bloody English, disgusting imagery, gruesome twosome, horror story, horrorshow, in the mouth of madness, monster mash, monsters, murder by death, night of the living dead, poetics, undead, zombie nation
I walked along the sultry road – at least it seemed that way to me – gibber jabbering to my lonesome self proclaiming victory. I had won an argument with myself and surely I felt Satisfaction Jackson. Jury’s out, none the wiser, stirring the stew, traipsing round on a cold cold night. Then I started hearing awfully odd noises and beastly moans. I thought the streets empty at this lately late hour, not a pot should be stirring at this phantom of a night. But lo and behold there came a ghastly little gremlin popping peeping round the corner, soaked in moonlit glow.
Awkward shapes were coming from the distance, all I saw was blobby shadows making way with snail’s pace. Those growls and grrs grew and grew, I felt my anus shrink. A sudden horror gripped me as I backed away fromitall. Demons, heathens, living nightmares had come to roost, closer they came with that from the gutter air. I caught one in the pale yellow light, what a frightful mess it was. Up and down I looked it, I almost retched at first glance, the unspeakable terror of that horrid rotten form. I shielded my eyes to keep the sickness at bay. But what a sight it was, what hath god wrought.
A festering malignancy. Fetid putrid little flakes haggardly peeling off that off green head, spattered with sores and lesions. The malarkey of decaying flesh; “flesh”, the word is not strong enough, not disgusting in its imagery. More like bloody slabs of pustulating detritus, if I may be so fancy in my morbid macabre reminescenses. The sight ungodly; mental aberrations lingering so heavily in mine mind’s eye. Stenches so diseased and sickly I could not understand what I was smelling, what foulness I had breathed in.
The gait of this unfortunate creature (heaven knows what gender it once was) seemed disjointed and unnerving. There was no pattern or rhythm to it, it was a jarring, sluggish inching forward, limbs as if they had their own cognizance. Muscles and bone were hanging out at various places, like mangy dogs had feasted and tore off pieces from the slabs. Mordant Morticia was lumbering ever closer as shreds of once vibrant skin fell down with a dirty, base, gelatinous “thfloop” sound. A zombie Mardi Gras where flesh was the beads of youthful hijinx, raining down the sordid streets.
The area was swollen with these leperous monstrosities. Every which way I turned there was another disgusting mound of garbage heap abortions. FSM have mercy on our dwindling weary souls. Haggardly I continue and fight off one after the other molting morons. The hairs on my neck rise and salute me, tension and stiffness overtly covers my body as I free run down Fannin street. Kaloo kalay, hell hath come, rejoice in sinner’s paradise. We deserve the monsters under our bed.