Tag Archive: Macabre


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“A Portentous Epoch of Sagacious Redolence and Epiphany”

By

Gregory V. Boulware

 

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“They say there is no sin in killing a beast, only in killing a man…but where does one begin and the other end – Why is it the so-called educated do not acquire the good sense of knowing better?”

 

“HALLOW II”: A Portentous Epoch of Sagacious Redolence and Epiphany

Or

(A Significant Era of Perceptive Aroma and Vision)

Bowery of the Crimson Frock and Flesh

“Even a man, who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the ‘Wolfsbane’ blooms and the Autumn Moon is bright.”

“One day men will look back and say, I gave birth to the twentieth century”

~Jack The Ripper~

http://boweryofthecrimsonfrockandflesh.blogspot.com/

Coincidences, seemingly of a marvelous character, there are few persons who have not, on occasion, been startled. It also goes without saying; even the calmest of thinkers have experienced a vague thrilling half-credence in the supernatural genre.

Adopted in Paris, the suggestion of the discovery of an assassin are founded in any similarity could quite possibly, produce a very similar result.

Consider the most trifling variation of facts in this supposition. With respect to the latter branch, the two cases might give rise to the most important miscalculations. Thoroughly diverting the eventful courses, a mathematical error in which its own individuality may be inappreciated by a process resulting enormously at variance with the truth. We must not fail in our understanding the calculus of probability, which forbids any ideas of an extension of the parallel effect. In proportion, this parallel has already been long-drawn and exactly on point.

Part Two: “The Wedding Party”

http://parttwotheweddingparty.blogspot.com/

“We knew we were all doomed…all of us who knew.”

Abberline recalled the statement from one of several interviews with the six whores of ‘Cleveland Street’ in the ‘White Chapel District.’ The funeral of Martha Taibron brought them all to collusion. They needed to join forces for their very survival. They were constantly pursued by McQueen, the pimp of Nickel Street. He extorted money and sexual favors from the street walkers – ladies of the night.

“They were lured with grapes, champagne, and laudanum. And then they were all euthanized.” The inspector spoke in trance-like sentences. “They were transported and dumped.”

The inspector began interviewing professional men. He spoke with doctors, dentists, taxidermists, veterinarians, surgeons, barbers, and butchers to the disapproval, chagrin, and dismay of Scotland Yard High Officials.

 Part Three:

‘Isle Manhattan’ – “The Changeling, Loup Garou”

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2014/01/17/hallow-ii-howl-of-an-angel/

 Emissaries brought the names of ‘Duprae’ and ‘Abberline’ to the America’s. Not unlike ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ they had become household names within the law enforcement community. Duprae’s mantra preceded that of his famous colleague. The family crest of Lord Talbot arrived years before them.

The simple process to which he incorporated in solving cases had never before been disclosed to anyone… Not even the Prefect. The sole entity of that demesne is gifted to only me.

Of course, it’s not so surprising that the closed and solvent affairs were regarded as just short of miracles or that Chaunea’s analytical abilities gained his the notoriety and awarded credit on intuition and sagacious insight.

Being frank would have created an atmosphere of prejudice and abuse to every individual who would inquire into his practicum of procedure; his indolent humor forbade any such agitation of a topic whose interest has long ago dissipated. This position in many past times, have found him the attraction of cynical political eyes. The insolvable cases of which he was engaged were requested services at a level above Prefect.

Marie was the only daughter of the widow ‘Estelle Roget (Rogers)’ In France, they were named ‘Roget’ while the American adoption changed it and pronounced it as ‘Rogers.’ Marie’s (she is sometimes called Mary) father died when she was a baby. He was assassinated when she was approximately eighteen months of age. The couple, along with their daughter, resided in a close-nit cul-de-sac community, in Queens. The father kept a flat in Manhattan for business ventures. His death provided the aggrieved ladies a comfortable living.

~Hallow II~

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

~Robert Frost 1923~

  …Now, Go and Get Yourself Ready For The Big Read!

~Release Date: October 2015~

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“The Beginning of The End – The Fall of Light”

By

Gregory V. Boulware

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/939504766

IMG_20141116_111928 (1)

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“You have been asking for water for the last hour,” he said.

For a moment we were silent, taking stock of each other. I daresay he found me a strange enough figure, naked, save for my water-soaked trousers and socks, scalded, and my face and shoulders blackened by the smoke. His face was a fair weakness, his chin retreated, and his hair lay in crisp, almost flaxen curls on his low forehead; his eyes were rather large, pale-blue, and blankly staring. He spoke abruptly, looking vacantly away from me.

“This must be the beginning of the end,” he said, interrupting me. “The end! The great and terrible day of the Lord!” When the men shall call upon the mountains and the rocks to fall upon them and hide them – hide them from the face of Him that sitteth upon the throne!”

