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Sunday, September 30, 2018

Dream & Reality issue ☩

Welcome to the twenty-second surviving edition of the Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, the Dream & Reality issue, this one taking particular care to concentrate on that ancient form of written expression known as poetry (this idea stemming from a natural extension of our penultimate edition, last October's Hallowe'en Piñata Issue ☠, when we serialized every chapter of Edgar Allan Poe's one and only published novel, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, and then threw in a clay potful of surprise poems from a variety of initiates including all four members of the Crimson Circle, in addition to a last-minute unforeseen curiosity, the rare John Shirley story "And When You Called Us We Came To You," all of which rounded out into an altogether satisfactory imprint for our webzine). So I decided to commemorate our zine's revival with a special poetry issue. 



Dream & Reality  

the FREEZINE of
Fantasy and Science
Fiction 

The first cover image for the Dream & Reality issue; courtesy of NASA. Alexander Gerst photo taken from ISS

The Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction remains a blog open to full disclosure in broad daylight. The artists and writers involved have been dragged into these events on slowly unfolding currents of a heretofore unexpected variety arriving altogether unforeseen in compliance  with their own discretion, and we remain grateful for this willfulness to exercise their freedom of expression here on this obscure world wide forum, where we all may gather to enjoy, vicariously, the dark and fantastic bits of fancy they have offered for our mindful consumption. For shouldn't we remain mindful of what we read and dare to look at with our naked eyes under the tightening and unraveling of this electromagnetic spectrum? What better place to meet than in this home-spun coziness of the vaporous tracings of the world wide web.  

Thus we are brought together over Blogger, an expanding snippet of cyberterritory first launched by Pyra Labs in 1999, and acquired by Google just four years later, in 2003. Six years after that, I began the Freezine as a blog that would dispense daily serializations of fantasy and science fiction stories, as well as shorter, stand alone tales on Fridays; a four week issue alternating every other month, replete with full color, original scanned artwork to complement the spirit of the venture.  The Freezine went full-tilt for the first couple of years, then began slowing down a bit, and now here we are, lucky to have one issue last year and one issue for 2018.  

An apt sub-title for this current issue would've been the "waking up to reality" issue, considering its recovery in the immediate wake of having reacquired third-party image-hosting rights from our private service provider, Photobucket,  along with the Nano Armada and my dedication to keeping this project going. We've been lucky in that regard and have been thus able to resurrect our weird zine, which after the onrush of the aforementioned issues, had lain somewhat dormant with inactivity for some time, unbeknown to most, as the trend winding down has indicated for the past few years.  

And so the Freezine finds itself in the midst of a fortuitous realignment of energies having resulted in a re-ignition of its former hyperdrive engines. This coincides with an urgent message from the nanoswarm'henceforth immediately proceed with your wildest dreamings...(message interference)...opportunity may . . .  again...'(message cut off).  All the missives I've receivedfrom the mysterious, lurking micro-presence I've been led to believe have been delivered by a sequence of nanocomputers injected into neutrinos fired back in time through black holes dilated in the far futurehave been relatively short; mostly no more than suddenly-interrupted bursts of semi-intelligible commands. I've gathered that whatever splintered enclave of humanity sent them managed to survive that long into the future perhaps having braved outer space after all, possibly in a pressurized Tesla Station orbiting a gas giant's moon, or along some strip of  an off-world colony to which the last remnant of our species will manage to cling. For example, let's say ironically, Ceres.

We at the Freezine would like to consider ourselves emissaries to help spread our need for humanity at this current moment in time to freely value sharing our passions together, openly over this extensive networking tool known as the world wide web. Thus, our experimental blog and online fanzine has parselborne the ancient practice of storytelling for its own sake into a new fruition as dark and bright as ever graced the leaves of the old rotting compost heap of books. 

For we ourselves are the unending double-twined helix of encoded messagethe twining serpent—humanity, we of the slithering tongue, entrusted with the imperial task of reminding us all we are the only protectors and custodians tasked with seeing to it the sustainable diversity of our flourishing ecosystem continues to be maintained. The cautionary tales collected here will remain to both entertain and to hiss out the necessary warnings and aphorisms to future generations.  Take care... 

On to the twenty-two poems showcased by twelve different writers over the course of the month of September, 2018, which together form the table of contents of this, our Dream & Reality issue of the Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.  The images beneath the titles and author's bylines hyperlink directly to the poems in the Freezine itself. +Click+


Preface
by Keith Graham
image by Predictive Science, Inc. 


