed and drank the blood of Native Americans before their genocide extermination.
I have fed off the dead and wounded during America's violent civil war times examinations.
I have stalked women in their log cabin and killed them in their modern home.
I have been living my dark bloody nightmare for so long that I have lost my desire to roam.

I settled here in Seattle 63 years ago when a creature like me could easily hide in the gloom.
But something happened out here and the gloom brightened as the city began to actually bloom.
More people are out here now making it much more difficult for me to hide and feed.
And now I have concluded that I have survived long enough... there is just no more need.

I've killed my final person for food and the last of his blood is in the tablespoon on the kitchen table.
My mind is degrading into madness and I can no longer fathom murdering for blood... I'm not stable.
 The Protracted loneliness and the isolation has finally reached the core of my lifeless soul.
 I am now now so black and dead inside that my very essence would fit in a small bowl.

I have chained myself, with 100% silver links, to the heavy refrigerator in my kitchen lair.
I even found a silver coated padlock to connect the two ends to tighten my snare.
I have decided to destroy myself by sunlight immolation when the sun rises in a few minutes...
When the burning light streams through the kitchen bay window to fry me down to my spirits.

And there on the table, calling me like an orchid calls a wasp, is the spoon of fate and temptation.
What it holds in its curvature is the cause of all the pain and my seemingly eternal damnation.
There it is, the remnants of the last quarter tablespoon full of blood to touch my watering lips...
The final temptation I must suffer through for penance as death, my soul, it rips!

I never got my revenge on the dirty feral bitch who first turned me into a horrid vampire tale.
I chased her trail from Germany to the Americas and I never caught but a hint of her trail.
It doesn't matter anyway... what was I going to do if I ever caught up to her?
She turned me, so her power over me might make me no more than a stepped on sand burr.

Ah, the sun rises right now... the first rays of light are streaming against the wall opposite of me.
To whomever concerned, when you hear these words on this cassette recording... fear what you see.
I am not the only one of me walking the mean pathways of American streets.
And the pile of 200 year old dust on the floor in front of the refrigerator... is me burned down to my feet!

Scatter my dust to the wind over dry land and let my molecules fly free.
I never want to come back, so make sure I am scattered wide and far and away from a tree.
And make sure you take that spoon on the table and wash it well!
Better to erase the last vestige of my existence... there is no more to tell!


Monday, July 13, 2015


Regina Marlowe needed to get revenge on Sally Peterson.
 Regina wanted Sally to suffer the way Ally suffered at Sally's hands...
Before Ally hanged herself from suffering the relentless bullying.
Regina found her tool of  revenge deep in the dirtiest artery in the heart of downtown.
She was told the price was steep...
So steep that it might cost her her own life.
Regina agreed to pay the price,
For what did she have to live for without the friendship of sweet, 
Harmless Ally?

With a little bit of nervous spit gulping,
Regina asked the dark figure standing before her...
Is there a payment plan?

The frightful belly laughter from the dark figure told Regina that there was indeed,
The option of,
The Payment Plan!


(Season 5, Episode 3)

(Tucson, Arizona)

I know you regret the deal...
It does not matter how many times you complain to me about it!

I know you didn’t want it to turn out like this. 
But as of right now, 
And in the near and distant future, 
You will think twice before you ask another dark favor… 
From the likes of me. 

Next time around…
Well, I doubt for you there will be a next time…
But, for the sake of the argument,
You might better want to make sure all the T’s are crossed in your contract.

As you now have found out…
You really might not like what I demanded as payment! 
Now wipe off all that blood from off your neck!

And go back to your cage!

Secure the padlock yourself…
Do it right!

And, when you’re all secure,
I will… 
See you again tomorrow night.

What did you think I meant when I told you I demanded my payment in…


Monday, June 29, 2015


Allen Simms is doing hard time for a charge a teenager should receive a slap on the wrist for.
He is a tortured soul, right now.
He has recently been touched by the supernatural... right there in his jail cell.
That touch of the surreal sent him into a deja vu reality loop.
And... that touch has given his sanity a bit of hope of survival.
But right now his beautiful green grass is turning into... Brown Grass!


