Illustration by Eric Gross

Barbie Wilde is beloved by the horror world for her role as a female cenobite in Clive Barker’s Hellraiser II. She also appeared in Death Wish III (Charles Bonson)and Grizzly II: The Predator (George Clooney, Charlie Sheen, and Laura Dern). Barbie has also contributed short stories to several anthologies. Her newest offering as an author is the dark crime fiction novel The Venus Complex.

As someone who was a shy and nervous kid, what advice would you offer to others inclined to that?

In my own case, I probably overcompensated a bit by becoming an actress, which doesn’t work for everyone — for obvious reasons! Also, I tried to confront my fears head on, like going skydiving twice — in the hope of overcoming my fear of heights and flying. It didn’t work, but at least I can say that I went skydiving.

I think the most important thing is to face your fears and realize that not everyone is out to get you, or that not everyone hates you, etc. (I am a bit paranoid, so it’s important for me to come to terms with these realizations.)

As an early reader do you remember what your very first favorite story was?

I can’t remember the very first story, but it probably had a horse in it somewhere. (I remember being totally traumatized by Black Beauty.) I do remember reading all the Sherlock Holmes stories at a very young age. I also read virtually all of Edgar Rice Burroughs books: John Carter of Mars, Pellucidar, Carson of Venus and Tarzan. Wonderfully imaginative stuff. However, my mother was a bit perturbed when I discussed what a bordello was with her when I was nine years old! ERB was a bit racy for his time…

How do you think you have changed most as an individual since your earliest days?

I’m more confident in myself and my abilities. I’m also not nervous about meeting new people, as I have to do it at conventions all the time.

Do you have any interesting stories from the set that you might share with our readers?

Image Animation has put up some old “behind the scenes” video footage on Youtube of Simon Bamford doing the Can-Can in his Butterball costume and me singing Mein Herr from Cabaret in full Cenobite makeup, while Nicko (Chatterer) Vince laughs up a storm and Doug Bradley is wearing a very fetching leotard. We had to amuse ourselves somehow, I guess!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WOL9tVSQWUY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PC9eMyayZfQ

Is there any one role you enjoyed more than others? Why do you think that is?

I really enjoyed hosting TV programs, interviewing music and film stars and reviewing movies. Being myself on TV basically. I never was that comfortable being an actress. I was always so worried about remembering my lines. In many ways, that’s why I became a mime artist.

However, portraying the Female Cenobite was such an iconic role that I’ll always cherish the opportunity to play her.

Was it fun getting to play a cenobite?

I think the true fun of being a cenobite is meeting the fans 25 years later, who still appreciate and respect a small cult British horror film after all this time.

When you’re actually on set, your mind is taken up with the lengthy makeup and costume process, learning lines, hitting your mark, not bumping into the furniture, etc. As well as making sure the props don’t bump into you! I remember one scene where we were all surrounded by heavy swinging anchor chains. Doug was hit by one, which knocked off one of his pins. Luckily it was knocked off, not in. Nicko was later hooked in the mouth by a chain with a hook on the end of it.

Why do you think the Hellraiser series has become so iconic? Did you ever imagine when you first got the part that it would become as popular as it has?

Hellraiser was created by one of the most imaginative and unique horror and fantasy authors of our time, Clive Barker. It’s not that surprising that his imagery and innovation has stood the test of time. Also, there is a lot of passion (misplaced, in Julia’s case) in the first two Hellraiser films.

What led you to first try your hand at writing?

I’ve been writing for decades. I’ve always written stories and I kept a journal when I was young. In the 80’s, I was even writing sitcoms with a friend. (There were never produced, sadly.)

Do you have a dream project so to speak? Any subject you’d love to write about before you go?

 I’m co-writing a musical drama about love, violence and revenge, set in the ruins of post-War Marseille that I’d love to see get off the ground, either on stage or screen. I’d also like to see one of my horror or crime stories made into a movie…

How did it feel to release your first dark crime novel? What do you love most about the characters contained in its pages?

It’s an amazing feeling, holding that paperback for the first time, after waiting for a while to see it come to fruition. I’ve been gobsmacked by the positive response to The Venus Complex, so it was worth the wait to finally see it published. A big thanks to Comet Press for taking the plunge on a novel that has a lot of controversy surrounding it in terms of subject matter.

I love my characters for their honesty and their determination.

