The first NightWhere novel is one of my favorite works of erotic horror, right up there with Clive Barker’s The Hellbound Heart and The House of BloodThe first NightWhere novel is one of my favorite works of erotic horror, right up there with Clive Barker’s The Hellbound Heart and The House of Blood by Wayne C. Rogers. It was graphic, disturbing, arousing, disgusting, and utterly fascinating, all at the same time. Field of Flesh, the sequel novella, provided an entertaining new perspective on the otherworldly BDSM club, but there’s no question it left me wanting more.
Fortunately, 5 years later, we have The Night Mother, a full-length novel, to tie it all together. This is a direct sequel to the first book, which means Selena, Mark, and Rae once again take center stage (alongside favorites like Sin-D and Damia), but it also follows along from the novella, so expect to see our noir detective appear in a surprising role.
Although he beautifully outdoes himself here with some of the S&M-themed depravities, what John Everson has done that’s even more important is delve deeper into the mythology of NightWhere – angels, demons, creation myths, immortality, and all. We’re led to understand who the players are and who they were, why the club has Guardians and Watchers, and what happens when mere mortals are elevated above their station. There are consequences – deadly serious, apocalyptic consequences – to this third story that go far beyond relationship dramas or the fate of individual souls. There’s a battle for the very heart of NightWhere, and if it all goes astray . . . well, let’s just say it would be bad news for us all.
As for those relationship dramas, Everson gives us layers of intertwined love stories, some dark and some light, but all damaged in some way. While it’s the pursuit of pleasure and pain that drive the club, it’s something more than drives lovers. We’re privy to the best and worst of their motivations, but even the romance and vengeance must sometimes take a back seat to those consequences I mentioned.
It should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway – The Night Mother is not for the squeamish or the prudish. There’s dark, violent, sadistic, necrophiliac sex on display here . . . the insertion of toys, blades, fists, and snakes . . . showers of blood . . . and the spilling of ungodly amounts of cum. It’s brutal and messy, but also beautiful in its own way. There’s more than one scene over which I lingered, needing to read it again in order to digest the visuals along with the narrative.
Finally, whereas so many works of fiction are ruined by exposing the monster too much or too soon, we see exactly as much of The Night Mother as the story demands, enough to make us fear her (and fear the consequences of her obsession), but never so much as to risk making her familiar or commonplace. In fact, before I risk spoiling things best left to your own discovery, I leave you with a taste of how we’re led to know her.
There was something of heaven and hell in every taste of the eternal woman’s orgasms…The Night Mother’s secretions were sour as frozen-scream corpses dangled from rusted hooks, and intoxicating as a chorus line of oiled men ejaculating on women flaunting fishnets to their thighs but otherwise bare and glossed with sweat and the shine of piercings on the floor beneath them.
Deny it if you will but, somewhere, deep inside each of us, is that one secret fantasy that we long to explore. No matter how prim and proper we may aDeny it if you will but, somewhere, deep inside each of us, is that one secret fantasy that we long to explore. No matter how prim and proper we may appear on the surface, we all have that one fantasy that leaves us feeling conflicted and torn every time we consider it. With The House of Blood, Wayne C. Rogers explores one man's torment when those darkest of fantasies are exploited by a cruel, mysterious force of supernatural evil.
Chris is a successful horror novelist, married to the woman of his dreams, and deeply submissive to her on a level most of us cannot even imagine.This isn't 50 Shades playtime - this is a very real, very deep sort of power exchange. Their relationship is serious and intense, and occasionally borders on the extreme, but it is what they both crave. Ironically, as submissive as he is to his wife, Chris is also an unrepentant womanizer, and it is that weakness that initially leads them into their supernatural torment . . . although I think you'll agree the punishment is far worse than the crime.
Initially, it is Chris who is drawn to the creepy old mansion on Palomino Drive, which he believes presents the perfect image to his fans. Once owned by the infamous Lady Anne, a notoriously cruel dominatrix who is rumored to have whipped more than one husband to death, it is said to be haunted by more than just its tortured past. While it is not at all what Katherine had in mind, the more she learns of its history, the more she falls under its spell (quite literally). As she opens herself more and more to the spirit of Lady Anne, Katherine begins pushing the boundaries of her already unorthodox marriage far beyond any previously assumed limitations. Whereas she used to be content to leave a few temporary marks upon her husband, her punishments quickly escalate into relentless, merciless whippings and canings that leave Chris bedridden and all-but-crippled for days.
