Hudson Valley Halloween Horror

October 5, 2021 at 10:58 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, Gothic poem, Gothic romance, Horror, Humour, International Intrigue, News, Sorcery, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

Vincent: I’m afraid, cousin Jenny, that cousin Floyd will be unable to dine with us this evening.

Jenny: Why ever not?

Vincent: He had the misfortune of being eaten by a black jaguar in the woods last night.

Jenny: A black jaguar in the Hudson River Valley?

Vincent: No doubt the poor creature was a long ways from home. Which may explain why not much was left of Floyd when he was found. Only his right ear and the thumb on his left hand which was tattooed with a drawing of Napoleon. How they were able to identify him.

Jenny: How positively awful.

Vincent: I’ll say. He owed me $100. Money that I suppose now will never be repaid.

Jenny: What was he doing walking in the woods?

Vincent: No one is sure. The only thing known for sure is that he was wearing a pink nightgown while walking in the woods.

Jenny: So that’s why they called him Pink Floyd.

Vincent: Undoubtedly.

Jenny: Whatever happened to that nutty woman they found walking in the woods last week?

Vincent: The one who claimed to have come from the year 2021 and believed herself to be a female Christ saying if people vaccinated themselves, they were Apostles of her love.

“That’s the one,” Jenny nodded.

“I had her burnt at the stake as a witch,” Vincent answered.

“Burnt at the stake?” Jenny was shocked.

“Yes, there was some old wood I was wanting to get rid of,” Vincent nodded, “so I killed two birds with one stone.”

A pair of large black ravens fell from the sky.

“She was a witch?” Jenny turned pale.

“Yes the demons Moloch, Baal and Baphomet visited her room at the village inn,” Vincent explained, “where they jabbed the innkeeper’s daughter with a needle and she died.”

“Awful,” Jenny shook her head.

“There is much evil in the land,” Vincent noted just as the clock was 5 minutes shy of twelve, “Darkness falls across the land, the midnight hour is close at hand and whosoever shall be found without the soul for getting down must stand and face the hounds of Hell and rot inside a corpse’s shell.”

“There’s a three headed dog out there,” Jenny gasped as she looked out the window.

“That would be Cerberus,” Vincent explained.

Vincent went over to his sitting room book shelf and grabbed a volume of ancient Koine Greek and looked up the words for “Sit” and “Good boy”.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 5th
2021.

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The Duck Called Samuel Puddlington At The Wax Museum

September 6, 2020 at 10:18 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Poetry) (, , , , , )

There was a Saint Bernard drinking a barrel flask of doubling gin
This side of the town of Duddlington
When he was approached by the duck called Samuel Puddlington

“Good sir,” said the duck as he raised his hat
Which scared off an approaching ravenous cat
“I’m looking for the wax museum in town,
Am I on the right path? Or am I out of bound?”

Said the big furry giant, “Go two blocks yonder and make a left
Like the present Communist Pope of faith bereft,
There you will find the town’s wax museum
With washrooms closed so outside you’ll be peein’. ”

So Samuel Puddlington followed the big dog’s directions
And passed by the store Big Al’s Furniture Selections
There across the street was the wax museum
And following the dog’s advice, outside did his peein’.

He paid his entrance fee and entered the space
which was filled with men and women of varied time and place
There was Marie Antoinette who lost her head
and Robespierre whose Reign of Terror was dread
Until at Guillotine himself, he made his own bed

There was Cleopatra the Queen of The Nile
And Jekyll trying to hide Hyde in his nail file
And meeting his end on the banks of the Thames was Jack the Ripper
Who was swallowed by a heroic giant fish named Flipper

“That definitely explains why they never found Jack!”
Said Sam as he pulled a feather out of his back
Down the hall were comic book characters Richie Rich and Sad Sack
Plus Wolfman Larry Talbot leading the wolves in the pack

In contemporary times
As he jotted down rhymes
were Donald Trump with his silly looking toupee
And Joe Biden whose mind was lost on the way
While in the background, Stalin’s and Mao’s ghosts were at play.

At the end of the hall Lincoln sat in his Ford Theatre seat looking sad
For the play title author’s American cousin had gone mad
Neo-Nazi and Confederate vampire battled Bolshevik and Maoist
And meditating on the sidelines was Buddhist and Taoist

Lincoln’s last words heard by Mary Todd were
“We will visit the Holy Land and see those places
hallowed by the footsteps of the Savior”
like an empty tomb that once marked where a grave were
“There is no city on Earth I so much desire to see as Jerusalem”
Site of where Isaac was saved by the blood of the ram
And the world’s humanity was saved by the blood of the Lamb.

