By Diana Allgair Double, double, toil, and trouble. A plethora of phrases and stereotypes raced through the young witch’s mind and served as fuel to … Toil and Trouble
Last year I wrote a post mentioning a collection of short stories by Bram Stoker that I discovered at a local second hand bookstore. The first story in the book is The Crystal Cup, written 5 years before Dracula was published. While reading it, I was reminded of both of Jonathan Harker’s sense of imprisonment at Dracula’s castle, and Renfield’s increasingly strange behavior at Seward’s insane asylum. Luckily, you don’t need to dredge the shelves of a bookstore if you’re in need of a short, spooky read this October. The full story is available at American Literature’s website here.
Love this poem posted by Rachael Ikins at Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen! Halloween Synopsis
Looking for a spooky fix this October? Check out Nicholas Efstathiou‘s immersive site chronicling the strange occurrences in the fictional town of Cross, Massachusetts. Each piece is paired with an eerie vintage photograph. Cross, Massachusetts Disease and disaster are never easy to overcome. Invariably, we lose something of ourselves. In 1912, this was driven home when a strange illness afflicted residents of Elm Street and only Elm Street. Seven people came down with the disease. Rather, seven young men between the ages of 18 and 23. The young men lived in a pair of boarding houses, each across the street from the other. On Saturday, the men woke up, prepared to go to work, and ate their morning meals. They were, by all accounts, hale and hearty at seven in the morning. By 7:30, all were struck low, screaming and clawing at their faces. Of the seven men, only one of them, Alexander Keel, survived the experience. While his unfortunate co-victims died screaming in agony, Alexander took the drastic step of cutting his entire face …
I love how this haiku by Dancing Echoes summarizes the sadness and loss behind the tangled debris a devastating storm leaves behind. Piles of debris Someones history A funeral pyre Pyre
This engrossing poem by Ysabelle Cheung mixes culture criticism with everyday minutia.
Sage advice from K. M. Allan, even if you’re not a writer.
Originally posted on Jellyfish Review:
Salt While salting my eggs this morning, I had one of those moments where you ponder an everyday thing and how it came to be as such. A thing long taken for granted. In this case, it was the very salt I was shaking. I wondered about its origin. Who was that pioneer who took these tiny, white crystals and thought to put them over food? We all know how salt is made now — of course — but who was the first to find it, to use it? What type of man? For salt is no easy encounter. We know the delicate balance needed. We know the sequence of things that must occur. How then, was it ever revealed? What were the circumstances? Who was the man who first drew salt? Was he a seeker or simply a man who stumbled accidentally? How far he must’ve walked into a mountainous forest before he saw the tell-tale shining light. Who was the man that looked upon the red-gray beam peeking…
My poem Teeth was featured at Freeverse Revolution last weekend, as part of August’s theme dreams. There are a lot of amazing contributions this month, I encourage you to check some of them out! Last night I dreamed that my teeth exploded Popped in my mouth like popcorn cutting my cheeks I spit the shards and blood on the ground My … Teeth – L. Stevens
sometimes I am quite sure