War of the Orb
by Shaun Lawton
art by Prince Satyrn



A Prince in the Kingdom of Ghosts
by John Shirley
art by Prince Satyrn



The Hidden Door
by Adam Bolivar

art by Shasta Lawton



In Fits of Wildest Dreaming
by KA Opperman
art by Drew Roulette


The Devouring Serpent
by Shaun Lawton




Walking on Water
by Sheikha A.
art by Drew Roulette



Absinthia
by KA Opperman
art by Drew Roulette



The Sad Tale of Suzy Yen
by Johnny Strike
art by Drew Roulette



A Clear Midnight
by Walt Whitman




The Geniture Mill
by Shaun Lawton
art by Jeanne-Pierre Luminet



Time To Be Clear
by Bonnie 'Prince' Billy
art by Lori Damiano



Wordless Whisperer
by John Shirley
art by Drew Roulette



Moon-Tropes
by Sheikha A.
art by Drew Roulette



The Creeping Glass
by Shaun Lawton
art by Drew Roulette



Wanderers 
by Phoenix
art by Jason Barnett


The Fungal Nymph
by KA Opperman
art by Jason Barnett


Medusa Finds Love
by Sheikha A.
art by Suvojit Banerjee



Fear
by Hart Crane
art by Jason Barnett



Midnight in the Ebon Rose Bower
by KA Opperman
art by Jason Barnett



A Sorceress's Final Vision
by Ashley Dioses
art by Jason Barnett



Aeaea's Moon
by Gene Stewart
art by Drew Roulette





The Dream & Reality issue could not possibly have been assembled into its fabulous configuration if it weren't for the participation of its contributors, for whose willingness to share their work on this utility network with us we remain forever grateful. 

A genuine thank you from deep within goes out to everyone who contributed to the poems this issue for us to read and ponder over in order to share them together online should we so feel inclined. Thanks, Keith Graham, for daring to send out your poem because it served perfectly as the preface to this issue, which I dubbed the "Dream & Reality issue" for lack of a better theme to which contributors might aim for. I wanted our net to be cast as open, far and wide as possible, so I thought of the most inclusive guidelines I could come up with, and figured "dream and reality should just about cover it."  After all the submissions came in and were sorted out, the gems collected here have fashioned an extraordinary issue. 

Thanks to John Shirley for contributing two excellent pieces which help set the stage for what comes ahead. His talent for penning lyrics comes through loud and clear. Both poems he's offered us help expand the parameters of our three-ring-psychus.  I think they'd make great Blue Öyster Cult songs. I can't begin to thank John enough for his continued enthusiasm and support of our creative endeavor here on this blog. Without you, John, this webzine would most likely have never gotten off the ground in the first place.  

Thanks to Johnny Strike for sending me the poem, it's a gift plain and simple dropped into our cup and I'll say more than just a tip of the hat goes out to the late Mr. Strike, I say without him adding a spike of insolent venom into the stew here, reminding us of the sure-footed street spirit that runs a mean streak through this zine, well without Johnny Strike's contributions this place would rock considerably less.  I'll always remember my online correspondence with him fondly, and with a feeling of real friendship, to which I'll toast with every future Mai Tai that I'll ever have the pleasure of drinking here on this earth.  

Thank you, Adam Bolivar, for your wonderful contribution to our issue. I daresay it distinguishes the table while elevating the contents to a degree otherwise unobtainable without your august services, which, might I add, are of the highest caliber. It's wonderful to get another peek into your word-mirror and catch a glimpse of old Jack staring back at us.  

Thanks as well to Sheikha A for taking a chance hosting your poems on our eccentric webzine, and I'm additionally grateful for your willingness to conjure a poem for Suvojit Banerjee's illustration. The resulting poem and drawing really blend in well with everything else. All three of your poems bring a mystique to this issue which make a direct connection to a powerful underlying theme that has slithered through our beings and the universe itself for as long as memory holds, and I remain grateful we made this connection together to share here with the world. Drew's imagery really helped bring out the subtext into stark contrast and bring home its underlying significance to our devoted readers.  

A sincere thanks goes out to KA Opperman, your four poems serve as the foundational stonework by which our fortress remains supported. Your presence adds considerable heft to all this enterprise and strangely, allows it the buoyancy it needs to achieve astral flight. Without your particular skill of wordcraft, this vessel would be losing the altitude it needs for a stratospheric launch. You, dear interlocutor of minds, have proven invaluable toward our achieving orbit on a level with the ISS.  

