Issue 36 – Monster Mash

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Monstrous Meetings
By Frank Coffman

“See how these children mock us, avatars
Of we who would confound their foolish play
With horror if they met US ‘neath these stars,”
The Dead Undead vampiric wight did say.
“Truly, they are quite foolish This Night to tread;
Full moon, by chance. I will choose one to slay,”
The man-wolf answered. “His joy will turn to dread
When he beholds these fangs ere break of day.”
“Yes. Must know the truth,” said the assembled man,
Reanimated by the force of lightning’s might.
The three moved forward. The children screamed and ran…
But three young souls returned not home that night.
One gave his blood, One a beast’s maw sated,
One was crushed from life. Misguided play thus fated.

Listen to Frank reading his poem on the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association “Halloween” webpage

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A Strange Night at Loch Ness
By DJ Tyrer

Hallowe’en on the shores of Loch Ness
Mist creeping steadily through the Great Glen
Something else creeping, too
A chupacabra over from Mexico
Having heard that Highland Cattle
Were tastier than goats to suck
And, that haggis might be to its taste
Past the still waters it went
Avoiding villages and trick-or-treaters
Hungry for its prey
When, suddenly, the waters churned
A long eel-like neck uprose
Two great eyes looked at the chupacabra
Uncertain what this foreign thing was
Not a nuckalavee, that was for sure
Nessie, for it was she
Decided the only way to resolve her dilemma
Was to have a taste
Bent low and swallowed it whole
The chupacabra becoming dinner
Rather than diner
Though Nessie was unimpressed with the taste
And, sank back down below

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The Roof Party
By K. A. Williams

Count Dracula looked around the roof at people in their different costumes – vampires, goblins, ghouls, witches, warlocks, zombies, and werewolves. He saw a familiar hairy face and maneuvered through the crowd.

“Wolfy, I’m glad that’s just a costume.”

“Good to see you Drac, my friend. How have you been?”

“I am well. Van Helsing’s descendents still think I was staked over a century ago. How are you?”

“Okay, but I’ve spent a lot of money on clothes and shoes. Now I buy them used at thrift stores. What are you doing here?”

Dracula waved his hand around. “All this free food. How can I resist such a feast? I wasn’t going to kill anyone, just a few sips here and there. I don’t want to be noticed. But you, Wolfy, will find it impossible to restrain yourself. There’s a full moon tonight.”

“I’ll be fine. The weather forecast is for thick clouds with rain after midnight. So you see – ”

Wolfy stopped talking because light was now visible from the moon which the clouds had uncovered.

His clothes and shoes tore as his shape changed. Soon his outfit was rags. His body became furry and his human face with the fake hair transformed into a wolf’s head. Jaws filled with sharp teeth opened and he howled.

“I know you can’t understand me, Wolfy,” said the Count, “but you sure know how to ruin a party.” His food was now screaming and fleeing down the stairs. He sighed. “You can’t trust the weather forecast.”

The wolfman growled and sprang at Dracula who quickly changed into a bat and flew off to hunt for another Halloween party.

Ends

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A Goblin Kidnapped by a Martian
By Celine Rose Mariotti

The two goblins
Daedalus and Icarus
Hid out in the moonlit night,
The sounds of witches and wizards
Was all about,
Vampires were coming
Out of their coffins,
And a light beamed from above,
The sky lit up
A spaceship landed,
The Martians came out,
Little green men with antennas,
And green hair,
Yellow eyes,
Big flabby noses,
Daedalus in his black and yellow costume,
His magic wand in his hand,
Shook the other goblin,
Icarus who was dressed in a blue and white costume,
With broken wings
Shook at the sight of the spaceship,
They hid behind a huge stone,
But the Martians spied them,
Seized them,
Dragged them out to their spaceship,
Shot them with a laser beam,
Before they knew it,
Up, up went the spaceship,
They awoke hours later,
Unaware of their environment,
They called out,
“Where are we?
Where are the ghosts?
Where is the candy?
Where are the horror movies?”
“We’re Martians and you’re on your way to Mars!
Happy Halloween!”

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When Duat is Full…
By Harris Coverley

The moon and planets and stars at last aligned and allowed my rise from darkest Duat, not four thousand years too soon—yet when I exited my sarcophagus I found a most curious thing.