If this were just another work of sadomasochistic erotica, Chris would likely be left spiritually and emotionally broken, with the suggestion that it was his proper place all along. Similarly, if this were just another work of erotic fantasy, there would be no morning-after regrets or repercussions to their marriage. Instead, the world that Rogers has so carefully crafted here has real-life consequences for every action. It is that brutal intrusion of reality into the depraved fantasy that makes Lady Anne's supernatural evil so insidious. Those consequences serve to remind us that this is a serious horror novel, and one in which no ghost so cruel, no fiendish force so determined, is ever going to settle for anything less than the finality of death. What began as a simple marital conflict soon escalates into a supernatural battle of wills, leaving Chris its helpless victim.
The supernatural element here is superb. In a house filled with ghosts, it is often hard to tell what is real and what is imagined. As much as we might like to believe that the phantom orgies, ghostly murders, and incorporeal torments are merely the figments of a horror author's own overactive imagination, there is no questioning the blood, the bruises, and the broken bones. They may very well be the result of some kind of subconscious self-harm, or they may be evidence of Chris' supernatural submission. Regardless, his experiences are truly horrifying, and the deeper he descends into the pits of depravity, the more he fights to escape the house's control, the guiltier we feel for having enjoyed any earlier titillation at his expense.
Make no mistake, The House of Blood is for mature readers only, and is definitely not for everyone. This is a book that goes to some very dark places, but it's so wonderfully put together that you just have to let it lead you along, no matter how uncomfortable the leash. Rogers has crafted a remarkably well-written novel that superbly meshes the arousal of fetish erotica with the fear of extreme horror. It is a difficult mix to manage, but he does a superb job of getting into our heads as well as our beds. Readers who enjoy the darker, more visceral works of authors like Clive Barker, Richard Laymon, and Edward Lee, will certainly appreciate the appeal here....more
It was Clive Barker's The Hellbound Heart that first opened my eyes to the erotic potential of true, blood-curdling horror. The House of Blood by WaynIt was Clive Barker's The Hellbound Heart that first opened my eyes to the erotic potential of true, blood-curdling horror. The House of Blood by Wayne C. Rogers (sadly out of print) came next, upping factors both fetish and fear, and making me wonder how much further an author could take it. While it's taken me far too long to enjoy the answer, it comes in the form of John Everson's NightWhere, the glorious finale in an unholy thematic trinity of blood, bondage, and blasphemy.
While there is no such thing as a perfect book (Mark's too-easy final assault upon The Red irks me a bit), this is about as close as they come. I wanted a work of erotic horror that delivered on both fronts. I was looking for a book that's as drenched in blood as it is in semen and tears. I craved a story that could turn me off and turn me on, often in the same paragraph. Most of all, I wanted to experience an author who isn't afraid to push the limits, to cross the line, and to risk offending just about every sensibility.
To put it bluntly, this is fucking it.
This is the most graphically obscene mainstream novel that I have ever read. It starts off edgy and kinky, with some BDSM play that gets a little rough and bloody, and then it bleeds right into torture porn, snuff, blasphemy, and necrophilia. It's graphic, it's disturbing, and it's also utterly fascinating. Everson plays with a lot of concepts and themes here, with love and marriage at the heart of it all, but he twists things in such a way that we're forced to confront our fears and our fantasies at the same time. He simultaneously conveys the dark passions that Rae chases so deeply, and the pure love that drives Mark onward. In our hearts (and perhaps our souls) we know that Mark is in the right, we know he's the hero, and we want him to save his wife . . . but it is so hard to deny the guilty pleasures that Rae invites us to share. There comes a point where, even though we may be hoping for redemption, we're willing to sacrifice her to see what The Black holds.
As much as this is a novel of pain and pleasure, torture and titillation, all of that would eventually become tiresome and repetitive were it not for the characters. Mark and Rae are a fantastic couple, a husband and wife with whom it's all too easy to relate at the beginning, and whom we become invested in as their lives fall apart. Sin-D is a fascinating sort-of guide to NightWhere, a promiscuous, all-knowing bartender whose pained humanity intrigues us from the start. Kharon is far too cold and inhuman to really engage us, serving more as a plot device than a character, but he does have his moments. Damia, on the other hand, is the kind of scene-chewing, over-the-top villainess who made me smile every time she popped up at Mark's side. Finally, we have Selena, a character who takes a while to really step out of the shadows, but whose back-story could be a novel all on its own.