Cover of “The Venus Complex” by Daniele Serra

Why do you think the world has always been so fascinated with serial killers and the like?

Serial killers are the lone wolves of society, picking off the unwary, having no empathy, seeming to be uncatchable in many cases. We are all fascinated by the dark side. You only have to look at how popular Darth Vader was in Star Wars, Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs, and every single Bond villain. We love them, even while they plot to kill us. I couldn’t begin to explain the whys and wherefores of that attraction!

What projects are you working on now?

My latest short horror story, A is for Alpdrück, is featured in the Demonologia Biblica Anthology, edited by Dean M Drinkel. It’s now out on all the Amazons. I’ve just finished another story called Zulu Zombies for an anthology called The Bestiarum Vocabulum (also edited by Dean) for Western Legends Press. And I’ve got a short crime story called Beauty and the Skell out in the autumn in The Screaming Book of Crime (Screaming Dreams). I’m also working with Eric Gross to create a Pandoric dedicated to Sister Cilice, the character I created for my short story of the same name that was featured in the Hellbound Hearts Anthology. You can find out more here:

http://followers-of-the-pandorics.com/the-toy-makers/philippe-august-rene-lemarchand/the-cilicium-pandoric/

And I regularly update my website, so check there for the latest news, reviews and interviews: www.barbiewilde.com

If you had that chance to choose your famous last words what do you think you’d like them to be?

 I’ll have to quote Woody Allen on this one: “I’m not scared of dying. I just don’t want to be there when it happens…”

Photo by David Preutz

Half a Lotus

This girl is a godless godhead. She lives in India and follows a trail that her words make. She spreads a gospel that no one understands, yet lingers over. If they disagree, she stretches the smirk of the all-knowing and continues preaching. Her language is old and reeks of the Bhagavad-Gita. She can quote an ancient legend that is untraceable. She wanders over a land that encompasses nothing of a past she embodies like a country.

She could steal 100 wallets and three leather jackets from a leather shop in less time than it took to sew up a loose button or say nine times “a stitch in time saves nine.” She used to cart off an espresso machine and a juicer from a kitchen shop faster than it took a shop owner to look right through her.

An Ayurvedic astrologer told her that she was a child of India. Is a girl born in Indiana a mistake of just two letters on a Scrabble board?

She did not own businesses that went bankrupt. She did save an old woman from the blackness of memory and loneliness. She did not take out loans from banks and shaft every partner she ever worked with. A lien may have been put on her property when she departed. That is the karma of those left behind. She moves forward and there is not a wisp of her when she looks back.

She can do half a lotus and cry for hours through a night that whispers of capitalism and exile. Her eyes are swollen and red. They speak of days, months of silent sobbing, but she tells the families she lives with that she has been up all night meditating. She can walk to the market and back without shoes.

She grew up playing football. She wore torn up sneakers and told people to “Fuck off.” She was born on land that corn was familiar with. She did every drug she could get her hands on. This was the godless godhead. A place where no bad thoughts troubled to grow. It was a voidless history of mushrooms, LSD and getting laid.

She gave up bad haircuts and sweatpants for saris. She steals a trinket now and again to keep in practice. She can hold someone’s attention for more than two hours before they start yawning. She is getting a visa to stay in India for years. It is a place where she is who she is. There are no expectations of a white face with blackened feet.

She used to hear the word “crazy” and laughed. The world of Prozac was mocking her? She detects far deeper voices rasping from the mouths of infants in India. She only has to listen to them calling to know which dirt she stands on.

For most of her life she was married to hatred. She had boils lanced off of her back. She smacked a man in the face more than once for saying something intolerable.  Now, she lets the boils come and go. When she fights with a family, she just moves on. This is a land of empty bowls and open doors.

People speak of family in India and ask her about her family. She tells them her mother died and she has a daughter. She held her mother’s dead body. She bathed her mother in tap water in Indiana and dressed her in lavender and chartreuse.

In India she walked around for a week covered in her mother’s ashes and then bathed in the Ganges like the holy ones.

Every night when she rocks and cries she sees her daughter in someone else’s arms and a land of opportunity that betrayed her. She is business savvy and spends hours each day with a storekeeper telling him how to bring in more money to his shop or café. She talks him into hiring her for only a meal or two each day. Her needs are few now. He believes he can’t live without her, until one day he discovers he can’t live with her.