To break out of the crypt was simple enough, to walk out into the sun, to feel it even through my wrap of decrepit linen.

Nobody greeted me, but that was expected.

In the far distance I saw slaves panicking and running—indeed, panic and run!

Fear me!

But as I walked down the river it became apparent that something was amiss.

The people ignored me as they scurried about blindly, some in chariots of metal and crystal, while others, stumbling about, smelling fouler even than myself I must admit, took whatever chance they could to take bites out of the others as they fell screaming to the ground.

At last I reached the largest city on the river, a magnificent polity of vertiginous towers, all aflame and crumbling, the mass alarm ongoing, the slaves in riot.

Was this all for me?

Had the terror of my awakening sent the whole realm mad?

I stood in a square and announced my presence: “I am Naarhotep the Boundless, most exalted wizard of Great Aegypt, and you will obey me!”

No response was given—the chaos continued, flesh was ripped, blood streamed, and the odd stumbler attempted to take a bite out of me—the insolence!—but I swiftly tore him in half and the others got the message.

However disappointing this was for the most powerful man in the universe, ruling the world was not as pressing an issue as was finding my love, sweetest Nauhet, her soul transmitted body to body through the centuries, her innate beauty always rising to her surface.

Across a burning realm I searched for her, incanting spells, tossing away these mindless dregs, until, across the sea, I found my dearest Nauhet reincarnated near the half-buried ruins of Troy—an insensible, staggering cadaver like the rest!

But…no matter!

With her chained at my side I can take her occasional gnawing on my dried flesh, and I will rule this earth where the dead now walk the way they do in Duat…the ma’at ruptured, the pharaohs of all nations vanquished, and I will take my chance, the moon and planets and stars permitting…

The End

Issue 31 – Goblin Market

Disorderly piles
Filth, refuse, treasures galore
Goblin marketplace

By DS Davidson

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Gobble it up!
By Mark Hudson

Look at this hobgoblin market,
everything looking like a bargain.
Goblins hocking wares, Bark it!
Selling just like textbook jargon.

Want an E.T movie poster?
Want a Goonies Lunch Box?
Want a Gremlins drink coaster?
Want a goblin grandfather clock?

It’s all here at this strange bazaar,
buy a monstrous rock guitar.
You’ll never figure out the chords,
or take a look at the sharp swords.

Got pests in your house? Is it your spouse?
Get this fool-proof vampire mouse!
She will be climbing on top of a stool,
or do you wish to be more cruel?

Goblins offering goblin food,
be forewarned; it’s a bit crude!
Taste the goblin fish and chips,
get a massage with chains and whips.

You can go to the dungeon below,
the stakes are high; but the prices are low!
Buy some illegal goblin beer,
wear an eye-patch and belch with a sneer!

If you want to drag the kids along,
be careful to watch who they’re among!
And if they got lost at the bazaar,
that’s less passengers in your car!

Remember to find what suits you the most,
you might even be followed home by a ghost!
Returning home, might bring you despair,
your wallet is empty, the true thing that scares!

Goblins For Sale
By K. A. Williams

“So you want to buy a goblin, eh?”
“Yes, unless you’re giving them away.”

The seller made them stand in line for me.
Ugliest creatures I ever did see.

Short with green skin, long noses, and big ears.
Lots of jagged teeth that grow sharper with years.

I studied each creature, both young and old,
picked out the right one, and paid with some gold.

“I’ll take him off the group chain. Are you sure?
He’s mean, and their bites are hard to cure.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a wizard, I’ll be okay.”
“What do you want with a goblin, by the way?”

“I’m also an artist, I’m painting him.”
The goblin growled and I thought he was dim.

“I’m going to paint your picture, not you.”
“Then you don’t need to fear me, if that’s true.
But a model should be paid. Set me free.”
“When I’m done with my painting. Certainly.”

The goblin and I left the market right then,
and he gave his seller an evil grin.