While the supernatural plays a huge role in NightWhere, making possible so much desecration and defilement night-after-night, it is the human aspects that are often the most chilling. Amidst all the intricate mechanisms of torture, designed as unholy trials and rites of passage, it is not the bizarre cornfield of crucifixions that sticks with me most, but the simplicity of a booby-trapped dildo - a mortal invention, borne of spite and jealousy. When we can intend such unforgivable things for one another, simply so that we can 'win' the right to proceed deeper into darkness, it really drives home the idea that Hell (spiritual, psychological, or physical) is what we make of it. Unlike so many stories where the 'fallen' character is seduced into sin, pushed into perversion, John Everson does not allow us that out. We're not here because anybody got dragged kicking and screaming into it, we're here because it's precisely where they want to be. And where, even if you won't admit it publicly, you're inclined to linger perhaps a little too long, wondering if you could ever be more than a literary voyeur....more
Field of Flesh is a companion piece and novella-sized sequel to NightWhere, which I first encountered as part of the Sacrificing Virgins collection. WField of Flesh is a companion piece and novella-sized sequel to NightWhere, which I first encountered as part of the Sacrificing Virgins collection. What makes it a must-read is two things. First, it gives us a whole other perspective on NightWhere, stripping away the emotional attachment of Mark and Rae as lovers, and inviting us to follow a Detective's professional, purpose-driven descent into depravity.
Second, it reminds us that despite the climactic events that concluded the novel, NightWhere is eternal. This is just as violent and erotic as you might expect (hope? fear?) but with a noir, hardboiled, often sarcastic sort of narrative sense that keeps it fresh....more
The cover blurb calls this "Fifty Shades meets Hellraiser," which is an apt description. It has all the sadomasochistic erotica of the latter, and allThe cover blurb calls this "Fifty Shades meets Hellraiser," which is an apt description. It has all the sadomasochistic erotica of the latter, and all the narrative flair and literary depth of the former. Fifty Shades of Hell is dark, cruel, violent, erotic, and disgusting, but it's a visceral experience that ultimately feels empty.
Tim Miller does some exciting things with the concept, and certainly knows how to deliver on the thrills and the chills. There was a scene about halfway through where he transformed me from curious to fascinated, popping Bruce's eyes with a pair of knives, before having a pair of demonic men thrust their members into the empty sockets until they touch his brain, and then leaving their seed to leak out along with his tears. That, for me, was the WTF moment, and it just got more extreme from there.
Just about every line you can imagine is crossed here, betraying boundaries of romance, morality, and sexuality. On the one hand you have people skinned alive, burned alive, eaten alive, and shredded into pieces. On the other hand, you have these same people forced to endure all manner of forbidden penetrations, with tools of flesh, metal, and more. The amount of detail invested in the description of Hell is exquisite, going far beyond mere hooks and blades.
Where the book falls short, and where I think the novella could be expanded into a much stronger novel, is in the characterization. Miller never gets into the characters heads, never lets us know what they're really thinking, and shies away from exploring their motivations. Why do people do these things? What drives them? What pushes them to accept such betrayals? For a story so strong with physical and visual horror, the addition of the emotional and intellectual would have pushed it over the top....more
Despite having purchased several of John Everson's novels, Sacrificing Virgins actually proved to be my first taste of his work. Having finished it laDespite having purchased several of John Everson's novels, Sacrificing Virgins actually proved to be my first taste of his work. Having finished it last night, I must say that it left me with one very important question - what the hell I was waiting for?
This is a collection that absolutely sucked me in, devoured my soul, and left me an undead husk, eager to be used and abused some more. The short stories here are wildly imaginative, darkly atmospheric, and seriously depraved. Alternately erotic and sadistic, they are sometimes full of the blackest humor, and other times completely barren of hope.
“She Found Spring” is a beautiful, yet sadly haunting sort of tale, a classic ghost story centered around the turning of the seasons. "Bad Day” is a terrifying, apocalyptic sort of tale that starts out with a bit of morbid humor, but which descends into hopeless terror as the plague of Luna Roaches begin breeding inside human skulls.
“Nailed” marks the first appearance of erotic horror in the collection, introducing us to a lonely woman and the stone sex toy she steals from a long-dead corpse beneath her garden, while "The Eyes" marks the first appearance of extreme horror in the collection, with a sadistic serial killer who has a fetish for eyes . . .
“Sacrificing Virgins” is where Everson completely won me over, putting a necrophiliac twist on the classic 'deal with the devil' story. This is one of those stories that repeatedly seems to reach a new depth of disgust, only to keep finding even deeper levels of debauchery. Somehow, “Whatever You Want” actually manages to push the envelope even further, with a slow-burning tale of erotic mutilation that just keeps getting darker and more perverse.
“Eardrum Buzz” merges elements of earlier stories, mixing music and bug in a blackly humorous story about the 'buzz' of a new band, the 'buzz' of a concert the day after, and the 'buzz' of something else. “Field of Flesh” is a companion piece to his erotic horror novel NightWhere (which I need to read next), involving a supernaturally kinky sex club, an all-too-eager detective, and the very dangerous temptations of sexual voyeurism.