She storms out of each town with dirty feet, a necklace or some silk fabric stuffed down the front of her sari and a mantra of peace and prosperity on her lips. There are other towns and other words to fill up those vast cavities of loss.

For more information and another example of Meg’s work please see: The Total Eclipse of a Life Too Toxic to Look Directly Into

Mell Corcoran is a groundbreaking mystery writer and creator of a series called Shadows. Her latest offering, Shadows of Doubt, is a mystery/thriller that challenges your every perception and shakes the marrow of your bones. With themes that could just as well be classified as paranormal mysteries, this book is sure to blow the minds of mystery readers of all genres.  A Southern California native, Mell has a professional background in law, a love of animals, and a deep sense of family. I caught up with her recently to find out a little more about the things that inspire her creativity.

http://www.mellcorcoran.com/

Can you tell us a little more about yourself? What were you like as a child?  What was it like growing up in Southern California?

Looking back, I was always an imaginative and creative little girl. I made jewelry out of copper wire, sticks and twigs became swords. I made clothes for all my dolls and each one had some long history that I concocted. Living in Southern California we have always been blessed with excellent weather so I spent endless hours outside playing, making mud pies or digging a hole to China or some other such silliness. My first friend, aside from my sister, was the little boy up the street so I could swing from playing mystical princess to Army Ranger seamlessly. My childhood was simple and happy.

Do you happen to remember what you very first favorite story was?

The first story that springs to mind is Charlotte’s Web. I received a copy as a gift when I was very young and to this day I still have the protective plastic wrap on it, I was so in awe of getting my very own hardcover book like the grown-ups had. That is probably where I got started refusing to squish spiders.

You have said your mother is your best friend. Do you consider yourself lucky to enjoy such a closeness?

I am more than lucky, I am truly blessed to have such an amazing relationship with my mother. I was not always an easy kid and I did my fair share of rebelling. Fortunately, my mother is an amazingly strong and supportive person and stuck to her guns with me. Ultimately, I snapped out of it and turned out OK. Looking back only makes me admire and value her friendship more.

Did she encourage your love of written word from early on?

Absolutely. Books were equally as important as any doll or toy when I was little. My mother has always been an avid reader so I probably mimicked her to a great extent in the early years. I remember the day she took me to the local library for the first time. I can even remember the smell this very moment. It was like walking into some sacred cathedral and she instilled it being a very special place right off the bat. I couldn’t wait to be old enough to get my own library card.

How do you think she has influenced you most over the course of your life?

My mother sacrificed a lot for my sister and I when we were young. She gave up a great deal and worked tirelessly to make sure we had everything we needed. Even when things were really bad, she protected us and made us feel safe. Looking back I can say that her grace and strength inspired me. Her sense of humor definitely rubbed off on me which many would probably argue, is not necessarily a good thing. We are a little warped.

Did you also have a love of animals from early on? Do you think people should be taught to respect all living things from an early age?

I’ve always been an animal lover. Animals and insects have always fascinated me and in retrospect, I think I always looked at most creatures as equals, rather than lesser beings. As I grew up, when I became aware of how some cultures view all life as sacred, it just made sense to me. Everyone has their own belief system, it’s all a matter of faith but to me, you never know. I might come back as that moth or beetle and I would want someone to save me, not squish me. I am constantly razzed for this particular quirk of mine. I have been known to stop traffic at a busy intersection to help a mouse cross the street. We all need a hand sometimes, creatures too!

I think our society is sorely lacking respect these days. Respect for our elders, for those that sacrifice so much so that we may enjoy our rights and freedoms. Animals, humans, all life is sacred and deserves the utmost respect. I am honestly not sure how we as a civilized society are going to get back to these basics with our youth. Kids are more and more desensitized to the value of life these days. It is something I think about a lot, actually.

Does your background in law help any in your writing work?

It absolutely helps with the research aspect. I want plausibility, regardless of how fantastical something may be. I dig for threads that are factually accurate so that hopefully my readers think twice rather than dismissing things as pure fiction. I truly believe researching the facts and building a solid foundation is critical in presenting one’s case in law as well as one’s story.

What led you to be a writer instead?

I’ve written things forever. Poems, songs, short stories. Writing has always been a constant in my life, even though it was for personal pleasure rather than a career. Once upon a time I believed in our legal system with a fierce passion. Some of the most beautiful writing can be found in this Nation’s founding documents. Sadly, as in nearly every profession these days, the spirit of the law has sagged and taken a back seat to winning at all costs. Dollar figures dictate more than principal and I didn’t want to grow bitter with my work so I slowly walked away. I am truly much happier for it and think I am a nicer person than I used to be. But that is a matter of opinion. You’d have to ask my family for confirmation on that one.