Thank you Ashley Dioses for gifting our issue with your dazzling poem.  It integrates with the remaining works to form an arresting portrait of the dizzying scope by which our imaginations may come to possess us.  It has been a real honor for me and our host of readers to have you and Mr. Opperman aboard our sleek craft of confabulations. 

Thanks to my friend Phoenix, aka The Street Kid, for your wonderful contribution to this revivalist issue of the Freezine. Without your burning spirit these wings would never have risen to take flight. You're an essential ingredient in the incandescent fuel that helped blast our ship into space. 

For the last of the writers, thanks goes out to Gene Stewart for his mythopoetic contribution, Aeaea's Moon, which together with a particular painting of Drew Roulette's managed to shed deeper illumination into the burgeoning context of what transpires when our imaginations conjure up dreams, something which continues to elude our clear understanding to this day but which may best be described as having resulted in, over the long term, our reality. 

Thanks to an echo of the diminishing shade of Hart Crane for moving me to recognize some of my favorite early poems of his have just slipped into the public domain. The poem Fear was always a favorite of mine, and I think Jason Barnett's illustration complements it very well.  Additional thanks goes out to the echoing ghost of Walt Whitman, whose poem A Clear Midnight I present as an homage in the wake of Johnny Strike's passing, a memorial to him and a testament to his standing with us. See you on the other side, Johnny. 






Thanks to NASA and Alexander Gerst for their stunning contributing photo of our planet's cloudscape from the ISS.  Predictive Science Inc. developed a numerical model that simulated what the corona would look like during the Aug. 21, 2017, total solar eclipse. The composite image used for Keith Graham's Preface poem was generated from photographs taken on the day of the total eclipse to the model’s predictions. Credits: Predictive Science Inc./Miloslav Druckmüller, Peter Aniol, Shadia Habbal/NASA Goddard, Joy Ng.  

Thanks to Prince Satyrn for having provided the accompanying visual images for my own broken sonnet War of the Orb  and John Shirley's lyrical A Prince in the Kingdom of Ghosts. Your art found its optimal match in our poems in ways that touch on the uncanny. Your visionary art style fits the Freezine so well that I hope you continue collaborating with us for many issues to come.  

Thanks to my wife Shasta for the old freezine image of the silver key used in Adam Bolivar's The Hidden Door (it comes from the buried archive of Weird Jack art still in our reserves). She remains one of the original core artists for the Freezine, and her signature style has become a familiar imprint among the wild stream of issues we've generated. With more good luck and focus I'm sure there will be more where that came from.  

Thank you to Suvojit Banerjee for the illustration accompanying Sheikha A's Medusa Finds Love. This is a particular favorite of ours and really blends in with the rest of the scenery. There's an emotional directness to the sketch that really helps frame all the associative elements within the greater context of our meta-narrative. It stands as yet another fitting puzzle piece in our collaborative jigsaw puzzle of painted words.  

A million colorful shades of gratitude go out to Drew Roulette for letting me run with it, having at first resulted in the imagery for two KA Opperman poems: In Fits of Wildest Dreaming, and Absinthia. Drew's vivid art also accompanied two poems by Sheikha A: Walking on Water and Moon-Tropes. His unique style then fit extremely well for poems contributed by both John Shirley (Wordless Whisperer) and the late Johnny Strike (The Sad Tale of Suzy Yen). Lastly, Drew's singular vision worked perfectly at both underscoring a sense from my own poem The Creeping Glass in addition to complementing Gene Stewart's closing piece, Aeaea's Moon, in subtle and effective ways.  For those of you unfamiliar with Drew's fantastical talent for painting, visit his website and check out what he has in stock. Take note: Drew plays bass for one of the best modern alternative rock bands out there, Dredg from Los Gatos, California. If you haven't listened to their uplifting signature style of heavy alternative music, head over to YouTube and check any song of theirs. I've seen them live at least ten times, and they always deliver among the best concerts I've ever witnessed. All of their albums are amazing works of sonic art.  I urge everyone to catch up with Dredg, if you haven't already. 