“The Pumpkin Man” and “The Tapping” are stories where you know what's going on, and can guess the ending from the start, but they're so well told that you're content to enjoy the read. Both are distinguished by the uniqueness of their narrators, the creepiness of the atmosphere, and the ghost-story chills of the plot. “The White House” is a similar sort of tale where you can guess at the ending from page one, but it's the slow build of the tension, and the gradual reveal of the house's sins that make it so powerful.
“Star on the Beach” is another darkly erotic tale of 'harmless' necrophilia on a beach, while “Fish Bait” is a darkly humorous tale of a night in a redneck bar, but both are brutal reminders of the power of seemingly superstitious rituals of appeasement. “To Earn His Love” is another piece of erotic horror that touches on familiar themes, this time involving inappropriate student-teacher relations, guilty voyeurism, and poorly considered deals with the devil.
"The Hole To China” is a perfect closer to the collection, as beautiful and sadly haunting as the story that opened it. A tale of escape from the all-too-real horrors of domestic abuse, it relates the simple story of a boy digging his way to China, and the kindly woman next door who offers him a special shovel, along with some increasingly unsettling observations.
Make no mistake, Sacrificing Virgins is not for everyone, but that's precisely why I enjoyed it so much. I have barely scratched at the surface here, but this is a book that had me covering my eyes, turning my head aside, and reading almost tentatively at times. Some of it is beautiful, and some of it is shocking, but it's all powerful.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary ARC of this title from the publisher in exchange for review consideration.This does not in any way affect the honesty or sincerity of my honest review.
Cthulhu Armageddon is a book that I first had the pleasure of reading a few years ago. With a new publisher giving it new life, and C.T. Phipps takingCthulhu Armageddon is a book that I first had the pleasure of reading a few years ago. With a new publisher giving it new life, and C.T. Phipps taking the opportunity to add an extra chapter that serves as an epilogue, I thought I'd revisit it myself.
This is a book that blends the elements of several genres, and does so with surprising success. There's definitely some Mad Max insanity to it, but what struck me most strongly was the sort of homage to two masters of the genre, Stephen King and Brian Lumley, the first with his post-apocalyptic The Stand and the latter with his take on the Cthulhu mythos. It's the story of John Henry Booth, a stone-cold exterminator of threats to the remnants of humanity. A loyal soldier and respected leader, he is forced to question his very existence when a mysterious encounter leaves him branded a traitor. Declared dead, he sets out with a disgraced torturer to find the truth, seek his revenge, and continue his mission - but only after his wife's monstrous attempt at betrayal goes awry,
There's so much to like about this story - action, horror, humor, and some heavy emotions. It's an incredibly fatalistic look at humanity's future, but it's Booth's interactions with the women around him that drives us to keep going. From the man's affection for a cursed child and a soldier thought lost, to his awkward trust for both a torturer and a cult leader, Phipps keeps the monstrous from completely overwhelming the humanity.
For those wondering about the Cthulhu aspect, it's not just window dressing but a significant part of the story. This is a book that gets very trippy at times, complete with dream world encounters, gods and old ones, magic, and inhuman power. More than once I had to stop, go back, and reread a section just to appreciate how much was going on. The opening discovery of "a genuine, honest-to-god cathedral with soaring towers and architecture" in the middle of nowhere, constructed of "stones seemingly formed from the very night itself," sets the tone for the story, and the climax deep within that same alien temple delivers on every level.
Comprised of equal parts horror, science fiction, and weird western, Cthulhu Armageddon is that rare book that delivers on them all, and which should appeal to a wide audience. It's dark, grim, and deeply unsettling, but unlike its subject matter, never entirely alien. As for the new epilogue, no spoilers, but it does tie up some loose ends and provide a little closure for the human element of the tale.
That is a cover blurb most authors would kill for, and it's entirely deserved. When the protagonist's disease - which is slowly transforming him into That is a cover blurb most authors would kill for, and it's entirely deserved. When the protagonist's disease - which is slowly transforming him into the human equivalent of silly putty - is the most normal thing about a story, you know Carlton Mellick III is firing on all cylinders.
Village of the Mermaids, the milestone 40th book from the undisputed master of Bizarro horror, is one of his more subtle tales. Unlike in his spatterpunk/horror-trash tales, here we have a very slow build from awkward, to odd, to surreal, to outright bizarre. While there is a monstrous taint of eroticism to his mermaids, it's the monstrous aspect that rises to the surface (pun intended) as the book goes on, with mutant strains of spider-mermaids and drill-bit mermen appearing on land and on sea.
To make matters worse, there's something wrong with the genetically engineered human merchow that are supposed to keep them fed. It seems they are no longer tasty enough for the mermaids; they are breeding like horny cows; and they are infected with an infectious zombie plague. Add to that an isolated small town with deep, dark secrets that only begin with bestiality and cannibalism, and you just know it's not gong to end well.
