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I.D. – Al Edwards

I.D.

Al Edwards

The door creeps open and he greets me with that sympathetic smile. Like he cares for me in some way, but his compassion is transparent; a cloying mask that barely conceals his lack of emotion. He’s come to ask me more questions. The fact that I’m here at all is proof that the machine works.

“Do you remember Rose?” he asks. Of course I remember Rose. I am in love with her too. I just give him the nod. I should take him by surprise. Wrap my bed sheet around his neck until he no longer struggles, then make a run for it. But that would be useless. He will have changed the key code by now and being trapped in here, slowly starving to death, isn’t the best alternative.

“And our mother?” he says. “Do you remember her name?” I remember her reading to me every night before I went to sleep. How her kiss could heal a wound faster than any surgeon in the country. Even the ones deep down, like when Sally Baker told me she was going out with Tom Brody now, and she had never really liked me anyway. My mother… Our mother… kissed me on the forehead and told me that it would be okay. It was.

“Dawn,” I tell him. He takes a deep breath and pulls his lips in, before exhaling heavily through his nose.

“Do you remember everything?” he asks. I lift my head and stare into his eyes. “Right up to entering the machine?”

“Yes,” I say. “One of us walked in. Two of us walked out.”

“So you know what has to be done?”

I look down at the vents that will soon be letting in the gas. I haven’t been alive for long, I know that, but I have a lifetime of memories. I remember enough to know what has to be done.

“Yes, I know.”

I don’t want to die, but I know it’s safer this way, for both of us. If anyone ever found out, both of our lives would be destroyed.

“I’m going now,” he tells me. Tears form in my eyes. I swallow down the lump in my throat, grit my teeth, and hold his gaze as he backs out of the room. The gas begins to seep in through the vents, making me cough. My eyes are burning and I steady myself against the wall. He is watching me through the small glass window in the door and I can see sorrow in his eyes. Real sorrow. I stumble to the glass. I don’t want to die alone. He looks away and presses his right hand to the glass. I start to raise my hand to his, then stop. His sleeve has slid down, exposing the pale skin of his wrist, and there…

My tattoo! I have a tattoo on my right wrist. A yellow smiley face I had done in my college days. His wrist is bare.

“We’ve made a mistake!” I choke. The room is too bright, my head is spinning. I hold my wrist up to the glass, as I slide down the door. You need to look back. You need to see my tattoo. We’ve made a mistake.

I fall to the floor.

“I’m not the clone. You are.”

 

About the author:  I’ve been obsessed with horror since I stole my dad’s vhs of Nightmare on Elm Street and watched it in secret. I’ve drawn, painted, and written about horror ever since. I live in Liverpool, UK. I have just turned 40 and was diagnosed with Asperger’s earlier this year (now I know why I lack social skills). I recently finished my first draft of an 80k manuscript, and have yet to have anything published.

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Cry Baby – Al Edwards

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Cry Baby

Al Edwards

The baby’s cries echoed through the empty house. No soft furnishings to muffle the ear piercing sound. Everything was still in boxes.

Peter had been called away on business.

“But we’ve just moved in,” I told him. “Can’t we at least spend the first night together?”

“You know I have to go, honey,” he said. “It’s because of these nights away, we’ve been able to afford this house in the first place.”

I would exchange this big old house in the middle of nowhere for time spent with my family anywhere, I thought. But I didn’t tell him.

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” I called out, wrapping my dressing gown around me. I glanced at the clock. Three a.m.

Walking across the large open hallway, I watched the shadows of the trees dancing across the walls in the moonlight.

“I’m coming, darling,”

I reached down and turned the handle. The crying stopped.

I opened the door to see my little cherub kicking his feet and looking around the room wide eyed.

“Oh, darling,” I said, lifting him out of his cot. “What’s the matter?”

Rocking him gently against my chest, I walked around the room, hushing him back to sleep.

“There you go,” I whispered, as I lay him back down and covered him up.

I closed the door as softly as I could, before quietly making my way back to bed.

Just as my head touched the pillow, his cries stung the air once again.

“You’ve been fed,” I said, throwing the covers back. “And you can’t be too cold.”

I pulled on my gown and swept across the hall. “Or too hot for that matter.”