Why did you choose to write mysteries?

I think loving mysteries is genetic in my family. My mother, my uncles and aunts, we all are huge mystery lovers. I remember my first Nancy Drew novel and talking with my mother about “who dunnit” so writing mysteries just was the natural course for me.

Why do you the world has always enjoyed a good mystery?

I think it’s the solving of the puzzle combined with the primal desire for good to triumph over evil. Everyone can connect with those basic elements in one way or another. Reading mysteries gives the reader a way to connect with a hero on a uniquely personal level, live the challenge in one’s mind without the risk. Honestly, who hasn’t dreamed of being the detective or the superhero and saving the day?

How did the story for Shadows of Doubt come to be?

Writing a novel has always been on my “bucket list”. At the end of 2010 my family had a crisis that made me take a long look at my life and re-prioritize. Writing the book rose to the top of things I wanted to get done and by April 2011 the first draft was finished.

The original idea for the book was nothing like the final product. I did have the opening line of the prologue whispering in my head for a couple years before I finally sat down to write. Other than that, most everything in Shadows of Doubt is entirely different than what I planned. When I began writing, the story became organic, it took on a life of it’s own.

Were the supernatural elements in this story intentional?

I think so. I know that is a strange answer but let me qualify myself.

While I am a huge fan of paranormal fiction, I really wanted to write something that felt real, that everyone could connect to on some level and at some point think “Hmm, that might be possible, it could happen.” Take the Incredible Hulk for example. Stan Lee took something that might happen and pushed it to an incredible and unlikely scenario with the radiation exposure and such. Scientifically we know that certain exposures can cause anomalies. What if? And why do they always have to be negative? I have never bought into the classic Bram Stoker version of vampires and frankly, the whole no reflection, no sunlight, undead blood thirsty monster stereotype always seemed silly to me. No self respecting adult buys into that, right? That’s pure fiction. But, what if?  What if there was a reasonable explanation for a condition that was not so impossible? Genetic mutations are fact, not fiction. So, who knows, right?

What are your feelings on such things?

I am a simple mortal human who, in the grand scheme of things, knows exactly nothing. Once upon a time civilization thought the world was flat, right? Now we see pictures taken from outer space. I believe anything and everything is possible. Until I personally experience hard cold fact proof that something is not true, I always leave the door open for possibilities.

Are there any little known things about yourself that you’d not mind sharing with our readers?

That’s a tough question. I am sure there are a ton of little things, most of which probably shouldn’t be shared with the public at large. Maybe the fact that I am a sucker for corny jokes? My favorite of all time is: What did the snail say while riding on the turtle’s back?

“Weeeeeeeeee!”

Get it? He was going so fast riding the turtle? I love that joke. It always makes me smile.

Is there one subject you’d most like to cover in your work that you have yet to?

I don’t know yet. (smiles) I’ve learned not to plan what I write so it’s hard to say where the story will take me until the fonts appear. I suppose I have a tendency to touch upon the human conflicts we all face once or twice in our lives. Love, loss, loyalty, the internal struggle between what we want to do and what we need to do. Other then that, it’s hard to predict where my mind will wander. We will have to wait and find out.

As a woman what advice would you leave the women of tomorrow?

Be patient. Men can’t help the way they are. I’m kidding, sort of. Seriously though, my advice would be to never let the fact that you are a woman ever be an issue. Honestly, the only time I think about it is when I am deciding what to wear. Poor boys, they are so limited.

What would you say you consider to be the most important thing a person can take out of this thing called life?

Appreciation. Really knowing and valuing all the good stuff a person has had in their life is really all we get to take with us when we go. Truly loving, laughing, being in each moment as best as you can before you simply can’t any longer is what I feel is truly important in life. Don’t get me wrong, there will always be stress and garbage to deal with but that is not the stuff you need to hang on to. Those things are negative space. I prefer to focus on the positive spaces that make me smile instead.

Why do you think the world has always been so fascinated by death?

