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

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!