(Season 5, Episode 4)


(Ozona, Texas)

The dream is always the same... like deja vu all over again. The details are familiar, but the facts are different... like someone has already lived what I am dreaming. What am I suppose to do about my predicament? Go with it, is all I can figure... but, I'm ready to get to the end of this nightmare.

At night... in the darkness of my cramped jail cell... after sleep overtakes my conscience mind... I find myself standing outside in a wide expanse of open field. The knee high grass is very green and waving lazily in synchronization to the gentle breeze rolling over, and cooling, everything it brushes.
I could openly hear the talkative birds hidden in the grass cawing happily, confident in their anonymity. I believe they are Ravens, but since it is actually mid-evening, and they usually give their familiar call earlier in the day, I must offer a guess as to their actual identities.
But, I believe they are randy Ravens.

I see no living trees trying to touch the skies in this surrealistic, but seemingly idyllic, dreamlike landscape. There is only big blue sky meeting a land ocean of rolling hills covered in wavy bright green grass dancing in the open space dream space. The scene is calming - intoxicatingly calm, actually.

      And again, I've seen all this before!

Suddenly, the grass around my knees parts open, retreating onto itself to present to me a circular open space surrounding me about the size of a few football fields. The soft green carpet invites me to walk on it by undulating in a three foot wide path straight ahead. The blades of grass now barely reach above my ankles. I turn in a complete circle to view the awesome all before me. I am stunned. What is actually happening here? And, just where am I? Also, what is that form that just appeared low to the grass on the opposite side of the clearing? Something… I can’t … quite… make out. Is that a person?

      This is all so... familiar.

I slowly begin to approach the form. Within seconds I realize I am walking toward a woman. And suddenly, I am filled with the urge to run toward the woman, who by now has risen from a sitting position to standing upright and looking at me. The grass will not allow rushing. It grabs at my feet to force me to walk slowly. I can hear the grass sighing in anticipation as I get closer and closer to her.
She is both beautiful and angelic as her hair and cheese cloth thin dress move in rhythm to the breeze created by the swaying grass around us. The sheerness of her clothing is awesome... but, I shy away from staring at her nudity. My mind has been already blown to mush.

Now I am standing arms length in front of her. I have never been a part of anything as beautiful and perfect as this moment... or have I? I am now looking at her perfectly smooth skin, the deep crystal green of her eyes, her white and flawless teeth, the creamy tea color of her awesome skin, the shape of her lovely form through the sheer fabric draped over her body, the size of her breasts as her nipples lightly push against the fabric oh so lightly covering her and… oh, the moment -- I feel as if I could hold my breath forever and die right here a fulfilled man.

This magnificent woman must be an ancient ancestor of an African goddess... and she might be here for me!
And then... this beautiful dream woman eases into my warm, embracing arms. She has seized me by my soul as she squeezes me into the bliss of her soft breasts against my wanting chest... and I am loving every second of the moments in time. Her presence, her touch, our bodies close together, the anticipation of our lips touching... I…

…I awaken. All of this was only another of the vivid dreams that have overtaken my nightly reality since my Horrorwalker visit fifty-three days ago. That frightening dark creature visited me on that late Sunday night and made me to read from that book of horror it carries with it from person to person.
It did something horrible to me that night. The images in the horror tale it forced me to read that night has haunted me on a nightly basis since then. My reality has been altered!

That reality is... she is still there standing and waiting for me deep inside the fantasy depths of my mind. And I… am still here rotting in this goddamn, rat infested, Texas dust town  prison cell. I’m innocent of the charges... ten years for stealing a candy bar from a convenience store? I have told everybody the store clerk never gave me a receipt. And, that she is lying on me that I stole that Sneakers bar! And, the fact that I am stuck here in this godforsaken Texas hell... unable to beg for outside help!