I began to understand the position. I ceased my labored reasoning, struggled to my feet, and standing over him, laid my hand on his shoulder.

“Be a man!” said I, “You are scared out your wits! What good is religion if it collapses under calamity? Think of what earthquakes and floods, wars and volcanoes, have done before to men! Did you think God had exempted Weybridge? He is not an insurance agent.”

For a time he sat in blank silence.

“But how can we escape?” he asked, suddenly. “They are invulnerable, they are pitiless.”

“Neither the one nor, perhaps, the other,” I answered. “And the mightier they are the more sane and wary should we be. One of them was killed yonder not three hours ago.”

“Killed1” he said, staring about him. “How can God’s ministers be killed?”

“I saw it happen.” I proceeded to tell him. “We have chanced to come in for the thick of it,” said I, “and that is all.”

“What is that flicker in the sky?” he asked abruptly.

I told him it was the heliograph signaling – that it was the sign of human help and effort in the sky.

“We are in the midst of it,” I said, “quiet as it is. That flicker in the sky tells of the gathering storm. Yonder, I take it, are the Martians, and Londonward, where those hills rise about Richmond and Kingston and the trees give cover, Earthworks are being thrown up and guns are being placed. Presently the Martians will be coming this way again.”

And even as I spoke he sprang to his feet and stopped me by a gesture.

“Listen!” he said.

From beyond the low hills across the water came the dull resonance of distant guns and a remote weird crying. Then everything was still. A cockchafer came droning over the hedge and past us. High in the west the crescent moon hung faint and pale above the smoke of Weybridge and Shepperton and the hot, still splendor of the sunset.

“We had better follow this path,” I said, “northward.”

Gene Barry was the starring hero from the classic ‘War of The Worlds’ by Herbert George Wells back in the sixties when I was a little boy. The bombs screamed across the big screen at the ‘Lehigh Movie Theatre’ on Lehigh Avenue between twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth Streets in North Philadelphia. My two younger brothers, two of the girls who lived next door on Myrtlewood Street; and me were shuttled off by our mothers that early Saturday evening. The ladies had plans of their own. We were shipped out to the movies. Man what a treat. Albeit we were all scared to death, afraid to leave the theatre on many other monster treated and frightful afternoons. I can remember running home, fearing the crossing of darkened alleyways along the route to the safe haven of the domicile. Vampires, Frankenstein’s Monster, Zombies, and Werewolves threatened to jump out and get us if we doddle and lagged behind.

The story, ‘War of the Worlds’ in the novel format takes the reader on a journey during the turn of the twentieth century in Britain. The Americanized movie version has it placed in Las Angeles with shots and scenes from around the globe.

The visionary Martian vessels were described as in the novel. They glowed the green lights and eerie screwing sounds of a mason jar unscrewing. The laser beam of instantaneous destruction managed to destroy and kill any and every living and non-living thing on the planet and in its path. The shadowy white dusty froth laden forms of human beings lay on the grounds and roadways of the countryside exit trails, hopefully leading to safety, played out in the book did make its ghostly presence on the big screen and in the book as well.

The movie version with Mr. Gene (Bat Masterson) Barry remains a classic; the traverse through the countryside of England uncovers a journey of epic endeavor, adventure, and excitement beyond the movie theatre.

“When Earth comes under siege from extraterrestrial invaders, the best and worst of mankind comes out among those struggling to survive.”

Mr. Wells was born in Bromley, Kent on September 21, 1866. He was called ‘Bertie’ by his family. His father was a shopkeeper who was previously a cricketer. After the business failed, his mother was forced to work as a domestic in the nearby country house of ‘Up-Park.’ She desired to return the family back to the middle-class status it had briefly enjoyed. Wells worked as a schoolteacher and a pharmacist. He also studied biology under Thomas Henry Huxley, a vociferous proponent of Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. This gentleman made an extraordinary impression on him so much so that he returned to teaching completing his course studies and earned his degree. Wells went on with his mastery of the imagination and produced more thought provoking science fiction works in novel format and magazine periodicals as well as a couple of biology textbooks while working for the University Correspondence College.

“Herbert G. Wells published his first novel, The Time Machine to critical and popular acclaim in 1895. He became one of the most prolific writers of his generation. Mr. Wells has explored a vast variety of social, philosophical, and political I thoughts and ideas via the medium of what is described as science fiction.”

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“What was that?”

“I dunno…it’s pretty damned dark out there.”

“Shit man, a big ass bump like that had to be felt for a few blocks around!”

“…Feel anything else?”

“Nah…it was probably some big ass truck or something.”

Aw right, turn the radio up, the Halloween shows are about to start.” The doorbell rang. It was one of those chime-like doorbell ringers. It had a firm but soft tone.

“Damn kids – pain in the ass…where’s the candy?”

“Ho Dude! Listen! It’s Orson Welles! It’s one of his old radio shows – hurry up! Get me a cassette tape, quick!”

