The klaxons blared in the creeping fog of the neon demon night...

[The Shaman]

All the newspapers are in the last tongue. Babel's Tounge. Incomprehensible to all, but understood on the bowel level.

Perfect for bathroom reading.

 

[Darrin Drader]

Hop, hop, hop went the deft and soaking foetus. Nobody suspected they would one day eat quail.

 

[Tobold Hornblower]

Ahhhhhh. Smell the fresh country air.

...but something...

something. is. not. right. here...

 

[Nightdawn]

Staredown with coleslaw.






Now, I truly know why the magi fear the awesome and terrible power of Tile Grout.

 

[The Traveler]

The Syphillis Saint shared the black grail of her loins with her flock as she granted them passage into the inner mysteries of the Tabernacle of Absolution.

Below 23rd street the hive thrummed and buzzed, workers following a phermone trail, mandibles clicking out a hypnotic tattoo, a binary aria to the brood mother.

In a parking garage a child's chalk drawing drank blood, and hungered for more.

Betty told you before. She's always told you and you always forget.

One-two, buckle-my-shoe.

You won't forget this time, and the recollection will keep you up at night.

Three-four, shut-the-door.

You scratch your fingernails on the wall by your bed. They break and bleed and you spell out your mind's whorls and loops in crimson.

Five-six, pick-up-sticks.

Sweat plasters your shirt to your back. Your skin crawls as your gaze drifts to the mirror on the wall.

Seven-eight, lay-them-straight.

You bite your lip as you for the first time see the twisted geometries and writhing shapes of the Anunnaku.

Nine-ten, a-big-fat-hen.

Betty told you.

 

[Tobold Hornblower]

Something is quite WRONG!!!!1!!EleVeN

 

[Orblivia]

Deacon Rathsbane cursed the day his god abandonded him, hurling evidence of his phelgmatic nature onto the salted ground he shuffled in his chains.

 

[PowerWordDumb]

Officer Dominguez rushed down the near-deserted streets, barcely aware the cold rain had long since soaked him to the skin, and was now dutifully chilling him to the bone. This discomfort would be as nothing compared to what was coming. He had seen the signs, and he knew their import. The bitter irony of his longtime professional motto - 'To Serve and Protect' - was not lost on him, even now. The time was nigh, and while most of these fools were as unaware as ever, he would be ready... no matter what it cost him, or those who got in his way.

 

[maddman75]

The Lost Stranger looked into the mirror, the dim light of the filthy bulb illuminating his bloodstained face. It had been done. It had to be done. There was no choice, never any choice. They were returning, and when they come back into a world that had forgotten them nothing would ever remain the same again. He wiped the blood from his face and walked back into the center of the room, not looking at the body on the bed. He put his razor back in his pocket and listened to the night.

Cars in the distance. Footsteps here and there, quick and shallow, hoping to avoid notice from whatever lurked in the shadows. Most of all, he heard the chimes. When they strike twelve, then...then they will all see!

 

[Darrin Drader]

They came from around the world. They came from among the rich, the poor, the diseased, and the clean. They came following the scent of blood and the promise of glorious death under the chilling sun. They came to live, they came to die, they came to sing praises to the great and profane god beneath the cold gray waves. They were all fools. They were all food.