I think it’s the classic fear of the unknown. Perhaps with a sprinkling of the taboo. For instance, when we are very young and we see that flame in the fire for the first time, our parents yell “Hot! Don’t touch!” What child do you know never tests that and get’s burned once or twice? For whatever reason, we don’t know what death really holds. It is the one true absolute mystery in life that I don’t know will ever be solved. We as human beings are inherently curious creatures so it’s only natural that in some way or another we are fascinated by death. Although in some cases I’m not sure about the word “fascinated” but to wonder is only natural.

What projects are you currently working on?

Right now I am finishing up the next book in the series of Shadows. It’s about 99% done but I need to let the ending reveal itself. After that, book 3 will start popping up in my little brain and I’ll get to work on that one.

Anything else you’d like add?

I don’t think so! I hope this interview gives my readers an opportunity to get to know me a little better but I’m not sure that’s a good thing either! (grins) I thank you for the opportunity and your thoughtful questions. It has been a true pleasure.

“The Holy Grail” by Dante Gabriel Rosetti, c. 1860

A Flick of The Grail 

And God’s green birth, seeded,
Falls from the apple tree of the sun;
The yellowing edges of the Holy Book
Shades windows from the outside
As they brighten its pages from within.

The ink is drying the tears in your eyes.

This green seed Earth, buried
Beneath layers of sound, vibrates
In between its separateness from the sun
And the shadow of the moon. In the heart

Of this sound thicket,
The green seed is seen by the spacious
Sun through the window

Where, in the star-dusted haze,
A rising solar ship’s mercurial antenna
Takes time into the past.

Please see here for more information on the work of Mark Fleury.

Man with His Skin

Peter Zokosky trained at the Otis Art Institute in Los Angeles. He has also studied cadavers in much the same way as Leonardo da Vinci, which enables him to recreate anatomy on canvas in a way few could imitate. His work has appeared in countless solo and group exhibitions. Peter has taught at the J. Paul Getty Museum and several other establishments. He is currently an instructor of Anatomy for Artists at California State, Long Beach. It was an honor to sit down with him to find more about the man behind the imagery.

http://www.peterzokosky.com/

For more examples of Peter’s work please also see: The Art of Peter Zokosky

Is true you peeled back the layers of a dead bird to learn more about its anatomy? Why do you think anatomy has fascinated you since an early age?

I recall, very clearly, an early obsession with things unseen and a desire to not only understand hidden forces, but to see them. Seeing and understanding went together and for me, they still do.  Anatomy continues to amaze me, the idea that something that is physical; bone sinew, tissue, can get up and walk around, and that it can exhibit consciousness is very exciting, mysterious, and weird.

Diligent Ape

What were you like as a child? What are some of your fondest memories from that time?

 I understand I was affectionate and pretty happy. I loved my family and spent a lot of time with my grandmother, who was very patient. I also didn’t mind being alone. I would draw and build things constantly. My sister was punished by being sent to her room, my parents quickly realized that punishment didn’t work on me; hours later they would find me drawing trees or staging battles between my legion of plastic monsters. We had a boat, and it was exhilarating to be sailing over the ocean. We also had two monkeys, and they would careen between manic and gentle.

Did you always have a love for creative things?

My parents were both artists and it was just part of our life. We had art supplies, and mom and dad would draw and paint. It was natural and I loved making things. Perhaps when you have those opportunities early on, you get a taste for the magic that art adds to your life.

Who are some of your influences?

 Lots of it came from my parents and the art they would introduce us to. I remember looking at Gruenwald reproductions, Gustave Dore engravings, Basil Wolverton, Howard Pyle, the most profound influences were rather fantastic, ornate and even grotesque. I definitely leaned that way, I remember thinking Whistler was boring and Picasso was stupid, and that he couldn’t draw well.

I read somewhere that you often found yourself alone on excursions to the morgue during your art classes because most of the others didn’t care for the company of the dead. Do you find it peaceful to be among the dead? Why do you think most of the world is so afraid to actually see death? What do you find most fascinating about it?

 I suppose my desire to see what we’re made of was stronger than my sense of repulsion. My first encounter with dissected bodies disturbed me somewhat, mortality is very real when you see, smell, and touch what’s left of us. I guess it’s natural to be put off by the idea of death, it keeps us clinging to what we know.

What are your own feelings and death and such? Do you believe it is a final end or that there is more to be seen?

I don’t think that I have any great insight. I think it’s likely that consciousness, like nitrogen, calcium, and everything else, is broken up, scattered, and eventually reconfigured. It doesn’t disappear, but it doesn’t stay intact either.

