is Don't get dried out by... Match the infamy of the woman from the STORY below You won't fall asleep in church today Leave those dragons be! Brett Piper may have more than he can handle after all in... Is there no pleasing this lady? You may rightly ask... The detective encounters a guy who ain't from around here Over and over And what are the neighbors up to? Curl around the coastlines! Just because some watery tart flings a sword at you! (click below for the STORY) Half of what you read and none of what you see... The frontiersman must face a hazardous sea... It's a jungle out there (click for the STORY) It's cursed, but just the same... They will always get you in the end...
Wendy went walking westward, wondering why...under a full and fulgent moon she wandered, whistling wistfully, until she drew nigh the old colonial cemetery. Wendy had always been wary of this place, yet she went there every time she found herself in the vicinity; until this night, however, Wendy never dared to pass through its gate. She stood frowning through the grim entrance, her eyes fixed upon one lopsided slate gravestone in particular--the one that always caught her eye and made her shudder with an unaccountable feeling of dread..."What," Wendy wondered aloud, "is so special, or so creepy, about that one stone?" Wendy took a tentative step toward the iron gates, chained and padlocked shut for decades--she shrieked just a bit as the chain fell off and one gate swung groaningly open for her, but she wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and marched in, her shoes crunching the dead leaves with every step, until she stood at last before the beckoning gravestone. The
The Ghosts That Haunt Us by Chaosfive-55, literature
Literature
The Ghosts That Haunt Us
Places are not haunted--humans are; ghosts in crisp uniforms, Slaughtering each other over tiny strips of land, or differences of Language, skin color, creed...Cain's ghost still wanders over the earth, His mark upon us all... "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God." Where are the peacemakers? We need them now.
The three novels I have produced all have one thing in common: the House of Nefandous, a sinister and not-quite-extinct clan of sorcerers, ghouls and evil despots. In The Bride of Chaos, they were the previous royal clan, now happily defunct except for one member, a vicious ghoul who had been entombed alive by his relatives. At the beginning of The Daughters of Orion, Omega Nefandous, a morally ambivalent witch, is keeping Darla Noel Page prisoner in her family's mansion in the woods, ostensibly for Darla's protection but Omega has ulterior motives...and at the start of The Scepter of Chaos, Lenore Corbeaux returns to the run-down bookstore where she worked in order to confront her boss, whose grimoire sent her into another dimension--that necromancer was also of the House of Nefandous. The word "nefandous" is archaic and seldom used today--it means "unspeakable" and comes from the Latin nefandus; in my literary mythos, the Nefandous family is (or was) one of the thirteen Houses of