Thanks to Lori D for having made her images available online for someone like me to make into a zine. It all came together with bonnie prince's song Time to Be Clear, which led me to reading the wolfroy goes to town LP liner notes, where I noticed that bonnie prince was inspired to make the record from a Lori D painting, so I began my search through her online gallery in earnest, trying to see if I could figure out which painting was the one that inspired Will Oldham to make the wolfroy goes to town album, and I became all the richer for it. I did eventually find the painting (I think). Be sure to visit Lori Damiano's online gallery here.  

Which brings me to our final participating artist for this issue, Jason Barnett, of Portland, Oregon. His work has already graced the covers and interior gatefold of Cadabra Records exquisite audial production of Thomas Ligotti's short story The Bungalow House, and we are indebted for his participation in the following adaptations presented here: two KA Opperman poems (The Fungal Nymph and Midnight in the Ebon Rose Bower); Wanderers, by Phoenix; Fear, by Hart Crane; and A Sorceress's Final Vision, by Ashley Dioses. The flow and evolution of these images enhancing the progression of the poems really laid out a strange alternate universe that managed to capture their dark and fantastic elements. Jason also happens to be the frontman for the super heavy deathmetal band Petrification, out of Portland, Oregon. I was lucky enough to witness their live onslaught, and if you're into the oldschool metal with a sick, heavy twist—Jason creates all the band's cover art and T-shirt designs—you should definitely check them out. 

So, huge shout outs to both Jason Barnett and Drew Roulette for rolling with thisour Dream & Reality issuethe twenty-second of the Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction to survive since we began compiling these serials together eight years ago. Finally, thank you to the nanoswarm and that cabal of people from the far future who manage to control it; without them, this blog would have never taken root in my mind to begin with.   
 ~Your friendly editor, Shaun Lawton 


"Chief Shamanic," a painting by Drew Roulette


THIS ISSUE DEDICATED TO
GREGORY ALDEN DAVIS
FREDRICK MILO HAYES II
JOHNNY STRIKE



Friday, September 28, 2018

Aeaea's Moon




                                                                    art by Drew Roulette



Follow a trough to The Moon,
Its light a path through veils of mist,
Its shadowed side a lure for unimagined lusts;
Follow light to dark through depths surging.

Waves sloshed on tilted bedrock,
Moving in quakes of our planet’s agony,
Splash over all edges, swamp scupper to bilge,
Pumped out only to seek entry again,

Such waves rock us, roll us over, sink us
In plunges away from air’s freedom
Toward pressured depths massively surging; 
Unstable ocean bed bounces skyward.

Frames twist, decking planks rattle, sails
Shred with bat-flap shrieks, a gale upon us,
Keel cracks, main mast falls, jibs fly as
Makeshift harpoons as ropes lash us.

Tossed up, falling in slides down steep slopes
Of unsettled water bigger than our ship had been
Before it shattered in hollow hopeless surrender,
We ride out stormy hate, survive rain’s hammering,

Untold tons of ocean fury avalanching onto us,
Each gasp of air a cruel taunt, forced lingering in
Terror’s grip, squeezed beyond endurance until
We find ourselves, so few, afloat, within sight,

Near enough to holler, waving frantic hands.
Swimming to cluster, human jellyfish, sharks
Soon to find us, we hate sun’s burn, shiver
In cold water.  Starving, we suffer thirst.

Smoke on horizons too high, too far for us
To signal, ships passing around us as currents
Drift us farther out of charted channels,
Our one surprise, an atoll, almost an island.

We call it Miracle, this speck of dust floating
In oceanic blind-eye nothingness.  Fresh water,
Coconut palms, crabs, fish, enough wild pigs
To let us husband a farm; we rejoice at life.

No way to reproduce, us few all males, no way
To further this society we have won; another
Cruel taunt of slightly-extended life.  Yet who
In any place is different?  Who is better off?

We’ll live a little, born of the sea, cast-offs with
Faded memories of loved faces, touches, places.
We’ll eke out a few more years, our last to find
A way to bury himself, perhaps at sea, fittingly.

Follow a trough to The Moon,
Its light a path through veils of mist,
Its shadowed side a lure for unimagined lusts;
Follow light to dark through depths surging.







Thursday, September 27, 2018

A Sorceress's Final Vision

by Ashley Dioses



                                                                   art by Jason Barnett




The icy moon above spilled light upon
Her skin of porcelain and lips of wine.
Her lavish locks of raven hair were drawn
Away in haste as she now searched her shrine
For signs of doom, yet they were quickly gone.