You have said that, “We’ll all be dead soon, so let’s experience the joy of being animated meat for these 70 years.” Do you think most people tend to forget that(that we’ll all be dead soon)? What do you enjoy most about living?

 The fact that life is finite does make it precious. Of course there is suffering, pain and struggle, but it’s a magnificent struggle, and there’s just so much potential for experience, the horrid and the beautiful all mixed together. I suppose I feel most alive, and most conscious when I’m savoring the moment as it is happening.

Camel

Do people seem find your curiosity a little morbid?

Possibly, but it rarely comes up. I forget that what I enjoy can be off-putting to some, but I can’t worry about that.

Is there one subject you love to cover more than others?

It’s a big subject, and extends into every realm, and that would be duality, or more precisely, the union of opposites. The fact that duality is part of everything makes it an essential part of creative expression. To present just one side of existence, whether it’s comforting or disturbing, it’s just half the story. For life, and art, to be complete both sides have to coexist.

Siren

You have also said that the power that emanates from women is amazing to witness. Can you explain that a little further?

It’s not that I see women as exotic magical beings, but I do love and admire them. Perhaps it goes back to the duality issue and the fact that the other side is essential.

What do you find makes a person the most beautiful to behold? Do you think it goes deeper than what be seen on the surface?

 I’m fascinated by the science of beauty, the notion that beauty can be measured, quantified, and analyzed is compelling, symmetry and health, hip to waist ratios, pheromones, all of that is great, but there’s still the great mystery, those things that science cannot adequately explain. I’m a big fan of science, and I think we should do our best to understand everything, but I see no risk in undermining the great mystery, it will always be there, after the explanations run out.

Attraction

What led you to become a teacher? Do you enjoy having the chance to teach others how to hone their skills?

Teaching opportunities came about naturally. I learned that I love teaching and that I seem to have an aptitude for it. I have to admit, I really like people, and I enjoy a structured setting where an exchange of information happens. I prefer a classroom to a cocktail party.

Are there any little known things about you that you’d not mind sharing with our readers?

 I’m AB negative, I can accept blood from anyone, but can only give it to another AB negative, but they can, of course, accept blood from anyone. If there’s a profound metaphor there, I haven’t figured it out yet.

Monkey Skeleton

What was the best advice anyone has ever gave you?

 “Think for yourself, and avoid crowds.” From my father, who lives it.

 Do you have a dream projects you’d most like to bring into being before your time is up? How do you hope to be remembered when your time comes? What would you like your last words to be if you had a say in that?

The trouble here is, I lack a sense of priorities. Every project I think of seems like it’s the greatest thing ever. Every week there’s a new idea that would take years to accomplish, and it always seems like it will be worth all the effort, but then, of course, a week goes by and there’s another “greatest thing ever” project. It’s likely that I’ll have way more unrealized dream projects than actual finished projects. I like to think there will be some good stuff left and my last words will be “I just need a little more time, since the greatest thing ever just came to me…”

 Anything else you’d like to say in closing?

I appreciate the opportunity to express some thoughts and I’m impressed that you, the reader, got this far. Thanks for your time, I hope it was interesting.

Tiger God and Forest Goddess

Panther and Peacock

Heaven’s Embrace

Claudia and Louis

Eros with a Crossbow (face detail)

Ganymede and the Eagle

Valerhon grew up in a small, remote Colorado town where he spent much of his free time reading ancient history and mythology. and writing stories of the worlds he dreamed up. Never serious about art his perspective changed in the 1990’s when he began writing and illustrating roleplay games, magazine articles and, collectible card games such as Alien vs. Predator, Babylon 5, Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time, and Tomb Raider among others.

He became a full time freelancer in 2007 creating digital paintings that have now become his trademark. He has worked with several well known photographers, transforming their works into a hybrid of realism and supernatural.

His favorite themes are mythology, religion, and transhumanist ideas. He currently resides in Phoenix, AZ in a house whose interior design is a mythic forest. He’s a huge fan of Calvin and Hobbes.