I grabbed the handle and flung open the door. “So what could possibly be—“

The crying had stopped. And there he lay once again, kicking his legs and staring around the room.

“Do you miss me, honey?” I said, lifting him out. “Is that what it is?”

He looked at me with his big, sparkling eyes and smiled his gummy smile.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s sleep in Mummy’s room.” I pulled his door closed and took him off to sleep with me.

He fell asleep instantly, and I wasn’t long behind him.

I awoke once more. My heart pounding in my chest. The air too thick to breathe. I looked at my son. He was still fast asleep. I began to tremble. The cries were coming from his room again.

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Don’t Be A Prude! Enjoy Your HORRGASM Today!

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Featuring six titillating tales, this anthology delivers a chilling blend of provocative horror.

THE WOMAN IN RED opens with a lusting and blood thirsty couple hell bent to outshine Jack the Ripper.

Take a bizarre road trip delivering talking heads with a hot blonde with a twisted past in HEAD TRIP.

DOSE goes through hookers and drugs faster than Charlie Sheen, explores the S&M scene, while delivering a haunting climax.

SEX TOY plays with an odd, foreign and blasphemous sex curio that takes a couple’s love life to a whole new level.

TOUCH ME, I’M SICK warns of a grave consequence no lustful adulterer would ever want to pay.

Lastly, THE VAMPIRE NYMPH wraps up the anthology with sizzling vampire sex served with a cold dish of irony.

 

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Horror So Good It Just Might Kill

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Book of Horrors, available on Amazon Kindle, consists of ten solid terrifying horror stories and is absolutely perfect for those that enjoy a good scare. But readers should take caution. It should be of no surprise that a horror collection titled Book of Horrors would contain stories and passages from a cryptic source. A source that could be traced back to the disappearance of the Mayans, the fall of Rome, and the rise of the occult. The people involved in discovering the ancient source material suffered intense migrans, demonic hallucinations, and some even took their own lives.

Book of Horrors features chilling tales of cold-blooded murder, demonic possessions, zombie apocalypse, invasive body parasites, and much more. Each story tells a self-contained narrative with its own unique theme and influences.

Whether your taste for horror is H. P. Lovecraft, Stephen King, or Tales from the Crypt, Book of Horrors is an essential horror anthology that’ll leave you haunted.

There are two ways for horror fiends to get their hands on Book of Horrors. Book of Horrors can be purchased from Amazon for $2.99 and read on Kindle, e-reader, or even modern phones.

Or, horror readers can have access to Book of Horrors, along with other horror anthologies, by pledging a dollar ($1) on Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/deadmanstome

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Most holy water has traces of feces in it. This gives a whole new meaning to “Holy shit”.

http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2013/sep/15/most-holy-water-contaminated-fecal-matter-study/

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Deadman’s Tome Advertising and Marketing GoFundMe

Why is Deadman’s Tome asking for money:
Deadman’s Tome is raising money for advertising and marketing so that we can extend the outreach of the content, and share the work of both talented newcomers as well as award-winning writers to a greater audience. The writers earn based on the number of views, likes, and comments, and because of that every dollar spent towards advertising, marketing, and promotion supports them tremendously.
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How is the money going to be used:
Deadman’s Tome will use the money to cover advertising, marketing, and promotional expenses. Because of your help and your generous support, Deadman’s Tome will reach out to horror fans and readers through various horror sites, blogs, podcasts, and more. A portion of funds would pay the authors. While another portion would help in promoting writing contests and various means to promote engagement.

Why this matters:
By supporting Deadman’s Tome, you support independent horror writers, and allow for the growing horror magazine to do more. I started Deadman’s Tome with a dream of creating a place where stories are shared, where discussion is encouraged, and where writers can receive direct feedback from the readers.