-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday September 6th
2020.

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Semi Rhyming Haiku About Poe’s The Pit and The Pendulum and Roger Corman Film With Vincent Price

April 19, 2018 at 10:34 pm (Film, Horror, Literature, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

Semi Rhyming Haiku About Poe’s The Pit and The Pendulum and Roger Corman Film With Vincent Price

Blade a real swinger
Will give your head a zinger
What a Price to pay

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Haiku About Vincent Price

November 16, 2016 at 5:35 pm (Film, Movies, Poetry) (, , , , , )

Haiku About Vincent Price

From Shakespeare to Poe
Film noir to bloodcurdling horror
Thriller of a life

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Haiku About Actor Vincent Price

October 13, 2013 at 3:37 pm (Poetry) (, , , , )

Mister Vincent Price

a voice so soft and mellow

bespeaks such terror

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Ghosts Galore

July 26, 2013 at 7:32 pm (The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The entertainer in the pub sang, “I’m Henry VIII I am, I am, I just got married to the widow next door, she’s been married 7 times before and everyone was a Henry – Henr-ee  so that makes me Henry the Eighth I am…”

Outside the pub waiting for him was the ghost of Henry VIII and the ghost of his executioner.

“I didn’t find your song very humourous,” Henry harrumphed, “off with his head.”

The executioner swung his ghostly axe and the axe passed harmlessly through the entertainer’s head.

“I see you don’t know how to manifest spiritual objects into a material reality,”  Pan Goatee laughed as he astral projected by on his way to a replication of the Bohemian Grove ceremony on the banks of the Thames.

“Me?  I thought it was you who was going to bring the statue of the giant owl,”  former British Prime Minister Tony Blair said  in exasperation to the current Archbishop of Canterbury.

                     .         .        .

The ghost of Josef Stalin stood in shock on Brazil’s Copacabana Beach at the massive crowd of young people cheering Pope Francis.

A booming voice seemed to echo out of the heavens,  “Well Joe you stupid ass,  I didn’t think I’d ever see you again after you kicked the bucket.  Well now you know how many soldiers the Pope has.”

Stalin’s ghost looked up and saw a huge cloud in the shape of Sir Winston Churchill’s head smoking a giant cigar.

                        .          .          .

Adolf Hitler’s ghost sat in Rush Limbaugh’s huge dressing room and waited for the enormously stout talk show host to return.

The Fuhrer’s spirit tried to help himself to a piece of chicken from one of the 6 dozen buckets of KFC that sat on the dressing room table awaiting Mr. Limbaugh’s return.

But since he didn’t know how to project material objects into a spiritual reality, he couldn’t.

When Rush returned, the Fuhrer greeted him enthusiastically.

Speaking in a thick German accent and spraying his own moustache with his enthusiasm, the Fuhrer said, “I really love your show and agree with everything you say.  The non-whites in this country are getting far too uppity in my opinion.”

                 .         .         .

The Greek vampire Hades used the remote to turn off his satellite TV and then spoke to one of his aides, “You know the reception is so bad underground.  We really should think about switching over to Cable.”

“I’ll look into it, sir,”  his aide replied.

“But still despite the blurry picture, it still gives me some idea of the chaos that exists above,” Hades helped himself to some pomegranate seeds, “we must see what we can do about getting Cerberus back to his guard dog position again so we can stop all these damned spirits from crossing back over the River Styx to the world above.”

“I’ll see what I can do, sir,” his aide remarked.

“It’s all so frustrating,”   Hades hit his forehead, “where’s Persephone when you really need her?  All this masturbation starts to get on one’s nerves after a while.”

“You’re forgetting that it’s summer on Mount Olympus, sir,” his aide reminded him.

“Why doesn’t anyone remember to turn over the page on this damned calendar?” Hades snapped as he turned over the calendar several pages.

                 .           .            .

On one side of the River Styx,  Chris de Burgh sang, “Don’t pay the ferryman until he gets you to the other side…”

On Mount Olympus, Vincent Price spoke as he watched Michael Jackson dance on the moon,  

“Darkness falls across the land,
The midnight hour is close at hand…”

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Friday July 26th 2013

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