Her consecrated tools of such great power—
The chalice, wand, athame, and pentacle—
All failed the Sorceress in this late hour;
Anthropomancy, too, a spectacle

Even among grave robbers, had gone sour.
A horrid yet a fleeting glimpse of sights
Of burning reds aroused her from her sleep.
Remnants of it beplagued her like sharp bites
As on cold stones she hastened through her keep.

The phantom flames all vanished with a look;
Screams echoed down the empty corridors.
As she approached her dark, ensanguined book,
The fragments of the fleeting sight she bore
All disappeared; the text all blood had shook.

She scribed what little she remembered, yet
Her memories had vanished like stray wisps
Of mist that trailed away from dawn’s dim threat
Of daylight warmth, which cut the clear night’s crisp.

She stared upon her amethyst volume,
At such a loss as to what more to do.
It was not meant for her to see this doom—
Perhaps the Reaper would collect his due. . . .








  


Click Below to read the final poem in the
Dream & Reality issue of
the FREEZINE of
Fantasy and Science
Fiction

Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Midnight in the Ebon Rose Bower

by KA Opperman



                                                      art (as above, so below) by Jason Barnett






Why am I waking at this witchful hour?—
What succubus enspells with such a power
As to beguile this ebon-rosèd bower?   

I glimpse her nymphish form upon the air, 
A demoness mysterious and fair—    
A scarlet perfume-specter, starlight-rare.  

The roses whisper with their sleepy lips
Black phantasies.... The dew like diamonds drips
From petals played with by her swaying hips....

I ache to clutch her in nocturnal lust,
But I am thwarted as the burning gust
Of my own breath dispels her haunted dust.






on the FREEZINE of
Fantasy and Science
Fiction 

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Fear

by Hart Crane



                                                                                       illustration by Jason Barnett







The host, he says that all is well,  
And the fire-wood glow is bright;
The food has a warm and tempting smell,—
But on the window licks the night. 

Pile on the logs. . . . Give me your hands,
Friends! No,—it is not fright. . . . 
But hold me . . . somewhere I heard demands. . . . 
And on the window licks the night. 








on the FREEZINE of
Fantasy and Science
Fiction  

Archive of Stories
and Authors

Callum Leckie's
THE DIGITAL DECADENT


J.R. Torina's
ANTHROPOPHAGUS


J.R. Torina's
THE HOUSE IN THE PORT


J.R. Torina was DJ for Sonic Slaughter-
house ('90-'97), runs Sutekh Productions
(an industrial-ambient music label) and
Slaughterhouse Records (metal record
label), and was proprietor of The Abyss
(a metal-gothic-industrial c.d. shop in
SLC, now closed). He is the dark force
behind Scapegoat (an ambient-tribal-
noise-experimental unit). THE HOUSE
IN THE PORT is his first publication.

Sean Padlo's
NINE TENTHS OF THE LAW

Sean Padlo's
GRANDPA'S LAST REQUEST

Sean Padlo's exact whereabouts
are never able to be fully
pinned down, but what we
do know about him is laced
with the echoes of legend.
He's already been known
to haunt certain areas of
the landscape, a trick said
to only be possible by being
able to manipulate it from
the future. His presence
among the rest of us here
at the freezine sends shivers
of wonder deep in our solar plexus.


Konstantine Paradias & Edward
Morris's HOW THE GODS KILL


Konstantine Paradias's
SACRI-FEES

Konstantine Paradias is a writer by
choice. At the moment, he's published
over 100 stories in English, Japanese,
Romanian, German, Dutch and
Portuguese and has worked in a free-
lancing capacity for videogames, screen-
plays and anthologies. People tell him
he's got a writing problem but he can,
like, quit whenever he wants, man.
His work has been nominated
for a Pushcart Prize.

Edward Morris's
ONE NIGHT IN MANHATTAN


Edward Morris's
MERCY STREET

Edward Morris is a 2011 nominee for
the Pushcart Prize in literature, has
also been nominated for the 2009
Rhysling Award and the 2005 British
Science Fiction Association Award.
His short stories have been published
over a hundred and twenty times in
four languages, most recently at
PerhihelionSF, the Red Penny Papers'
SUPERPOW! anthology, and The
Magazine of Bizarro Fiction. He lives
and works in Portland as a writer,
editor, spoken word MC and bouncer,
and is also a regular guest author at
the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival.