A perfect length to be consumed in a single sitting (preferably far away from the edge of the sea), this is creepy enough to hook you, mysterious enough to reel you in, and horrific enough to land you firmly in Mellick's bizarro boat. Great stuff....more
Hardcore horror that ranges from the socially relevant to the scatologically repulsive - a disgusting delight. Some really strong stories, with some sHardcore horror that ranges from the socially relevant to the scatologically repulsive - a disgusting delight. Some really strong stories, with some surprising diversity in themes and content....more
Kevin L. Donihe's The Traveling Dildo Salesman is a collection that definitely flirts with the boundaries of the Bizarro genre, but which is deliciousKevin L. Donihe's The Traveling Dildo Salesman is a collection that definitely flirts with the boundaries of the Bizarro genre, but which is deliciously understated in its obscenity. Rather than confronting the reader with his ability to shock and disgust, Donihe seduces you into the surrealism of his tale. The horror here is very cerebral, a creepy sort of hallucinogenic trip on the wings of imagination. That's not to say he doesn't toss in a moment or two of graphic depravity, but the focus is definitely on the weirdness of the experience.
The title story, The Traveling Dildo Salesman, is a very surreal tale of one man's journey through a kind of fetishistic purgatory. Ralph is a tragic hero straight out of Rod Serling's cruelest Twilight Zone episodes, lost in a perverse suburbia that would not be out of place in a Tim Burton film. Equally frustrating and inspiring, it's a story that refuses to play by the rules, and which ends on an oddly ambiguous note.
Milky Agitation is the second-shortest tale of the collection, and one that's strange simply for the sake of being strange. It's remarkable how many oddities Donihe is able to drop in so few pages, and how perversely amusing a shattered glass of milk can be. Two-Way Santa is the collection's nod to the obscene, with a tired, hopeless, homeless drunk restored to the mantle of Santa Claus by the belief of a creepy serial killer. The ending is twisted and dark, and will forever change how you think of candy canes.
In a return to the surreal, The Helen Mower offers us story that's reminiscent of Stephen King's Lawnmower Man (the gory short story, not the abysmal virtual reality movie), but with a sweet necrophiliac twist. Living Room Zombies is, by far, the funniest entry in the collection, introducing us to the hospitality of two stoners on the night of the zombie apocalypse. The final entry in the collection, Revenge Of The Living Masturbation Rag, is as brief tale of abuse and revenge that ends in a rather chilling suggestion of horror continued beyond the page.
A nice sampling of what Donihe has to offer the Bizarro genre, this is a well-written collection of horror that could almost be called 'literary' were it not so deliberately perverse. Well worth the read.
Justice may be blind, but she's also cruel - and, in so far as Stuck On You is concerned, she has a razor sharp sense of irony.
All Ricardo had to do wJustice may be blind, but she's also cruel - and, in so far as Stuck On You is concerned, she has a razor sharp sense of irony.
All Ricardo had to do was drive across the border into Mexico, pick up some cheap little artesanias for his wife, and bring them back home for her hobby business. The side-trip to the cheap strip club might have been excusable, but agreeing to help Consuela smuggle her belly full of contraband back across the border certainly was not . . . and following her into forest for a little hanky panky even less so.
That's all backstory, though, and Jasper Bark makes us wait for the explanation. Instead, he throws us right into the ironic carnage, with Ricardo waking up fused to the hideously charred corpse of his little piece of Mexican tail, having been struck by lightning at the moment of climax. Trapped, far from civilization, he has to drag their melted bodies through the forest in an agonizing attempt to reach his Jeep and the cellphone locked inside.
It's a tense story, full of sex and gore, that seems increasingly hopeless as Ricardo's dilemma drags on. The level of detail is just about perfect, with Bark's style echoing the efficient yet eloquent prose of masters like Laymon and Little. As deliciously cruel as it all is however, it's the series of final twists in the end that really make it work. Without giving anything away, if you thought being melted to a rotting corpse, with your manhood permanently locked inside her, was as bad as it could get . . . well, as Ricardo would no doubt tell you, assumptions can be dangerous things.
In case the title, the cover, or the suggestive (.) (.) section breaTitties. Fun bags. Jumbo mumbos. Zongas. Milk bags. Twin peaks. Boppers. Gazingas.
In case the title, the cover, or the suggestive (.) (.) section breaks didn't give it away, Principles Lost in the Cleavage of Angels and Demons is a story about breasts. Dilland Doe uses every one of those terms to describe the impossibly, perfectly large breasts of angels, demons, humans, and lizard people - many of which glow, jiggle, bounce, and (in one pivotal case) expel weaponized milk with explosive force.
