Weekly Horrorscope

Weekly Horrorscope

ARIES

Always take time for a good breakfast. You need to go nourished into the flaming void of the new day. Coffee, omelet, croissants, orange juice, pastry, mung bean sprouts, strawberries, bacon and lots of steaks – fresh, bloody and kicking. Satisfy your appetites. Take what you need, or you will be taken by need.

TAURUS

Cordoba is a gorgeous place. The people there are beautiful, passionate, hot-headed, and there might be a unique element in their blood. That red in the walls of every building is no coincidence. There is magic, love, and lust. You should visit. Now! Continue reading “Weekly Horrorscope”

Weekly Horrorscope

Weekly Horrorscope

ARIES

You woke up today, congrats.  One down, thousand fifty-two to go. You will fall asleep, and wake up in Paris – for a month. Don’t trust a word what the cats say. There is no truth in a cat’s answer.

TAURUS

Yep. That’s a grizzly. Nope, it’s not the Yeti. By the way, those berries you ate half an hour ago, those weren’t huckleberries. Yep. Pretty much. Continue reading “Weekly Horrorscope”

Names for Blades

Names for Blades

DEVIL’S PEAK – begin: here

The trees creaked, as if an enourmous weight moved on top of them. The sky was stilll bright but caught amber on the west side. We should hurry. No birds chirped. The longer we had our feet on the trail, the quieter the forest got.

I could barely hear Ennoia and Meme. Frank was right behind me, patting his side. Our breathing and our feet on the dirt were mostly the only sounds. As unsettling as it was, my rookie was gave me the wrong vibes. His mind was somewhere else. He moved far too cool, at least he should be nervous by now.

The skin on my nape burned. The thought that he had brought his hunting knife along, without telling me, was infuriating. I told him to talk to me, to tell me everything. How many times- wait a minute. Oh, hell. If he brought a nameless blade… This was dangerous. Continue reading “Names for Blades”

Corona (1)

Corona (1)

The bulk of “Corona” rolled under me. My sweet little rustbucket drifted away from the denser part of the junkyard.

Nothing had “easy money” stencilled on the side, like old-timey electronics that belonged to nobody. All the gold and tantalum just sat there, so lonely. “Keeps me searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old,” I sang under my breath. Oldies were the best. Continue reading “Corona (1)”