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Hobnobblin’ with the Goblin
By Harris Coverley

I saw the goblin at the end of the bar in my local, refusing the stool and instead the blue-green claws of his legs grasping the handle running along the outside—he looked like a novelty light fixture. I sidled up him and asked, “So, is the goblin market back in town already?” And he replied, “You know you’re the third arsehole who’s asked me that.” I pacified him with a fresh drink, and he got to talking about his everlasting hunt for gold, his kidnapping and ransoming of maiden’s children, and his campaign of spoiling villager’s crops. And I talked about my graft in the insurance game—it wasn’t too dissimilar. The trouble came when he began to scrape through the flat white hairs on his scalp and pick out blood red fleas to snack on. The barmaid came up to us and barked, “No outside food!” And this caused a row so nasty it ended with him throwing his pint glass to the floor and slouching off out. I followed after him, but there was nothing in the street, not even a shadow of the sprite, except for something in the gutter that snatched my eye—a small flyposter, pink set, water-faded, emblazoned with its subject in tall and slim gothic lettering: GOBLIN MARKET 2021—1st to 15th August—Rossetti Square—ONLY SERIOUS TRADERS AND BUYERS ADMITTED—goblinmartonline.co.uk

at the bar’s far end
hobnobblin’ with the goblin
Jägerbombs on him

Midnight Market
By Cardinal Cox

Hacked CCTV to repeat images from a previous night
Hulking steroid-ripe ogres standing as
Bouncers – taking bribes from traders for pitches
A wall of cardboard scraps requesting crash space
For displaced folks from flooded fens
And family feuds; or information;
Or small-ads; or offering services
Flyers for gigs in front rooms
To raise the week’s rent
Zine peddler swap meet on blankets
Open bags – curling corners – crinkled covers
Book dealers on trestle tables – actual books!
Richard Allen – William Burroughs
Sven Hassel – Lydia Lunch
Each of the market’s four corners has
Music stalls with crackly CD players
Blaring vintage skipping disks
Cassette tapes for amulets hung round neck
Fragrant clouds from vegan fajitas & root stew
Laddeled into mugs, bowls or old containers
Punters pull from prepared packs
Techttoos of smart ink sigils
Sewn into proffered nervous skin
Engineers armed with soldering irons
And volt metres upgrading old
Handsets and headsets and holosets
Neural inputs flushed – cleaned – re-bored
Widened for greater bandwidth
Pharmacologist/shaman with herbs
And fungi switching on illumination
For the confused – the cursed – the possessed
Fibre optic torques for those with aspirations
Pick-pockets and secret police
Retired ravers and righteous Rastafarians
Tourists and ’tween fare taxi drivers
Sipping bitter black acorn coffee
Badges of forgotten bands – Destructors
Black Marias – Evil Macaroni – The Now
Medals from the Relief of Euston
The siege of Sizewell – Battle of Stonehenge
Some veterans legacy pawned for food
Sounds of seventy languages
Slang – cant – machine code
Two urban foxes with their limited
Vocabulary – cognitive enhancing
Chemical having entered the food chain
Wise salmon in distant rivers
Rat towns aggressively occupying London
Underground – and the foxes – mangey
Begging scraps from drunkards
Cobblers repairing boots beside the bar
While customers wince a home-brew beer
Graffiti artists co-operating on a mural
Of the market’s legendary founder – Buddha-fat
Sadhu-hirsute – third-eye blazing
Wide upon his forehead – collage crew
Ready to add Dadaist headlines
Seamsters repurposing scavenged clothes
With needle and filament wire
Mats for break-dancers spinning for coins
Street poets and rappers battling
With insults and invective – dumping
Fly-tipped verbal garbage on each
Others boasts worthy of flyting skalds
Everywhere the range of humans
Overseen by Neander-DNA expressing
Goblinz – there’s a satyr with horns
Amongst their hair – djinn gang boss
With rakshasa bodyguard gifted
Personal space – people augmented with
Hardware – software – greyware – pinkware
Smart drugs – gene spliced
And everywhere the call
Come buy! Come buy! Come Buy!

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Goblin Hoard
By DJ Tyrer

Treasures piled high
Sold low
Coins scattered beneath
Goblin feet of
Scurrying salesmen
Seeking a quick profit
Eye for a sale
Keen to be gone
Before owner returns
Blazing dragon flame

Dragon Egg
By K. A. Williams

Dragon egg for sale
Price is negotiated
Excited buyer waits
Baby ostrich hatches