Pan with photographer Simon Barnes

Autumn’s Witch

Galadriel and Her Mirror

“The Way to Wealth”:  Twenty-First Century Edition

From the pen

of Ben

(Franklin, that is)

with the assistance of Poor Richard

“a Word to the Wise is enough”

(“I have sometimes quoted myself with great gravity”):

Drive thy Employees,

let not them drive thee

We have no Gains

without their Pains

Our To-day is worth their To-morrows

“Industry need not wish”

as long as there be such a thing as advertising,

thus it is

“The artificial Wants of Mankind thus become

more numerous than the natural”

and,

as a just result,

“God gives all Things to Industry”

“The [spying] Eye of a Master

will do more Work than both [your] Hands”;

even so

“be ashamed that a good Master should catch you idle”

“Be industrious and free;

be frugal and free”

“when you run into debt

You give to another

Power over your Liberty”

“rather go to Bed supperless than rise in Debt”

“you will no longer complain of bad times,

or

the Difficulty of paying Taxes”

They who won’t be so counselled,

can’t be helped

Michael Ceraolo is a 55-year old firefighter/paramedic/poet who has had one full-length book (Euclid Creek, from Deep Cleveland Press) and a few shorter-length books published, plus numerous magazine publications. This poem is  from his Twenty-First Century Editions, re-writings of various political, religious, and literary works for the twenty-first century.

Georgina Flood, 35, is a native of Dublin , Ireland. She lives there with her husband Gary and daughter Mia. Georgina is a self taught, graphite artist. Inspired by her Dad’s artistic skills, Georgina has had a lifetime ambition to be a portrait artist. Georgina made her debut in the U.S., in August, at the Chicago Fest for Beatles Fans. That was followed by a guest appearance at The Beatles Convention in Liverpool.

She donated an original of John and Yoko, “Love is Real”, for Yoko’s charity, City Meals on Wheels. Yoko’s awareness and acceptance of Georgina marked the third time that a Beatle – or in this case a spouse – has accepted her work. In 1998, Ringo accepted a portrait by Georgina, while onstage. His graciousness extended to asking Georgina to stand up and take a bow.

In 2011, Georgina was asked by a friend and author, to illustrate the cover of her book, written about Paul McCartney. McCartney can be seen in photos,accepting the book .

As Paul celebrated his 70th birthday this year, English rocker, Paul Weller (formerly of The Jam) covered The Beatles song, “Birthday”. Weller’s cover version was done for charity and appeared on both Apple iTunes and Amazon. Weller asked Georgina to use her work of Sir Paul,titled, “The Fool”, to be used as the cover art.

http://www.georginaflooddesigns.com/

Rumour’s Run

I ran.

Towns took me in, but never for more than a few days. The townspeople were generous, but they did not wish to harbor a fugitive from the horseman. I did not blame them. I would have done the same, in their position.

I saw slim girls swimming in a shallow pond. Their bright eyes, their angling backs, the archery of their bodies: the scene drew my interest. Their throats emitted shrieks: I thought, Pain! But no, this was not pain. The water grew red. I thought, Save them! Help them! But they refused my assistance even before I offered it, refused without even knowing of my presence in the hedges. I stalked off, and they never saw me. The horseman was quick on my trail. I heard their screams behind me, and I thought, Joy! I did not turn to confirm this; in retrospect I regret the lapse.

I thought, Apocalypse has come! For some of the cities were in ruins. But then there were the thriving metropoli to thwart my theory. Yet——I knew Armageddon was biding,—in the despairless throngs, in the grim mouths of the streets through which throbbed the tired traffic tongues, in the rust squeals of the mayors’ bones, in the satisfaction of the winos, in the writhing rainbow skies of twilight. The cities slept by day, and at night arose in hideous bodies, syphilitic, asthmatic, languid and shuddering weak, but strong enough to stroke their organs, to climax in the dawn, to fade (gratefully) into that fitful sunlit slumber. The cities did not take me in, nor expel me. But they answered the horseman’s queries as to my whereabouts, to the best of their knowledge: they saw no profit in protecting me, and possibly feared the horseman’s reprisal should they be less than honest. I did not blame them. I would have done the same, in their position.

I heard the hunt crashing through the brambles of the wood. I hid. Near me was a bleeding boy. He gasped and shook, and the galloping blasts of firearms in the distance shocked and swept him swooning. I took the boy up in my arms, and noted he was light. I carried him all night through the gaps between the trees, from gap to gap, traversing the gaps. The boy slept peacefully in my arms, and his blood stained my shirt, but it was old blood, for the bleeding had stopped. I licked his wound, confident he would not wake to my tongue. I found I enjoyed the taste of his blood, so I probed at the wound with the tip of my tongue until its seam burst and new blood seeped out. This invigorated me, and I traversed the gaps at a far greater pace. But the horseman was quick on my trail, and I dropped the boy. The boy still slept on the ground where he landed. I found a way out of the wood, and behind me I heard the horseman and the boy. I should not have dropped him. He may have had a sister, as I have a sister.