Tim Fezz's
BURNT WEENY SANDWICH

Tim Fezz's
MANY SILVERED MOONS AGO

Tim Fezz hails out of the shattered
streets of Philly destroying the air-
waves and people's minds in the
underground with his band OLD
FEZZIWIG. He's been known to
dip his razor quill into his own
blood and pen a twisted tale
every now and again. We are
delighted to have him onboard
the FREEZINE and we hope
you are, too.

Daniel E. Lambert's
DEAD CLOWN AND MAGNET HEAD


Daniel E. Lambert teaches English
at California State University, Los
Angeles and East Los Angeles College.
He also teaches online Literature
courses for Colorado Technical
University. His writing appears
in Silver Apples, Easy Reader,
Other Worlds, Wrapped in Plastic
and The Daily Breeze. His work
also appears in the anthologies
When Words Collide, Flash It,
Daily Flash 2012, Daily Frights
2012, An Island of Egrets and
Timeless Voices. His collection
of poetry and prose, Love and
Other Diversions, is available
through Amazon. He lives in
Southern California with his
wife, poet and author Anhthao Bui.

Phoenix's
AGAIN AND AGAIN

Phoenix has enjoyed writing since he
was a little kid. He finds much import-
ance and truth in creative expression.
Phoenix has written over sixty books,
and has published everything from
novels, to poetry and philosophy.
He hopes to inspire people with his
writing and to ask difficult questions
about our world and the universe.
Phoenix lives in Salt Lake City, Utah,
where he spends much of his time
reading books on science, philosophy,
and literature. He spends a good deal
of his free time writing and working
on new books. The Freezine of Fant-
asy and Science Fiction welcomes him
and his unique, intense vision.
Discover Phoenix's books at his author
page on Amazon. Also check out his blog.

Adam Bolivar's
SERVITORS OF THE
OUTER DARKNESS


Adam Bolivar's
THE DEVIL & SIR
FRANCIS DRAKE



Adam Bolivar's
THE TIME-EATER


Adam Bolivar is an expatriate Bostonian
who has lived in New Orleans and Berkeley,
and currently resides in Portland, Oregon
with his beloved wife and fluffy gray cat
Dahlia. Adam wears round, antique glasses
and has a fondness for hats. His greatest
inspirations include H.P. Lovecraft,
Jack tales and coffee. He has been
a Romantic poet for as long as any-
one can remember, specializing in
the composition of spectral balladry,
utilizing to great effect a traditional
poetic form that taps into the haunted
undercurrents of folklore seldom found
in other forms of writing.
His poetry has appeared on the pages
of such publications as SPECTRAL
REALMS and BLACK WINGS OF
CTHULHU, and a poem of his,
"The Rime of the Eldritch Mariner,"
won the Rhysling Award for long-form
poetry. His collection of weird balladry
and Jack tales, THE LAY OF OLD HEX,
was published by Hippocampus Press in 2017.


Sanford Meschkow's
INEVITABLE

Sanford Meschkow is a retired former
NYer who married a Philly suburban
Main Line girl. Sanford has been pub-
lished in a 1970s issue of AMAZING.
We welcome him here on the FREE-
ZINE of Fantasy and Science Fiction.


Owen R. Powell's
NOETIC VACATIONS

Little is known of the mysterious
Owen R. Powell (oftentimes referred
to as Orp online). That is because he
usually keeps moving. The story
Noetic Vacations marks his first
appearance in the Freezine.

Gene Stewart
(writing as Art Wester)
GROUND PORK


Gene Stewart's
CRYPTID'S LAIR

Gene Stewart is a writer and artist.
He currently lives in the Midwest
American Wilderness where he is
researching tales of mystical realism,
writing ficta mystica, and exploring
the dark by casting a little light into
the shadows. Follow this link to his
website where there are many samples
of his writing and much else; come
explore.

Daniel José Older's
GRAVEYARD WALTZ


Daniel José Older's
THE COLLECTOR


Daniel José Older's spiritually driven,
urban storytelling takes root at the
crossroads of myth and history.
With sardonic, uplifting and often
hilarious prose, Older draws from
his work as an overnight 911 paramedic,
a teaching artist & an antiracist/antisexist
organizer to weave fast-moving, emotionally
engaging plots that speak whispers and
shouts about power and privilege in
modern day New York City. His work
has appeared in the Freezine of Fantasy
and Science Fiction, The ShadowCast
Audio Anthology, The Tide Pool, and
the collection Sunshine/Noir, and is
featured in Sheree Renee Thomas'
Black Pot Mojo Reading Series in Harlem.
When he's not writing, teaching or
riding around in an ambulance,
Daniel can be found performing with
his Brooklyn-based soul quartet
Ghost Star. His blog about the
ridiculous and disturbing world
of EMS can be found here.


