#historical horror

[theatsthetic]

The Birds of Ballygáire.

thank you so much for reading. i appreciate it.

Special thanks to @terastrialbean for script editing & @junkohanhero for their wonderful typewriter fonts.

[horror-aesthete]

Over the Garden Wall, 2014, dir. Patrick McHale

SE01E001 The Old Grist Mill

[horygory]

Haxan (1922)

[sepulchrypha]

BOOK OF FERDINAND; FROM VERSES OF REVELATION

He is perched on the partition of earth and firmament; firmament and earth, confined, noble and abated, crowned by Liberty's flame. No king before Him to offer He his seat, and He none to offer. As He is, He shall be, til we are made good and sunder ourselves for His glory. No more for Him to speak beneath the dust of the earth, no more for us to be distant from Him.

[full-of-terrors]

Just watched A Field in England and now I'm wondering-

What is this sub-genre- this horror but let's be literary and metaphorical about it, Magical Realism for menTM, exploration of masculinity, courage, fate, and tragedy, descent into madness, historical fever dreams? Because whatever it is, I dig it. And A Field in England would go on the list along with The Lighthouse, Ravenous, The Seventh Seal, Aguirre, Brotherhood of the Wolf and of course the OG- AMC's The Terror.

[dyrewrites]

The Critic is now in charge of marketing.

Links to books:

Ebooks format only (itch.io)

Ebook and Print (for some)* (amazon)

What are they?

Well, they're all dark and uncomfortable, most are bloody, dreadful and more than a little gay...but for specifics;

Novella

*In Fog //queer horror romance An obsessive, bloody and violent tale heavy on questions of self and personhood.

Short Stories

Can't You See Me? //supernatural gothic horror First Person account of a ghost attempting to contact her family. Don't Look //supernatural body horror First Person account of a man dealing with an apartment that's not what he paid for. The Portrait //gothic historical horror A woman is terrorized by a portrait. *In the Marrow //gothic body horror A woman is haunted by the sound of crackling bones.

[ladzwriting]

SALT BRIDE: A Short Story, OUT NOW

Itch | Kindle

A 2,600-word gothic historical horror story about a seaside village who loses one of its fishers, and the woman left behind left to witness the ways the ocean provides for the people at its shores.

CONTENT WARNINGS

Gun violence, body horror, crabs, disappearance of a loved one, famine, and discussions of grief. Not intended for readers under 18.

[auilix]

A short horror to darken up your bright summer's day.

[dmardsanddaisies]

🤞🏻I don't want to be TOO ambitious and say without a doubt I'll finish 3 of these 4 books, however, I know I'll finish 2, ideally, early December. This month I'm going to get weird with some more cosmic, folk and psychological horror. 🖤 What two should I start first?!

[uradaltra]

This is what being a girl feels like

[theatsthetic]

The Birds of Ballygáire

A short film. (the comic format can be found here) (Watch it on Youtube)

Written & Illustrated by Aydin T. Sarami (that's me) Voice Acted by Elijah Jagne Script Edited by Tera Virgin @terastrialbean

Tox Typewriter font by Junkohanhero The End Credits Theme is Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out by Bessie Smith

[horror-aesthete]

Last Night in Soho, 2021, dir. Edgar Wright

[horygory]

Haxan (1922)

[shannonpurdyjones]

My short story, "The Honeysuckle Weave" has been published!

My horror/fantasy short story "The Honeysuckle Weave" has run in issue 20 of Grim and Gilded, an online magazine of fantasy, horror, and dark fiction.

Set in an isolated historic Appalachia, "The Honeysuckle Weave" is a story of what happens when a girl is pushed to her limit and has no choice but to save herself. Features a good bit of weaving history and lore (because that's where my mind is lately). I'm beyond excited to finally share this story with the world!

Follow the link below and scroll down to short stories to read!

Grim & Gilded issue 20, The Honeysuckle Weave by Shannon Purdy Jones

[dragonpreg]

Well, this is my first mpreg original story here! (disregarding the comics) I wrote some stories many years ago on Wattpad and Socialspirit but I put myself on a gap. But now I'm back with my mpreg stories! This story will have only two chapters: the first letter and the second letter. You can read the first chapter here: www.deviantart.com/dragonpreg/…

And yes, the story is in portuguese. I don't have a exact prediction of when the english version will come because my english is really basic, so I probably would take a while to translate all the story. But until this version is not ready yet, you can translate the page to read. I now, isn't the same, but it's what I can offer for now :D

[dyrewrites]

The Portrait -- Snippet

Unlike Miriam, the portrait would not be confined. It graced the space above her desk in the many studies she retreated to each evening, every study. It did not care how often she tore it from the walls and stuffed it into closet after closet, and in the fruit cellar, and the garden shed—or even at the bottom of the pond.

The portrait returned.

Always it returned, unmarred by her efforts, and Miriam swore its expression changed when it did. It was slight, as all her aunt’s had been, but it smirked. It held the ghost of a grin that pulled at the edges of those cruel lips. 

Miriam gave up on hiding it and, after stopping attendant after attendant on their monthly visit, she had to give up finding answers as well. When they answered, if they answered at all, they repeated the same pacifying nonsense. She asked, she begged, she fell to her knees in desperation and wept.

Still they repeated, “It is only nerves, miss, have a lie down and I’ll send for more tea.” 

“Nerves?” she asked them, and when the ragged sobs that followed earned her nothing, she shouted, “I need no rest or tea, I need someone else to witness the damned thing moving!” Miriam did not shout. Not in all her years had she so much as raised her voice—above the reserved volume of the ‘lady’ she was raised to be—and the sound of that voice so loud, so angry, frightened her more than the portrait. “Pardon me, I-I-”

She lost her words to their somber expressions and unblinking eyes but, before she could recover them, the attendants bowed. They consoled her with firm but gentle hands, ushering her to a lavish settee and assured her again that it had been her nerves. Miriam believed them then, against all sense she believed them, and she tried to put it out of her mind.

...