Deliberately juvenile and sophomoric at times, this is a story that's actually rather clever, set in a post-apocalyptic future where demons have taken over the Earth. Our hero, Keanu, is the one man with the knowledge of how to open a portal into heaven. The demons want it to wage war against the angels, and the lizard men want it to kill god, but all Keanu wants to do is ask god to save humanity.
It's a wild and crazy ride through dimensions, full of R-rated sex and violence. The story is funny as hell (pun intended), but also surprisingly thoughtful at times, with some interesting explorations of the nature of good versus evil, and the role of creation versus evolution. It's so silly, and so deliberately over the top, that it's hard to take offense to even the most politically incorrect aspects (like the sex slave with the Japanese sounding name who talks like a Vietnam War prostitute), which is part of its charm.
Scoff all you want, and titter as you must at the endless breast puns, but it's a thoroughly entertaining read with a messy, violent climax that more than delivered on its premise.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary of this title from the author in exchange for review consideration. This does not in any way affect the honesty or sincerity of my review.
If you’ve ever felt like the Marquis de Sade didn’t go far enough, wasn’t perverse enough, wasn’t blasphemously violent enough, then “Shanti: The SadiIf you’ve ever felt like the Marquis de Sade didn’t go far enough, wasn’t perverse enough, wasn’t blasphemously violent enough, then “Shanti: The Sadist Heaven” may be the book you’re looking for. If you had trouble getting through de Sade’s erotic classics of sadism, however, you might want to give this a wide berth.
This is dark, violent, and brutal in its sexuality. It is a story of rape, torture, and abuse, set in a post-apocalyptic future where disease runs as rampant as deviance. The amount of imaginative detail invested in this diseased, decaying future is horribly exquisite, from polluted blood to the chemical rains, to the monstrous STDs that will literally leave your skin crawling.
It’s the kind of place where the horrors of an Infectious Disease Ward pale in comparison to the atrocities of a Velvet Brothel, and one where sunken churches and melted crucifixes offer an escape that has nothing to do with redemption or forgiveness. While Justine and Juliette are names that should be familiar to readers of de Sade, the way in which Manzetti subverts both their sexuality and their sacrifices is where the heart of the story lies.
Finally, it must be said that “Shanti: The Sadist Heaven” is precisely the kind of extreme horror you might expect from a Stoker Award-winning poet. It’s a story that is heavy with images and words, full of brilliant metaphors and wondrous similes, where the diversions are sometimes more powerful than the journey.
If you remember when horror was dark and supernatural, free of pop culture nods and knowing smirks to the reader, with twist endings that absolutely eIf you remember when horror was dark and supernatural, free of pop culture nods and knowing smirks to the reader, with twist endings that absolutely eviscerated your imagination, then Shadows & Teeth Volume 3 is sure to be right up your alley - your dark, foggy, cobblestone, garbage-strewn alley.
Guy N. Smith's Cannibal House was a great twist on both haunted houses and cannibalistic slashers, starting and ending with creepy discoveries.
Nathan Robinson's Tree Huggers was a fun story that put a gory new spin on the concept of horror in the woods, complete with a brutally cold ending.
No Thanks, by Antonio Simon Jr., was probably my favorite story in the collection. The telling of it was fantastic, the pacing perfect, the black humor on point, and the very concept of "no thanks" simple, yet brilliant.
R. Perez de Pereda's Bernadette was an unexpected pleasure, a well-told story of a medieval priest, a deal with the devil, and a young woman who refuses to stay dead.
David Owain Hughes' Picture Not So Perfect was a slow-burning sort of tale, one with a tragically human element, an interesting twist of expectations, and a monstrous finale that has more than a few surprises.
Cruciform, by S.J. Deighan, was another favorite - a story of occult secrets, dark rituals, and the unfortunate consequences of summoning a demon to do your bidding.
A solid collection with only a few stories that didn't really work for me, Shadows & Teeth Volume 3 is a perfect read for fans of slasher flicks, splatterpunk, and Twilight Zone endings.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary ARC of this title from the author in exchange for review consideration. This does not in any way affect the honesty or sincerity of my review.
Even though I enjoyed my first encounter with Lyka Bloom, I think that enjoyment was tempered by the fact that Infection was an incomplete tale, with Even though I enjoyed my first encounter with Lyka Bloom, I think that enjoyment was tempered by the fact that Infection was an incomplete tale, with more needing to be told.
Rubberwerks certainly has something of an open ending that could lend itself to a sequel, but it's a self-contained tale, and any lingering threads of doubt as to whether the evil has been contained are simply a convention of the genre. Darkly imaginative and erotically sinister, it's a horror tale that owes as much to the old adventure serials as to the slasher flicks of the 80s and 90s.