But I am digressing. For the present time being, the only escape from my solitary confinement is my nightly dream. God, I wish the Horrorwalker creature would have taken me with it when it vanished from this tiny jail cell after it finished with me that black as coal night. But it was here to make me read my tale and that was all.
I will not write down the details of my Horrorwalker tale, titled "GRASS", while I am incarcerated in this place. They have taken everything from me over this crazy, silly charge... I’ll not give them my thoughts, too.

In the meantime, I want to be back there in the realm of my dreams where she is. I need to plead my innocence to her, my dream desire of my Horrorwalker horror tale. Perhaps I will find peace of mind and soul if I can ever get past the spot where I awaken every time... in her embrace.
I am stuck in a horror vortex right now. I have two years in this hell hole behind me. How will I survive the next eight? It is 4:32 AM right now... can I fall asleep again to embrace my only chance of hope?
I will close my eyes and try to find my hope again. Here is this Texas jail cell... so remote and far away from civilization that I fall asleep at night to the serenade of the wolves in the woods.

I’m coming to see you again, my beautiful dream inside my dream. Will you deliver me from this living nightmare this time? Will you help me to purge away this gut gnawing feeling that I have lived this scenario before? I'll see you soon, my love... inside my dreams.


Monday, June 22, 2015


There is a new worker on the job.
She is a real beauty.
You are the first man to probe her for knowledge about herself.
You are looking for the one woman.
Could she be the one?
Or, is another dark episode about to be set off.
Here you go again, 
Saying What You Can!


(Season 5, Episode 5)


A slickly produced song plays in the background as you, Ellison Lionel Early, compose this letter to Jane Winston... your new co-worker down at the meat packing plant. Oh, if you were just a fraction as smooth as what you are listening to. Each word you form on this paper seems to be worse than the one before. You wish, as you write, that you were in fact a writer… not some lust struck hack dick attempting to do the impossible… communicate your thoughts through the written word.

So far, you've got two pages of drivel written. It is, you feel, stumbling and bumbling crap. You're afraid that if you give her this mess she'll probably laugh in your face. But what can you do beyond writing this letter? She is so fine, and nice, and has shown major interest in you. She even gave to you her telephone number and implored you to call her. You did call her, and in fact, set up a coffee shop date for Saturday. Good stuff, right?

Well, she paralyzed you with her boldness. When she looked you in your eyes the other day and asserted herself you regressed into every childhood fear of being rejected by the hot babe you have ever experienced. Now here she is, the object of your exhausted desire, in effect standing directly in front of you.

Lets see what you have here. You - best described as the average 5' 9" male with, what you believe, is a good heart and soul. You did have a severe stuttering problem as a child right through your early twenties, so you did not talk much to the ladies until recently. You live and let live without making trouble for yourself. You work hard at your job and you definitely make enough money to show her a good time, if she is not too extravagant. You figure you could lose a few pounds, but you're definitely not fat. You have never considered yourself to be ugly, obviously, because women never shy away from you. You're just scared to death of beautiful women. You rarely have conflicts with women, because you want to be friendly with the opposite sex.

You love women.

Lets see what you have here. Her… another matter entirely! She must stand proud at 6'2" tall. She towers over your 5'9" height. She… with the gloriously wispy black hair
that invites you to touch it. She… with the toned arms and long toned legs. She… with the flat stomach and perfect figure. There is no need to talk about her lovely face and her smooth brown skin. She is the perfect woman. More cause for the effect that is, "Why in the hell is she talking to me?"

Now you have three pages written. How many pages are too many pages? Should you stop now? No, you feel as though you need one more page. The last page is to be a written apology for the ramblings of the first three pages. But wait, no, you can't do that. The forth page apology would show too much fear and probably make you look too weird. OK, this is enough. Three pages of desire talk is enough.

Tomorrow is the next time you will see her. You will just hand the note to her in passing and pray that she will understand your shyness. You are well aware of the fact that some hot women hate shy. They see it as weakness. What will she think? Oh god, the anticipation of waiting for her response will be unbearable!