Donate what you can, but if you can’t then help by spreading the message and getting the word out! Supporters can get some pretty cool gifts such as free anthologies, mugs, shirts, and LIMITED EDITION print copy of Book of Horrors I and II!

https://www.gofundme.com/deadmanstomeadvertising

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Christian Hands Out Anti-Halloween Jesus Comics During Halloween

Mr. Deadman shares a Halloween story and offers commentary on the three stories published this week: Nicetopia, Hold Me Tight, and The Blackout

Podcast available on iTunes and Spreaker: http://www.spreaker.com/user/8056632/christian-hands-out-anti-halloween-jesus

My son was not wearing a Captain America costume, he was THE Captain America, and he was fueled up with a belly full of pizza for trick or treat. I walk with him down the sidewalk, dressed as Jason after a killing spree, and watch him as he knocks on a door. His little arms extend an empty bucket just eager for its first piece of candy. The door opened and my son smiled, saying the famous line, and received… not candy, but a bag of Doritos and a colorful Christian comic about Halloween.

The illustrations were worse than the bottom of the barrel of Sunday morning rejects, and was so haphazardly taped to the bag, that it fell off. The effort of securing her message was symbolic to the content it self, that I was already sure of.

But my thought was what is this comic supposed to do? Is the anti-Halloween message supposed to open my eyes to the horrors of Halloween? Was I supposed to all of a sudden become aware that I am engaging in Satanic rituals? Well, I wasn’t and the reason why is because my son and I were on the same page: we want some damn candy.

This episode of the Deadman’s Tome podcast is a bit different and it is, oh gosh, pre-recorded. I did attempt to record a video version of the podcast for YouTube, but that failed. You don’t get to see my drunken face, so sad. If you have any comments or questions, please let me know.

 

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The Blackout – Gary Buller

 


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The Blackout

by Gary Buller

 

London had been his candle as the man plied his trade into the early hours of the morning, the prolonged wails of the sirens ensuring that he remained alert and awake. Business had been booming, but he marked out the plots and sunk the spade into the damp clod with burdened shoulders, one of his recent clients had been his wife.

His toil was disturbed by another sound that vibrated the darkness. Machinery purred overhead extinguishing the stars, and he was raising his spade in a futile gesture when he realised that the sky was falling. Before he could dive for cover the shell ploughed into the icy soil, not twenty yards from where he stood, and he felt the impact vibrate through the thin sole of his boots. He braced for an explosion but none came.

He returned to his shed tired and shaky- he would visit the warden under the safety of dawn.

Inside the diminutive retreat with a mug of tea warming his leathery hands the man’s eyes drooped as low as the blind that covered the single window. The September winds of nineteen forty were frigid and brought with them lung scratching dust and the odour of destruction. However, it was a strangely fetid stench that prompted the man to rise and pull the blind aside.

A thick unnatural mist clung low to the grass out of which the stones rose like teeth. In and around them he could see movement- silhouettes backlit in the miasma by a city on its knees. Heads emerged from the ground like poison mushrooms craving the darkness and marionettes rose on unsteady legs with arms outstretched.

The air grew heavy with a fusion of sweet decay and chemicals. Gravel scattered underfoot as the strangers encroached.

“I know it’s you, Jerry bastards!” the man cried, failing to cloak the tremble in his voice.

He picked up his trusty spade and listened for a response but received none. Fingers explored the walls like autumnal leaves scraping across granite. They tapped on the windows and pushed eagerly against the doors.

“You’ll not scare me, I’ll chop your heads off- you see if I don’t.”

With suddenness the window imploded and peeling hands explored his space from behind the undulating blind, probing the space eagerly. One of them had a gold ring into which a ring of sapphires was set.

The man wasn’t religious but he sank to his knees, dropping the spade with a clatter that only served to increase their efforts. The blind was ripped free and fell to the floor.

Framed in the jagged teeth of broken glass the Luftwaffe flew in formation over a sky that flickered amber. Beneath this his wife stood, reaching out to him with her mouth agape and white pupil-less eyes boring into his soul. The right-hand side of her face was caved in where the debris had collapsed on her, and she was biting at the air with a mouth of cracked and shattered teeth.

The man thought that he could hear the air raid siren again, but it was all too loud. Then he understood-

the sound came from his own throat.

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Pixelated Nightmare – Goriest NES Game ever?

Is Abadox a pixelated nightmare or a hidden gem of the NES era?

Abadox is a video game for the NES, subtitled The Deadly Inner War. It is a side-scrolling shoot ’em up in the vein of Gradius and R-Type. The game is notable for its unique visual design, as the game takes place inside the intestinal tract of a giant alien organism. Abadox is also known to be difficult, since it takes one hit from an enemy projectile to be killed.