It all starts with a group of young hikers who discover a mysterious building buried deep in the Amazon jungle. Cold, forbidding, and abandoned, it's incongruity amid the jungle foliage is something they cannot resist. Once inside, they quickly discern its ugly origins as a long-forgotten home to secret Nazi experiments. Despite her own advice to the group about always staying together, Christine wanders off into into the heart of the complex, where she encounters the rubbery black goo that is destined to destroy them.
Bloom quickly builds a fantastic setting here, with Christine's exploration contrasted by Clay's perusal of the Nazi files -which contain just enough identifiable words and chillingly erotic black-and-white photos to convince him that they need to get out - and fast. Unfortunately, by that point Christine has already slipped and fallen, accidentally trailing her fingers through the black goo, which quickly proceeds to seal her in its black, skin-tight, latex embrace. Her transformation is as chilling as it is erotic, particularly with the way in which Bloom describes her frantic efforts to wipe away the burning, tingling, corrosive goo, only to have it spread even faster, consuming her mind even as it drives her body to new heights of ecstasy.
It will come as no surprise to fans of the genre that the group is quickly overrun by the goo, leaving the survivors to flee towards the nearest village in a desperate attempt to save their friends and stop the spread. There, the story only gets more chilling as they discover the true origins of the goo, with the Nazis having resorted to desperate experiments on their own people to turn the tide of the war. It's a smart, imaginative source of horror, that Bloom pairs nicely with its erotic, sensual spread.
Forget mindless, shuffling zombies - the hive mentality of Bloom's faceless, featureless latex dolls makes Rubberwerks a fetishly fantastic read.
Although it suffers from some softness in the middle, Something Violent is a crazy-ass thriller with a killer shock of an opening, a brilliantly twistAlthough it suffers from some softness in the middle, Something Violent is a crazy-ass thriller with a killer shock of an opening, a brilliantly twisted climax, and a darkly satisfying conclusion. Kristopher Rufty weaves a tale that takes its inspiration from a number of sources, but which outdoes them all in terms of sheer audacity.
Ron McClure is a marriage counselor to the stars, a celebrity in his own right, complete with talk show appearances and a book deal. When he spots a beautiful woman sobbing in a liquor store parking lot, he has no idea where a well-intentioned conversation will end - but he certainly doesn't expect to be tasered, kidnapped, and tied up in a serial killer's basement. Despite what seems like his own impending death, he can't help but be drawn into the story of a serial killer couple who've lost their lust for killing together. In between thoughts of escape, he actually starts listening to their respective stories, compelled to solve them as he has so many others.
Jody and Seth are an interesting couple, creepy as hell and twice as frightening. The story of how they met is worthy of a book all its own, and theirs is a story that just gets darker and more complicated as their confessions go on. The tricky thing is, they're an almost likable couple, making it all too easy to get drawn into their tale of terror, torture, murder, and mayhem. There's almost something of a Natural Born Killers vibe to it, but without the silly, surreal, satiric element. This reads more like an uncensored early season episode of Criminal Minds. The real hook here, though, is Something Violent itself - a darknet, subscription-based website for serial killers and their most twisted fans. I won't get into too much detail, but it ties into both how Seth and Jody met and how they drifted apart, with another serial killer couple involved in it all.
Like I said, there were a few soft spots in the middle that I think could have been tightened up, but it's so well-told, with such fantastic characters, and just the right amount of violence, that its flaws are easy to excuse. There are some definite shocks along the way, and a key tipping point where our fascination turns to horror, but the pay-off is one of the best I've come across in the genre in ages.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary ARC of this title from the publisher in exchange for review consideration. This does not in any way affect the honesty or sincerity of my review.
A weird barbarian novella of adult-oriented sword and sorcery, Joreck And The Swamp Phantoms Of Ikk is exactly what you might expect . . . and, I dareA weird barbarian novella of adult-oriented sword and sorcery, Joreck And The Swamp Phantoms Of Ikk is exactly what you might expect . . . and, I daresay, even more so what you might be hoping for. Kevin Strange wrangles sword and sorcery, bizarro horror, and erotic fantasy into a short tale that will leave you hungry for more.
In a story that owes as much to Fritz Leiber, Michael Moorcock, and Piers Anthony as it does to the obvious inspirate of Robert E. Howard, Joreck's tale has it all. There's bizarre erotica, ribald humor, over-the-top action, betrayal, murder, monsters, and even a few surprises. Joreck, Orilious, and Treena are all solid characters, more than just your typical archetypes, and it's them that will leave you craving more adventures.
The storytelling is strong, with crisp dialogue, some fantastic descriptions, and an almost unrelenting narrative pace. Strange doesn't necessarily give us a lot of backstory, but he does provide enough context for us to care about the characters and feel for their quest. The swamp is almost a character in itself, and from the moment the heroes awake to the mysterious pit full of bones in the middle of their camp, we're intrigued as to what's really going on.