Paul Stuart's
SEA?TV!


Paul Stuart is the author of numerous
biographical blurbs written in the third
person. His previously published fiction
appears in The Vault of Punk Horror and
His non-fiction financial pieces can be found
in a shiny, west-coast magazine that features
pictures of expensive homes, as well as images
of women in casual poses and their accessories.
Consider writing him at paul@twilightlane.com,
if you'd like some thing from his garage. In fall
2010, look for Grade 12 Trigonometry and
Pre-Calculus -With Zombies.


Rain Grave's
MAU BAST


Rain Graves is an award winning
author of horror, science fiction and
poetry. She is best known for the 2002
Poetry Collection, The Gossamer Eye
(along with Mark McLaughlin and
David Niall Wilson). Her most
recent book, Barfodder: Poetry
Written in Dark Bars and Questionable
Cafes, has been hailed by Publisher's
Weekly as "Bukowski meets Lovecraft..."
in January of 2009. She lives and
writes in San Francisco, performing
spoken word at events around the
country. 877-DRK-POEM -




Blag Dahlia's
armed to the teeth
with LIPSTICK



BLAG DAHLIA is a Rock Legend.
Singer, Songwriter, producer &
founder of the notorious DWARVES.
He has written two novels, ‘NINA’ and
‘ARMED to the TEETH with LIPSTICK’.


G. Alden Davis's
THE FOLD


G. Alden Davis wrote his first short story
in high school, and received a creative
writing scholarship for the effort. Soon
afterward he discovered that words were
not enough, and left for art school. He was
awarded the Emeritus Fellowship along
with his BFA from Memphis College of Art
in '94, and entered the videogame industry
as a team leader and 3D artist. He has over
25 published games to his credit. Mr. Davis
is a Burningman participant of 14 years,
and he swings a mean sword in the SCA.
He's also the best friend I ever had. He
was taken away from us last year on Jan
25 and I'll never be able to understand why.
Together we were a fantastic duo, the
legendary Grub Bros. Our secret base
exists on a cross-hatched nexus between
the Year of the Dragon and Dark City.
Somewhere along the tectonic fault
lines of our electromagnetic gathering,
shades of us peel off from the coruscating
pillars and are dropped back into the mix.
The phrase "rest in peace" just bugs me.
I'd rather think that Greg Grub's inimitable
spirit somehow continues evolving along
another manifestation of light itself, a
purple shift shall we say into another
phase of our expanding universe. I
ask myself, is it wishful thinking?
Will we really shed our human skin
like a discarded chrysalis and emerge
shimmering on another wavelength
altogether--or even manifest right
here among the rest without their
even beginning to suspect it? Well
people do believe in ghosts, but I
myself have long been suspicious
there can only be one single ghost
and that's all the stars in the universe
shrinking away into a withering heart
glittering and winking at us like
lost diamonds still echoing all their
sad and lonely songs fallen on deaf
eyes and ears blind to their colorful
emanations. My grub brother always
knew better than what the limits
of this old world taught him. We
explored past the outer peripheries
of our comfort zones to awaken
the terror in our minds and keep
us on our toes deep in the forest
in the middle of the night. The owls
led our way and the wilderness
transformed into a sanctuary.
The adventures we shared together
will always remain tattooed on
the pages of my skin. They tell a
story that we began together and
which continues being woven to
this very day. It's the same old
story about how we all were in
this together and how each and
every one of us is also going away
someday and though it will be the far-
thest we can manage to tell our own
tale we may rest assured it will be
continued like one of the old pulp
serials by all our friends which survive
us and manage to continue
the saga whispering in the wind.

Shae Sveniker's
A NEW METAPHYSICAL STUDY
REGARDING THE BEHAVIOR
OF PLANT LIFE


Shae is a poet/artist/student and former
resident of the Salt Pit, UT, currently living
in Simi Valley, CA. His short stories are on
Blogger and his poetry is hosted on Livejournal.


Nigel Strange's
PLASTIC CHILDREN


Nigel Strange lives with his wife and
daughter, cats, and tiny dog-like thing
in their home in California where he
occasionally experiments recreationally
with lucidity. PLASTIC CHILDREN
is his first publication.