We'll just have to wait until the day after tomorrow to find out how this tale ends.
That first date is soon to come. What will happen is she says yes? Can a guy like you really finish first with a hot, hot woman? Well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?

And what if she decides to reject you and the letter you will give to her? There are sixteen skinless skulls of the ones that rejected you displayed in your private killing room in your sub-basement deep within the dark bowels of your secluded house up in the hills.

But you are not worried about this one… she is the one. Surely she will be the one to give you the impetuous to bury the skulls in the back yard and turn your energies to other things.

The anticipation is killing you!


Tuesday, June 16, 2015


Here are the thoughts surrounding Nathan Jones right now!

No mater how you've spent your day,
Or how you've controlled your night,
When you wake up in the morning you'll ultimately face the truth portal...
The bathroom mirror.

And if your night was spent rolling around in twilight mystery,
With a sublime creature of beauty and horror,
You just might look into that bathroom portal and ask yourself...
Is That My Face In The Mirror?


(Season 5, Episode 6)


(Smyrna, Georgia)

There is one thing a man can count on for the total truth --
It hangs, portal-like, in his darkened sanctuary booth.
That booth is the reality bending vortex called -- the bathroom.
Bad things can happen in there that may spell doom and gloom.

I just stumbled into that place of mine to look, again, into the truth portal.
The fading face reflected back at me destroyed the lie I can no longer sustain.
The gray hairs look grayer this early morning… more transparent…
And the once deep lines on that face are a little less pronounced today.

‘What the hell happened to me last night?' are the words bouncing in my mind.
I only drink two glasses of red wine with my restaurant meal.
Laura seemed to have a good time -- eating nothing -- she laughed at my lame jokes… again.
Good God, am I finally realizing more than the decades of difference in our ages?

My goodness, I am in love with a forever young twenty-seven year old young woman.
She is lying right there only about twenty feet from my confused mind and body.
Her smooth breathing and beautiful form screams youth and freshness and undeath.
Her flawless face draws me in like a confidant ant to an awesome Pitcher Plant.

She tells me every night that she loves me and needs me.
Her gentle touch shoots electricity straight into my vitality.
Her kisses transfers youth and vigor straight into my heart.
Her commitment makes me feel secure and needed.

And then she, again, sinks her two inch canine fangs deep into my neck.
The pain is exquisite as I feel her teeth-daggers plunging into my artery.
She sucks her fill of blood from my body… until, she releases my neck in her ecstasy.
Then she hops on top of me and fucks me with the animal fury of a lion kill!

But something odd happened last night.
Perhaps she drank too deeply of my life providing sustenance.
I do not want to be turned into what she is… at least not just yet.
I still enjoy being able to walk in the sunlight, feeling the warm rays on my face.

She will soon sleep her daily undead slumber… satiated and secure by my presence.
I wonder if even she knows what is happening to my body right now.
She will not lie there for long anyway… as day approaches her coffin gives her a siren call.
So, I will confront her then, in the other bedroom… hopefully, we can find some answers.

That’s all fine and good reality check stuff.
She is right here and I am now lying by her side.
All of this surreal supernatural love and relationship stuff is a fantastic adventure…
Until I look, again, into that mirror and agonize at my fading life and soul and face.


Monday, June 8, 2015


To be sure, Anderson Calhoun was at the end of his depression greased rope.
Life needed to come to an end because he couldn't tolerate life's ironic barbs any longer.
And illness here,
A setback there,
And it was time to pull out the gun from the hiding place.
But when a black light creature,
From deep inside the other side of reality pays him an unexpected midnight visit,
His life takes a turn from the depressed muck to the surreal admission that he really is...
Out Of His Mind!


(Season 5, Episode 7)


(Ithaca, N.Y.)


OK, journal… it’s me, Anderson, let’s get on with this!

Today, I admit that I'm officially going out of my mind!
I’m racked with fear,
With anguish,
With anxiety,
With paranoia!

Why? Because I just survived the first two weeks of my 40th birthday.
I am having so much trouble accepting certain facts about myself.
Just where am I in my life?
Just where did I go in my life?
Just who am I in this life of mine?