The battle in the tavern at the center of the swamp is great fun, and the consequences of victory are even more entertaining. It's the long slog home, however, where the heart of the story lies, and without giving too much away, giant horny frogs with prehensile tongues are both more terrifying and more arousing than you might expect
Fortunately, Joreck And The Swamp Phantoms Of Ikk is just 1 of the 4 stories that will be collected in the upcoming THE STRANGE SAGA OF JORECK THE BARBARIAN collection, so enjoy your first taste, and know there's more to come!
This is a book that came my way via a friend, who is a huge fan of Lyka Bloom's less horrific gender-bending erotica. Our tastes don't often overlap, This is a book that came my way via a friend, who is a huge fan of Lyka Bloom's less horrific gender-bending erotica. Our tastes don't often overlap, but we're generally very much in sync on the horror and fantasy shelves, so her recommendation was all I needed to give Bloom a try.
While Infection is not without its flaws, it's a solid, entertaining story that delivers on its basic premise. Really, the initial concept of the missing sister is something we've all read before, but even if other authors have toyed with the idea of a dark fetish cult, Bloom gleefully embraces that dark potential. I won't spoil the demonic nature of the dominatrix who leads the cult, but I will say that the way in which she (and her impossible club) is explored is quite remarkable.
There's a lot of build-up to this story, and it's done well, creating as much dread as suspense. Bloom keeps the erotic elements largely off-the-page for most of the story, making them that much more effective when they do finally bleed through. The characters have some personality to them, the dialogue is decent, and it's clear from the visual descriptions that Bloom is a taste for the fetish side of things. I also found it quite clever the way she plays with the duality of piercings and body modifications, driving home the unsettling aspect with the supernaturally-driven impulses, while successfully demonstrating the side which arouses and intrigues.
It's a shame that the story just stops, with so much potential left unexplored, but I'd definitely be up for checking out the impending sequel.
Messed up, perverse, and over-the-top, Slither is a b-grade horror novel that opens with an interesting premise, almost ruins it by fumbling too many Messed up, perverse, and over-the-top, Slither is a b-grade horror novel that opens with an interesting premise, almost ruins it by fumbling too many plot threads, and ultimately redeems itself with a polarizing twist in the final fifty pages. Edward Lee definitely has a flair for the macabre, not to mention a trashy, free-flowing style, that makes this a compelling, if uneven, read.
The story starts with four separate groups of people stranded on a deserted, nearly inaccessible island. Yeah, that's a lot of strangers on a deserted island. While a few of the characters do remark upon the situation, that doesn't save the story's roots from being so awkwardly mired in coincidence. Party number one is your typical slasher flick fodder - rich, horny teens looking for a secluded sexual hideout. Party number two is your typical sci-fi thriller fodder - overly geeky scientists, an over-sexed bimbo/bitch photographer, and a by-the-book army grunt. Party number three is your typical b-movie trash fodder - a pair of petty criminal brothers and the skanky whore with whom they so eagerly trade favours. It's only party number four that really distinguishes the story, but we don't find out just how a-typical they are until those aforementioned final fifty pages.
I won't even try to decipher the barrage of scientific nonsense being bandied about here, but I will say it sounds authentic and well-researched. I learned far more about worms and parasites than I ever wanted to know, and you can bet your ass I'll be well-armed with bug-spray and insect-repellent bracelets next time I decide to venture deep into the woods. That's a bit of an in-joke, since it's ridiculous how well they manage to protect party number two but I guess somebody has to have a hope of escape for the story to work.
As for the worms, they are damned creepy. Imagine your worst, darkest, most perverted fears about slender, creeping, malevolent creatures and amp that up to the max. This is tentacle-porn at its most sadistic, stripped of the psuedo-eroticism and reduced to its most primal, albeit sexual, elements. Cover your mouth, pinch your nose, and clench those butt-cheeks tight because the tiniest little twinge or tickle will have you paranoid by the end. Cliches and coincidences aside, Lee knows how to get under your skin.
While the book would have worked better with about a hundred-or-so pages cut out, there's enough here to keep you reading, even through the dry parts. As for that polarizing twist I mentioned? It's either the cheapest cop-out ever slipped into a story, a means of getting beyond the mental roadblock of one too many scientific impossibilities, or the most inspired bit of narrative invention, a development so bizarre that it actually works. For me, it was the latter, ultimately redeeming a story with which I was starting to lose patience.
Definitely a guilty pleasure, this was a ton of fun. Its flaws aside, Slither is a wild ride, full of gross-out horror, eye-rolling sex, brutal violence, and . . . oh, yeah, gross-out sex. Not recommended for weak hearts (or weak stomachs), but perfect for those who love the kind of b-movie drive-in horror flicks they simply don't make anymore.
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