Gregory Stillingsworth, a
world-renowned horror writer, an author who has already surpassed the greats,
was destined to reach the top, surpassing Koontz, King, etc. Or was he? Was he
destined; instead, to live the life carved for him by his cursed forebears?
Instinctively, it has always
been Gregory’s custom to write his books one after another. His wife, Jamie,
who serves as his lawyer, critic, and business partner, gave up convincing him
to slow down so to focus on starting a family. Gregory, though, is relentless
in nourishing his career; that is until for the first time, he runs out of
words, sending him into an uncontrollable rage that even his wife cannot
comprehend. Is this unexpected rage an extreme reaction to the stresses of
writer’s block? Or is it the unveiling of his true role among us, a scribe born
into this world only to write of the coming Armageddon?
Gregory, in fact, teeters on
the edge of a convoluted path that dangerously nears fruition as with the
planned discovery of an unlikely malevolently muse, who happens to guide his
lore, dictates his every move.
HIS MALEVOLENT MUSE . . .
Back in its beginning, the
entity that now resided within the beauty of an antique doll had predicted it
needed a long-lasting fit for its existence. Call it vanity, if you will, but
this thing, this creature, had reached from the dark ages – the time of its
birth within the doll – into the future, where it had gathered from the modern
world an image fitting of royalty.
Although dolls representing
humans have not yet been discovered at prehistoric sites, they were, quite
possibly, the earliest of mankind’s playthings. Dolls delighted adults, but
they served primarily as the ominous, mysteriously mute, and sometimes gentle
presence through which children projected their fantasies and fears. Though
none can fathom the motivation behind their creations, dolls have carried more
fear throughout the ages than fantasies. The phenomenon can be compared to a
caveman looking at his image in a mirror for the first time, then recoiling
with enraged violence. Mirrors are a common necessity for modern-day man; but
then again, man has been conditioned to this form of magic.
The most poignant evidence of
the timeless love children have for their dolls is the preserved body of a
little girl found at Herculaneum, the ancient Roman city buried along with
Pompeii during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in A.D. 79. Excavators discovered
the child still clutching her doll.
Most ancient Egyptian dolls
that have survived were found nestled within the tombs of their young owners,
little ones who clutched the miniature human figures as if they were the key to
survival within the afterlife. Paddle-shaped dolls, discovered in tombs dating
from 2000 B.C., were made of wood with hair fashioned from strands of clay
beads, affixed to the heads with wax. Many were sadistic in appearance, thought
to have clung onto the children they possessed in life.
Other Egyptian dolls had
linen bodies with embroidered faces and thread or human hair. Ancient Greek and
Roman dolls are documented to have been made of such materials as human and
animal bone, ivory, wood, wax, terracotta, and lead. They were commonly sold in
marketplaces and by itinerant merchants.
Unlike the priests of ancient
Egypt, the Catholic Church frowned upon the practice of burying children with
their toys, so very few dolls from the Middle Ages have been preserved in
tombs.
Some dolls, ranging from
charred sticks wrapped in rags to exquisitely carved miniature sculptures, had
been used for hexing or for killing over the years. They served as a
ritualistic medium for the conjuring or for the healing by ancient witch
doctors.
One particular doll,
affectionately referred to as Christie, had a life-like image. Her glass eyes
contained a beautiful blend of brown, green, and blue. Close up, the colors
could be seen spinning and blending, giving her eyes a sheer, unique
pulchritude in which one could get lost. Her flawless, creamy tanned skin had
the feel and texture of a warm newborn baby after a bath.
Christie needed no
introduction, for anyone who gazed upon her found her completely irresistible.
Her beauty made everyone adore her. She connected herself to those whom she
possessed, holding on, manipulating, as if she were playing an unorthodox,
medieval game of chess . . . sacrificing her pawn at will.
When Christie possessed
someone, she intertwined herself to that person’s deep-rooted thoughts,
aggravations, and fears, thus making it easier for her to dictate the
providence of the souls needed for her survival. She had lived for millennia,
feeding off her possessed. Wars had been fought, kingdoms had fallen, and blood
had been spilled due to her manipulation, her want, and her evil.
Christie’s history dated back
to the 1300s in the small town of Berkshire, England.
THE OMINOUS CONNECTION . . .
The world in which we live is
an unusual cartography shaping and molding our existence. It acts as a caveat,
and this phenomenon walks with us like a silent entity inhabiting the cerebral,
influencing one’s every thought.