Just how did I actually arrive at this point in my life…
Where I question everything about myself?
Why can't I sleep when I close my eyes at night?
Why do I see myself standing over myself with my gun in my hand in my nightmares?

Three weeks ago my left kidney failed me -
I suffered through two painful weeks spent in the hospital!
I suffered through two surreal surgical procedures!
I suffered through seeing pints of blood mixed in with my urine!
I suffered through lonely nights spent in confused introspective thought;
Concluding in the now ever-present overwhelming fear of death!

It's not funny to me how all this angst suddenly appeared.
Damn, I just can't bear the thought of the void in death.
Will my family get sucked in with me if I stay inside this funk?
Can I actually skirt the morose pall hanging over me?
Fourteen days in the hospital, three days out of the hospital!
Ah, these painful screws tightening the noose on this state of mind are horrible!
Do I have the will of body and mind to stay in psyched-out hell to my 41st birthday?

Smith and Wesson, and I, have a lot to talk about tonight!
But, before I talk to this cold steel harbinger of death in my right hand,
There is a feeling that has just washed over me!
It just appeared to me from deep inside my soul…
And along the nerves that control the involuntary motor movements of my body.
Oh hell, the goddamn Horrorwalker creature is about to pay me a visit!

Fuck, if only I could control my own body right now.
I would shoot myself dead right here.
Oh damn, I can feel its presence behind me right now.
I don’t want to be forced to read a horror story from that weird book right now!
But suicide won’t happen… tonight.
I’ve already been forced by this monstrous entity to put down my gun… and my pen.
And, I am now facing this black cloaked monstrosity and it has already handed me the book.


I have been released from the unholy controlling grip of the Horrorwalker.
I am back to the motor control of my body.
With pen in very nervous shaky hand,
I begin this compulsion to write about this bizarre Horrorrwalker encounter.

I was forced by the creature to turn the thick, weirdly textured pages to this story.
Horrors to horrors… this cannot be, I screamed inside my mind!
Is this a joke being played on me by a twilight force from somewhere not of this earth?
No, this is truth… and I am looking at it!
The title of my Horrorwalker Horror Tome tale is… Out Of Your Mind!
And, obviously, it is going to be the twisted tale of my life… past, present and future.
I do not want to read from this book.

But read I do, because I have no choice in the matter.
Damn it all to hell!
I would rather have put the gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger than read…
The horror that is the rest of my soon to be short life.
Sometimes true horror walks into your life when you least expect it.
Looks like Smith and Wesson,
And I,
Will have a very different kind of conversation in a few hours!


Nobody ever said these Horrorwalker encounters were feel good visits that makes one happy and floating on butterfly wings!


Monday, June 1, 2015


The Horrorwalker presented this tale to a horrified woman sitting in her car in gridlock traffic!
May Anderson definitely felt that she was not ready for this profound look into a future horror.
All she could think of in the back of her mind,
As she was forced to read this awful horror tale,
Was 'Please God tell me I am not one of these evil people!'

A slow stream of tears flowed from her eyes as she read a tale of future horror called...


(Season 5, Episode 8)


(Wilmington, N.C)

Today, in the year 2235, there are still plenty of people across this great nation of ours who continue hate the other person next to them because of their skin color. To be honest and reasonable with the facts... plenty of white Americans hate black Americans. And, there are some black people who hate white people. And it is mostly white skinned people who denigrate me, mostly because of my glowing blue skin.

I live by the notion in my mind that even though I was born in North Carolina in 2201, called the same racist names as are inflicted upon black people by every other white person I met during my youth in coastal N.C., I am still considered to be an alien in the country of my birth because my parents are from the planet Saturn’s largest moon, Titan. And, I have been treated by many white skinned people like I am a parasitic creature that lives inside the muscle of the American body that must be driven out  by any means possible.

