Why should you read #crimsonthreads? Each book is chocked full about what about horror. Not just scares, gore, and dreadful moments. It tackles the human condition through inhumane circumstances. Horror is where the evil and conflict of daily life becomes a tangible thing we can defeat. Amazon.com/dp/B0BQHBXKSN #horror #horrorbooks #urbanfantasy #darkfantasy

Black Cat Sentry by Dillon Samuelson

Lovecraft Mythos art by Ian Miller.

They had found unholy ways to keep their brains alive, either in the same body or different bodies; and had evidently achieved a way of tapping the consciousness of the dead whom they gathered together. There had, it seems, been some truth in chimerical old Borellus when he wrote of preparing from even the most antique remains certain “Essential Saltes” from which the shade of a long-dead living thing might be raised up. There was a formula for evoking such a shade, and another for putting it down; and it had now been so perfected that it could be taught successfully. One must be careful about evocations, for the markers of old graves are not always accurate. H.P. Lovecraft, The Case of Charles Dexter Ward

Sleep in Peace Sleepwalking through life, she envied the dead, And dreamt what marvels corpses dreamt Each night, she craved a grave to rest her head, And faced wakefulness with contempt. Read the rest at Substack (Free): open.substack.com/pub/zoshea… #poem #poetry #darkpoetry #cosmichorror

He doesn't share.

Two turns later. "Gosh. I know this kills some of my creatures, but uh, All is Dust I guess?"

I don't recommend playing FF12 because you'll never stop wishing to have what Balthier and Fran had going on

Primitive fears whispered at the back of Conan's mind. Was this the work of the priests of Keshan? If so, where were they? Was it Zargheba, after all, who had struck the gong? Again there rose the memory of Bit-Yakin and his mysterious servants. Bit-Yakin was dead, shriveled to a hulk of wrinkled leather and bound in his hollowed crypt to greet the rising sun for ever. But the servants of Bit-Yakin were unaccounted for. There was no proof they had ever left the valley. Robert E. Howard, The Servants of Bit Yakin

Richard Hescox

A blood-freezing yell knifed the silence. It came from the woods to the west, and simultaneously an object arched out of the trees, struck the ground and rolled bouncingly towards the rocks—a severed human head, the hideously painted face frozen in a snarl of death. 'Conan's signal!' roared Strom, and the desperate freebooters rose like a wave from the rocks and rushed headlong toward the woods. Arrows whirred out of the bushes, but their flight was hurried and erratic; only three men fell. Then the wild men of the sea plunged through the fringe of foliage and fell on the naked painted figures that rose out of the gloom before them. There was a murderous instant of panting, ferocious effort, hand-to-hand, cutlasses beating down war-axes, booted feet trampling naked bodies, and then bare feet were rattling through the bushes in headlong flight as the survivors of that brief carnage quit the fray, leaving seven still, painted figures stretched on the blood-stained leaves that littered the earth. Further back in the thickets sounded a thrashing and heaving, and then it ceased and Conan strode into view, his lacquered hat gone, his coat torn, his cutlass dripping in his hand. Robert E. Howard, The Black Stranger

Castles by Ian Miller.

WIP

It was curious to note from the pictured battles that both the Cthulhu spawn and the Mi-Go seem to have been composed of matter more widely different from that which we know than was the substance of the Old Ones. They were able to undergo transformations and reintegrations impossible for their adversaries, and seem therefore to have originally come from even remoter gulfs of cosmic space. H.P. Lovecraft, At the Mountains of Madness

The Crown of Corroded Thorns Rusting barbs and dry-rotted wood, Don’t hold nothing but dead dreams. Fields don’t stay fallow like they should, Givin’ crops of bones and screams. Read the rest at Substack (Free) open.substack.com/pub/zoshea… #poem #poetry #darkpoetry #horror #westerngothic

Very beautiful.

In those lost aeons man was not yet master of the world, he was the servant and fodder of primal horrors the stalked the night, things far beyond the power of flint spears and fire.