Little do we know that from
the highest peak, all resemble carrion … and as bright as the sun and as
luminous as the moon, angels cascade with blood--tipped swords in their hands?
They boast white cashmere wings, body armor of gold, silver, and bronze, and
the engraved pictorial of Jesus Christ displayed prominently on their chests.
From the earth’s floor, black--armored, pitchfork--bearing, black--winged
Warriors of Legion await the battle. Neither side’s soldiers hold fear in their
eyes.
This confrontation is called
the War of the Angels and relates directly to all the ups and downs of the
human race … all the pain, heartache, and senseless death.
GET TO KNOW AUTHOR A.K.
KUYKENDALL BY CHECKING OUT THE NEW INTERVIEW BETWEEN HE AND HIS PUBLISHER. SEE
WHAT MAKES HIM TICK, WHAT DRIVES HIS PASSION FOR LITERATURE, AND WHAT INSPIRED
THE NOVEL WRITER’S BLOCK: THE POSSESSION
Article
by: A.K. Kuykendall
**“The opinions in the article are those of the writer and not necessarily
PromoteHorror.com.”
LOL Well I don't know about an uncontrollable rage :D - but writer's block is a big pain in the proverbial ;)
ReplyDeleteMs. Crean,
DeleteI know right! Here's an excerpt from The Possession I thought you might like:
On January 18, 1335, the trial of Diana Crugle and Catherine Delaminaté commenced in Berkshire, England. The two women, both of mature age, said in their juridical confessions that, for twenty years or thereabouts, they had belonged to the innumerable army of Satan. They had given themselves to him, as much in this life as in the next. They stated that, often, on the nights of Friday through Saturday, they had indulged at the Sabbat, which was sometimes held in one place, sometimes in another. There, in the company of men and women as sacrilegious as themselves, they gave themselves up to all kinds of excess, the details of which were horribly unbearable for the gentle townspeople at that time.
Both ladies went on to say that their meeting seemed of destiny in that both had their virginity brutally taken by way of rape on the same evening, January 1, 1328, by the same man with features unexplainable.
Upon further questioning, the two women both stated that this man was hermaphroditic. Upon his ejaculation, he whispered into their right ears, “Welcome to the body of the Sabbat.”
A total of eighteen days passed and, yet again, on the night of January 19, 1328, both ladies were visited in what they described as a dream. A man of gigantic stature, black of skin, and whose glowing eyes resembled two burning coals embedded in the skin of a beast, approached over a body of water and asked them to surrender themselves to him. They replied that they would. He then breathed into their mouths, giving them the power to will themselves anywhere they pleased.
Upon the next gathering of the Sabbat, they both met a gigantic he-goat, which they simultaneously saluted and to whom they both bared all, beginning to perform for this creature the pinnacle of sadism. The he-goat made a decision, viciously slapping down Diana Crugle. Blood trickled from her left lower lip. When the droplets hit the ground, dozens of tiny scorpions scattered. This indicated that the beast clung to the fiber, essence, and the finest roots of her soul.
The he-goat took Catherine Delaminaté for its bed. In return, he instructed Catherine in all kinds of wicked secrets. He gave her the knowledge of poisonous plants, taught her magic words, and showed her the way to work witchcraft on the eves of midsummer, Christmas, and every first Friday of the month.
These ladies, upon disclosure of their theology to the community, were decapitated. Starved street dogs fed on their remains.
Within these aforementioned sacrilegious orgies, the base nature of all who attended placed them in harm’s way of the beast, resulting in the beast creating the individuals, creating the present moment, and creating the future of those within their family tree. They had become the pawns of the ultimate beast.
Vivian Noose happened to be one of those pawns. Her husband, a carpenter by the name of Geramia Noose, died by a mysterious malady that had the quickness of the Twentieth Century’s Ebola, the very day he had received word that his wife was with child: January 18, 1385.
This event brought Vivian Noose before the town’s Council for judgment. Some townspeople remembered that Mrs. Vivian Noose had been Vivian Delaminaté before marriage. She was the younger sister of Catherine Delaminaté, the one fed to the street dogs when Vivian was a child. As simpler minds forgot Vivian Noose’s family history, so the sinister memory of the bloodline faded throughout the centuries.
That era had marked Gregory and Jamie Stillingsworth as the target for Hell’s wrath upon the millennium. Whether or not either of them knew it or understood the significance, the fact remained: Diana Crugle was a distant blood-relative of Gregory Stillingsworth and Catherine Delaminaté was a blood-relative of Jamie Stillingsworth.
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