Rushing through the house with a cassette tape in hand, he fell over the ottoman sitting near the dining room threshold between there and the kitchen. He managed to get the tape into the recording machine just as the announcer introduced Orson Welles’ Halloween play.

Andre picked up his hot cup of java and prepared to drop a bit of whiskey in it. From the corner of his right eye he thought he’d seen a flash of light. He was reassured by another flash of falling light. This one more prominent that the other. The first one seemed to be a little ways down the road – over on ‘Haines Street.’ The second one seemed to fall a bit closer. It fell with an Earth-shattering boom…right smack in the middle of ‘High Street’ and ‘Baynton Street.’ The neighbors were all running around the corner to see what they thought was a terrible car crash. It wasn’t. It was the apartment building which sat on the northwest corner. The building was gone. What took its place was a monstrous sized gaping hole. The hole almost appeared bottomless at first. Then the rush of creek water sprouted from below. Rumor has it that the majority of this ‘Germantown’ area stood over bedrock and heavily flowing creek-water. The water was much deeper than the basements of houses that were built overhead.

The sidewalk began to crackle and break. The separation caused by the split right down the center of Baynton Street caused the crowds to disperse and run for home. The safety of their families was of extreme paramount.

Another monster boom sounded just around the corner on ‘Walnut Lane.’ The instant flash and boom on the street took out another building. A twin house on the odd numbered side of the street was suddenly and instantaneously gone. Loud noises under the street and greenish glowing lights appeared as the crowds rushed for their homes. The booming became regular. They exploded all around the neighborhood. Parked cars became airborne flying objects of mass destruction. They flew back to Earth as two ton bombs of metal and shrapnel, crushing other cars and several people in meshing. Jet planes flew overhead as police sirens screamed all around. The police cars did not stop in to check on the people, they were fleeing the area enmass.

A father and his three children ran down ‘Germantown Avenue.’ They vanished as one of the flying trash removal and collection trucks descended upon them. Overhead clouds formed and caused the daytime light to take on the appearance of a nighttime sky… The booming thunder, thumping-metal-grinding walking machines, flashing-burning white to blue-green rays, and falling lights burned to ashes anyone and anything it touched…

Til Next Time…

War of the Worlds and Other Science Fiction Classics by H. G. Wells.

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“Hallow”

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http://demonsthroathallow.blogspot.com/2011/12/demons-throat.html

“HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN SCORNED!”

Macabre:
Gruesome and horrifying; ghastly; horrible, pertaining to, dealing with, or representing death, especially its grimmer or uglier aspect. Of or suggestive of the allegorical dance of death; gruesome; ghastly; grim. Resembling or associated with the danse macabre from Old French danse macabre dance of death, probably from macabé relating to the Maccabees, who were associated with death because of the doctrines and prayers for the dead?

“DEMON’S THROAT”

Walter made a backroom deal. The deal placed him at the top of the higher echelon.
The power that accompanied his new found status was the envy of many…

Horror:
An overwhelming and painful feeling caused by something frightfully shocking, terrifying, or revolting, a shuddering fear: to shrink back from a mutilated corpse in horror. Anything that causes such a feeling: killing, looting, and other horrors of war.
Such a feeling as a quality or condition – A strong aversion, abhorrence: to have a horror of emotional outbursts. Informal: something considered bad or tasteless.
Inspiring or creating horror, loathing, aversion, etc., centered upon or depicting terrifying or macabre events: a horror movie.

Wynetta, his wife, made a deal as well…

Walter didn’t like it! He didn’t like it ONE DAMN BIT!

…As he began to cut her smooth and tender throat, blood began to flow.
Then it gushed and dripped like a geyser, only it pumped out from one of her capillaries with violent intentions.

“If I can’t have you…then nobody can!”

Her violation(s)…she dared to make love with another; someone other than he – whom she has never before, known or loved.

He was beautiful where Walter was not. He made her feel like the woman she’d dreamed of being. He ravaged her…he made love to her like no one could!

Walter would put an end to this shit! It would go no further!

“Revenge is a dish best served cold!”

“Hallow” ~A Sojourn Into Now and Then~
Featuring – “Demon’s Throat”
By
Mr. Gregory V. Boulware
Title ID: 3735573 ISBN-13: 978-1468003406 

5.5″ x 8.5″ (13.97 x 21.59 cm)
Black & White on White paper
246 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1468003406
ISBN-10: 1468003402
BISAC: Fiction / Occult
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“Revenge is a dish best served cold!” (And sometimes warm or hot – “Red Devil Lye,” “The Straight Razor,” and/or The Arsenic in the Food). Simply a warning to the fella’s who do the wrong – you might wake up dead, you might catch a stitch in the nitch (the nookie),” beware of the one who serves your food and draws your bath!”
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