I stumbled into a vast network of caverns in which dwelt men with slight bodies, attenuated limbs, milky flesh. They fed me, and medicated and clothed me. Their bodies were so soft. I slept on them; they gladly played my mattress: it was their pleasure. As I slept, the softness of their bodies softened; a cool, liquescent soma flowed into my breath. My body filled with inhalations that weighed me to the rock and would not let me rise. When I awoke, perspiring and thirsty, I fell asleep again. When I awoke a second time, merely thirsty, I dipped my tongue in the puddle that had formed around me. I slept again, and rose refreshed. But I did not pause to enjoy my state; for I could hear the horseman in the tunnels now, and already my good health pursued the wane.

A mountain loomed in my way, and I began to climb. I did not stop to rest, not once, but plummeted inversely with the very gravity of the horseman, which sought to drag me back down that mountainside. When I reached the top, I discovered a cabin nestled in the rocks. A blind hermit lived there. He took me in. He did not demand I leave. I told him of the horseman, for I am honest, although fugitive. He laughed. He told me, I know of this horseman. I too have been in his clutches. I too have escaped. Suddenly, I felt uneasy. I told the hermit I could not stay. He told me, You will be safe here. The horseman will never reach here. I told the hermit I must leave. He grabbed at my arm, but I shook him off. He lunged at me, but since he was blind it was easy to evade him. I heard his howls for hours as I stumbled down the other side of the mountain. I did not blame him. I would have done the same, in his position.

I thought, Apocalypse has come! For before me, on a plain, armies were assembling for war. Flames serrated the horizon, and the sky was a spectrum from crimson to black. I walked through the encampments, and no one noticed me. A tearful woman performed a tracheatomy on a convulsing toddler. A naked boy beat a drum with his erect member before an audience of haggard men. An amputated soldier practiced swordplay. A priest tore his vestments on a protruding nail and cursed. Some of the tents were squirming. A dead whore lay in the street, and a crouching girl attempted to wrench some rings from the swollen fingers. The armies could be seen out on the field, beginning the engagement. I heard the metal sounds, and the ground sounds, and the throat sounds: they floated in on a gentle breeze of stench. Some hags were sweeping, some children brawling, some women popping bouillon cubes. Armageddon bided here. But I knew the horseman would come anyway.

I came into a valley where the dead lived. My mother approached me with welcoming arms. She did not speak, but implored me with her eyes. I spat in her face, and knew she was no one’s mother. You would have done the same, in my position.

I will not always run. Sometime, the horse will tire.

Yarrow Paisley lives in the Pioneer Valley of Western Massachusetts. His work has appeared in various and sundry places, online and in print. Honors of which he’s proud include having been nominated for prizes, having been translated into Portuguese, and serving as a Guest Editor for the online literary journal Gone Lawn. His website is http://yarrowpaisley.com.

(This piece originally ran in 3rd Bed.)

“Nocturne” by Antoine Pesne c. 1718

Nocturne

Dip your fingers into the cool darkness that winter has breathed upon us,
When each shivering star has come to seek you out
And the owls swivel their heads with lamp-lit eyes
…This will be our time-
Haunted too, soft spoken as moans that murmur secrets,
Vibrating sighs of drowsy content and of hours spent
Laid beside each other in the frosted earth-
I shall call you forth from sleep…. From fields of unknowing
Where each moment will have its hour, each mouth its kiss…
Where in some other unspoken territory my body has become yours,
And within the dark tide of the sky, we wear our nocturnal speech.

Lily Kurdach is a writer, a poet, an artist, oris one of these incarnations on most days. Much of her work can be found under the name “VampireLily”and is featured on her website, online, and in various rags that have been shoved under various couches and park benches through-out the United States. She digs public displays of humanity, cursing in public places and is a proud advocate of creative punctuation. She prefers darkness to light, a hard laugh over a weak cry and will take sharp wit over a dull comment on any day. Oh, and she loves to create and is grateful to all of the other people on this beautiful planet who love to create as well. Lily can be found at: http://www.VampireLily.com