Thoughts of my reality like that should make me a paranoid, angry American who hates all white people and wants to show them the horrors of my life growing up here… and make them pay for it with horror without eristic intent. But, like 97% of the black skinned Americans who have ever been first dragged as slaves into this country, or born in this country as African-Americans, black people take the angry hateful shit that is heaped upon them by the world media, and people in general, and keep on keeping on in an attempt to live out our lives in peace… and to ultimately be left the fuck alone!

So to, do I!

In my opinion, every white person of adult age should look themselves in the eyes in a mirror and ask themselves this question… “What in the hell has a person from Saturn’s moon ever done to me?” Nearly all of them, I believe, would have to come to the conclusion that, in fact, not only have they never been wronged by a blue skinned person but they actually have few interactions with blue skinned people. Most of white America lives in areas of this country with extremely low blue populations. Yet, white people who have little contact with blues embrace the lies and distortions told by their fellow white man… those men who do not interact with blues, with the exceptions, basically, of those they bump elbows with in a few large cities and deep southern areas where most blues have been sent to to live with the black people..

The lies and vilification  of blue people in the USA is complete horror fiction bullshit!

As much as some of white America has tried to exterminate blueness in this country… by destroying their community from the inside out by the genocide of the blue male… all blue people should HATE white people. Yet, as a whole, we shy away from confrontation with white people. It is usually best for the health of a blue man to avoid white people. We take the absurd hatred heaped upon us  and try to shrug it off on a daily basis.

All of this racial derision pertains to white men and black men, too. We feel their pain.

Now… what about the interactions between white men and white women? He is a brave man, that blue man who decides to date a white woman. And... to take the relationship to the marriage level… and then to shoot at the moon by bringing mixed species children into the world? Now, that is brave living bullshit, indeed.

More power to the chemistry of love. And, more power of respect to relationships that buck the system to change the racial paradigms. The horrors of the American terrorists who prorogate racial discord may eventually fade away when the chemistry of love poisons hatred to death.

If modern blue people turned their attentions toward hatred… to act upon the hatred a whole lot of white people have heaped upon blues throughout our short American history… we would kill every white person in their sleep and eat them for a midnight snack!

But, even back in the 2100‘s, when blues were frightened and confronted with EXTREME racism and hatred, the question is still begged now… “what do we do?”

The zone that is in the twilight land of the absurdity of true horror is… often blue people are forced to turn to white people, those in power to overlord over them, to beg them to solve the issues plaguing us… including racial issues. And blue people often look off to the side, incredulously, as the white people they ask to solve the issues… created by other hateful white people… drag their goddamn feet because blue people realize who really protects their own first!

Racism sucks! And so do the stupid white people who perpetrate the greatest fraud in the existence of mankind… that blue people are what has been wrong with America from the beginning! First it was the black people who they accused of most of the ills with America. Then, as crazy as it sounds, the began to blame us. The truth is, as we have come to learn, WHITE people have always made the rules... and the corruption and the hatred has always been manufactured by them! A scapegoat has always been needed in America to focus the hatred and mistrust white Americans manufacture inside their heads… placed upon something other then themselves… and that scapegoat has been BLACK PEOPLE... I mean Blue people!

Sometimes, in a Horrorwalker world of very uncomfortable terror, the most horrific monsters walking the earth are the humans. And they are, in fact, more often the hunter than the prey!


Tuesday, May 26, 2015


Sublime communities exist on the outer twilight fringes of humanity.
They are supernatural communities that operate invisible in daylight,
And unseen in the midnight moonlight.
Some are benevolent,
Some are malevolent.,
All are exceedingly wary of fickle humans...
They who have a history of turning on them without a moment's notice.

Here is an introduction to one such community.
They fear humans less because they are dependent on them for food.
Read on, and get introduced to...
Vampire Logic!


(Season 5, Episode 9)

Dear Reader:
    Welcome to the beginning of the first book of six volumes of...
Vampire Logic.

     Please to allow me an introduction of myself. 
I am Ivan P. Romanov. 
I am a collector of prose and poetry created by a particular type of author. 
My clients and “acquaintances,” 
The ones that have provided me with examples of their work
Are extremely private persons and will only speak through me. 
Some do not even speak English.

