Santa Claus is real...real pissed. Here is the second installment of my Christmas slasher....
The Naughty List, Part One
I've was lazy in November, at least as far as Curio Macabre was concerned. Sometimes you just need to take a break, a sabbatical, a vacation or whatever name you put on it. I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving, and, equally, hope all of you are anticipating a wonderful Christmas. This December I thought …
Three Poems
I don't write a lot of poetry anymore. I used to once upon a time, but my poetic muse has largely left me in the last several years. Every so often words or phrases invade my head, or something happens and bits and pieces work into something resembling a poem. These three, more or less, …
What You Wish For
When two strangers have a conversation over drinks in a bar the future is changed in drastic ways.
Luanne Forever
Gene watched the tattoo artist, one Sid Sinowski of No Mercy Tattoos & Body Piercings, mix Luanne’s ashes into the ink. The tattooist grunted from time to time as he worked, scratched at his thick neck which was covered in art like the rest of his exposed skin (save for his scruffy face). Even the …
The Devil’s Pussy
Jordan Hinshaw was three years old when his dad abandoned him and his mom, Gail. By age ten, he had no living grandparents. His mother had two sisters with whom she was not on speaking terms. She didn’t even know where they lived, or if they were dead or alive. His mom had mentioned great …
The room is big.
The room is big. It is as big as a house. It is filled with caskets. They go as far as my eyes can see. I am four years old and it is Tuesday June 9th, 1981. My dad, the deacon of Center Free Will Baptist Church, died the previous day, on June 8th (my …
Augustine’s Hell
Scott sat in his car in the garage. He had buckled his seatbelt out of habit. The garage door was closed and, through the little rectangular windows set into it, he watched the trees in the wind blown night. They danced violently against the sky which was illuminated red/orange by the fires that had erupted …
Glory Hereafter
The skin around the boy’s neck was bruised to black from the tightness of the iron collar. His eyes bulged and he had to open his mouth wide to capture a breath. Three poles were fastened to the collar, long enough so the men who held them were out of reach should the boy try …
Still Waters
The night his father died, Jeff Olliet's lungs were full of the same crepe myrtle and Spanish moss that teased his nose now in the full swelter of day. He leaned on the tree, listening to the congregation in the church singing about the sweet by and by as the river accompanied their chorus. He …