I am an integral part of this private group, and so...
I speak through my intermediary -- Ronald Lee Jones,
The curator of the Horrorwalker World story blog site.
     My fellow authors,
And I,
Are all students and consumers and creators of the vampire genre of literature.
We spend much of our waking nighttime hours researching vampire logic and lore.
We exist to bring vampire knowledge and truth to the forefront of modern understanding.
We take vampire stories,
And vampire poetry,
And seek to expand upon what you think you know...
And what we have discovered as truth...
Vampire Logic!

     Some of our writers write because of a need to vent their emotions.
Some of our writers have submitted their pieces to justify their past and present behavior.
Others need to tell you why you should fear and respect Vampire Logic.

All of our writers feel the need to tell you why the vampire existence is a tortured existence,
At best.
     This is uncensored and uncut vampire logic!
Our writers put their thoughts on parchment...
And we present their words to you as you are meant to receive them.
The chill you feel in your spine,
As you read Vampire Logic stories
Is the influence moody blood vampire tales have on your soul.

     If you have any questions about what you are about to read,
You may contact me through Master Ronald Lee Jones.
Due to my particular line of “work” I can only be contacted during the dark hours between dusk to dawn. Intriguing tidbit of personal information,
Would you not say?
Master Jones knows of all the personal particulars.
Please to enjoy the fear and uneasiness you will experience as a fan of this horror genre!
For your perusal and consideration,
Are a few examples of the vampire stories --
From out of thousands of pieces of individual work --
From the minds of the men and women who discover and create --
Vampire Logic! 

Remember to take careful heed to what you read in Vampire Logic.
Stories that warn you about the folly of your foolishness,
And ignorance,
Are learning tools for you to prevent your own horribly painful demise.
But, I am digressing.
Look for Vampire Logic very soon...
And remember the fact that I am writing these words for your horror education!
I will see you sooner than later.
Goodnight, for now.


Monday, May 18, 2015


Everybody has a breaking point.
For some, it comes later than sooner.
Oh well,
Better Late Than Never!


(Season 5, Episode 10)


(Boston, Massachusetts)

Have you ever had a deal with a certain type of person,
You know the kind… a person who you learn to hate over time!
Be it particularly someone who solidly believes that he is…
Delusionally... in an authoritative position above you.
He tells you in no uncertain terms that you are a worthless freak?

Have you been the brunt of untold years of cruel workplace hazing?
Have you ever been cock-teased by mean women as cruel as lecherous men?
If your answer is a resounding yes to one of these questions,
Actually to both of these questions,
You should heed these words of warning before you strike back!

If you don’t watch your own ass by measure of your own aggression,
You will be consumed by the same sorry backstabbing dicks…
Standing around in and out of the shadows of your life…
Waiting for their chance to pick you apart.
Stand tall and true to your inner terror nature... to defend yourself!
Tell them all in a whisper to wait just a minute while you gather your “stuff!”

You should openly feel like you have the right to turn the table on them.
Why did you ever allow it to get this bad in the first place?
They didn’t even really know just who you are, anyway.
And when you were pushed to the breaking point…
When you had finally had enough of all the pressure and bullshit…
It was too late to go back to the abuser for some more nonsense.

And after you’ve killed them all in a rage induced psychotic break,
And buried their bodies in shallow graves in the park,
You will then realize your true inner potential.
It is empowering to strangle the bitch who scorned you!
It was giddy fun to behead your annoying co-workers.
And, eviscerating your bastard boss was evil fun!

The cops are now sniffing hard core on your trail…
As they track you across the horror filled countryside!
You smile as you stare glass eyed at the still bloody ax in your hands.
And smile the smile of the unhinged deranged bully victim!
And you bathe in the warm, sweet sensation created by this question:
“Why didn’t I start killing all my bullies in middle school?”


Monday, May 11, 2015


A horror hell on earth...
Crossroads Correctional Center...
A place a father doesn't want his child to ever be trapped inside.
In order to present an intervention,
The father gives the son a few words about the horror of...
All Kinds Of Hell!


(Season 5, Episode 11)


(Cameron, Missouri)

Anton, your word game is as disposable as a dry peach pit,
Because your sorry street rap is so full of bullshit!
Your sincerity is tired, juvenile and oh so very lame,
Like your sorry attitude is simple worthless blame.

You say you're a gangster and a thug ­-
Because of the oppression by 'the man.'
I view you as a pitiful, lost little bug!
You're only 16, with your head deep in the sand.

No one has oppressed you, stupid ass!
You live in the land of the blame game.
Your problem is you've been given a blank pass.
You are a spoiled brat without any aim.

Talk to your learned brothers and learn something!
Breath some fresh air and get rid of the idiot 'bling.'
Shed the false ignorance and get your ass back in school!
You can't swim… and you are drowning in life's deep pool!

You’re nowhere near to being a man, as of yet.
You’re flittering around… about to be a stupid fly caught in a dangerous net.
Home is where your game should be honed.
These streets will only get you battered and stoned.

So, be one of the hundreds who becomes enlightened by releasing the street rope.
You’ve tasted the street dope, you’ve smelled the dope, you’ve been a dope.
The dark molten horror you will face as an alternate reality of the continued actions you steer?
Life inside the hellhole of a prison that I, your dad, fights through every goddamn year!


Monday, May 4, 2015



Here it continues... the last 13 episodes of this series!
Here, in season 5, begins the 13 week countdown to the final horror tale --

Let the horror begin anew...

For all of the cat lovers out there,
Here is a little horror missive with sensitive whiskers!
It is about what your cat does...
In The Deepest Part Of The Night!


(Season 5, Episode 12)


(Falls Church, Virginia)

You are Carly Masterson and you have drifted away from reality via your dreams again.
Your stunning feline with feather light paws sits between your breasts in focused Zen.
She is staring directly into your face with eyes glowing green as backlit jade from Spain.
She is obviously waiting for something profound... something in need of a little pain.

In the darkest part of the night,
When the little ebony things that fear the light
Come out from beneath your sleeping site...
They crawl silently into your brain to observe your life light.

And if you are strong enough, on this night,
They simply crawl back into hiding to avoid the morning light.
But if your life force is weak and lacks the might...
They steal a part of your soul to use it for the return flight!

They will flutter around your abode like little rabid vampire bats,
Hovering above you awaiting the clues, like stealthy rats.
And if you are weak enough on that night of bad stats...
Your soul will be taken to the land of death and blood and gnats.

If you are a follower of the Horrorwalker horror and you fear not death or hell,
Then you welcome the challenge of the battle for your soul to tell.
You've got until the sun rises for the creatures to return to their dell...
To force the little imps to stop chasing you like a wind blown sail!

Oh, you will make them return your inner id.
You claw and fight, striking with your sharpened fid!
You remember it all as that "recurring stupid dream," kid...
But you know, don't you, it's all too real, god forbid!

In the darkest part of the night comes hellish things bent on your destruction.
They climb out of your mind to make real your horrible deconstruction.
If you survive another night of monstrous evil purposed with your life’s reduction...
Maybe you can lift your soul out of this supernaturally aggressive life’s abduction.

You toss and you turn in your bed again, this early darkened dawn.
You have battled the dark creatures in your dreams and you can see your green lawn.
Another embattled night has passed and you are almost home where you are drawn.
You are almost back inside your body again to escape the place to where you had gone.

And as always, upon your chest sits your trusted Siamese cat, Tab.
She stares at your nose awaiting your breath to return for her to grab.
She knows, by primal born instincts, from you what her claws must jab.
She will save you, again, as she kills the monsters upon your breath she will grab.


Carly will be greatly disturbed again when she awakens with her cat by her side.
She will come back to the day with blood all over her chest, again.
As usual, she will not be able to discern where the blood comes from.
She will again turn to her best friend, who is cleaning its reddened paws, for comfort in her time of need.