Loup Garou

As we continue our creative journey, Salaire McAlpine has produced a hair tingling short story that will make you howl with delight. Salaire graduated with a BA Honours in English and Creative Writing, and is currently studying English Studies, as a Postgraduate student.

‘And if you stare long enough into the Abyss, the Abyss will stare back at you.’
– Friedrich Nietzsche

Beating in unison, the forest hummed with thumping heartbeats. Sprinting through entwined trees, I clasped my trembling hands over my ears, blocking out the growing rumble. My heartbeat sped up as my feet quickened, running from the fearsome beast that loomed behind, growing vastly like a young glowing giant. My breathing harshened into thick throaty pants; my slobbering mouth now as dry as burning sand. I had to escape.

Flicking my gaze, my heart leapt: the blazing white light of the nightly God was nearing. It was too close; I had left too late. I screamed as my hands crippled backwards, each finger snapping in musical unison. Biting down on my quivering lip, I tried to ignore the pain. Compared to what would come, this façade of agony wouldn’t half match up.

Confused by the agony that burnt through my bloodstream, my leg caught, snaring between thick vines. The air rushed from my lungs as my body slammed into the dirt, mud and water, covering my form in a coat of filth. Rolling over, my large brown eyes squinted up at the dim sky. The flickering yellow lights danced from fluorescent to grey, my eyesight fighting the chemical imbalance of the hungry beast within.

It felt as though thousands of tiny pin pricks were stabbing into my skin, tearing away the seams of connected flesh. A whimper escaped my torn lip as my broken hands twisted, my nails falling off as though I had become a rotting corpse. I pushed hard with my legs, scrambling backwards into the brush. I had to take cover. If anyone found me…it didn’t bare thinking about the consequences.

‘What am I becoming?’ I whispered.

It was only the second time that this monstrous disaster had occurred. The first time I had thought I was going mad. I’d simply thought that my drink had been spiked. How wrong I’d been.

‘Ha!’

The laugh escaped my lips, ringing out between silent trees, hysteria taking control. My back arched, contorting as a piercing cracking sensation radiated down my spine, instantly numbing the lower half of my body.

‘No, no, no!’

I lay trembling in the dirt. My ears rang, buzzing as though affected by a deafening blast. My eyes blurred, as though they had been replaced with those of a blind man.

I felt as though I was dying…

But I wasn’t that lucky.

The air around started to chill, my hot breath contrasting to the descending temperature. Stifling a cry, I groaned. The environment around me shifted, blurring as my head whipped back and forth. The insides of my body flared as though they had been ignited, as my limbs warped. Flailing forward I grasped at my stomach with bloody hands.

‘No. Please, no!’

My eyes trailed upwards, boring into the face of the circular God above. Its daring glow illuminated my figure, pulsing its rays into my perfect human form and disfiguring it. The forest rang silent of any wildlife; any near had fled from the oncoming storm that I would unleash. My harrowing howl had caused them to flee.

With my skin peeling back from the bone, dropping into the dirt like melted wax, I cried out as my human voice echoed into the distance morphing into a beastly whine. Thick crimson blood soaked what was left of my body until thin coarse hair sprouted from bare muscle.

Tilting towards the sky I felt the narrowing movement of my face elongating, followed by the cutting pain of lengthening fangs. Hovering over the pile of rotting flesh at my paws, I crouched. A low animalistic urge rushed through my inner self, battling away insignificant human thoughts. My mind raced forward with primitive instinct. Half smiling, I bared my newly sharpened teeth. The air was full with the warm scent of beating pulses. So close, and so near. The lush smell of their Woodley scented bodies made my mouth drool. Shifting my head back I let a loud, thick, throaty howl cascade into the sky and throughout the forest. Warning all wildlife, all humans of the approaching threat.

For I was coming for them. For I was death.

Writer’s Block

As part of our creative writing series, Rachel Duarte has written a short Gothic story to darken your summer holiday. Rachel graduated from the University of Roehampton, with a BA Honours in Dance and Drama, a PGCE in English and Drama and is currently studying an MA in English Studies at the University of Sunderland.

Tick tock went the clock on the mantelpiece. Tick tock. A small sigh, rustle of paper. Tick tock.

Outside the window a thin trickle of rain rolled down, falling out of a grey sky tumbled with clouds. Gusts of wind wrapped themselves around the house, took hold of the chimney and shook it. The branches of the pines roared in the grey garden.

Jenny did not move, but sat staring into space. Lost in a tide of thoughts, she had been motionless for the last hour, a blank exercise book propped up on the table in front of her. A milky film had formed on the cup of tea standing abandoned next to the exercise book. The fire had burnt down to just a few remaining ashes and embers. A heap of burnt-out coal suddenly shifted and the black lab jerked into motion, woken from pleasant dreams in front of the fire.

Jenny blinked and shook her head. Time moved on again.

“Come on then Moll; let’s take that walk before it gets too dark.”

The Labrador immediately jumped up, crying and wagging its whole hind-end in huge swoops, the muscular tail creating a strong draft which knocked the exercise book onto the carpet.

“Alright, alright, take it easy. Keep your hair on girl.” She bent to pick up the empty book, placing it upside down, back on the table.

Opening the cottage door, a crisp breeze blew scattered leaves into the room and Jenny hurried out, pulling her thick cardigan round her shoulders and tightening her scarf. The door banged shut behind her.  She headed down across the overgrown lawn and out onto the dunes.

Picking her way across the soft sand which shifted and rolled under her boots, she walked quickly to gain the sure footing of the firm sand further towards the cold North Sea. She smiled to see the mad-cap antics of the dog rushing into the waves and barking when they dared wet her nose. At least I can rely on you she thought, letting the icy wind blow her hair and her mood away. Two more days to go; forty-eight hours until the deadline! Her unique opportunity to be a published writer and to finally start a proper career, albeit in a small magazine. Still, far better this then working unsociable hours in the coffee shop serving irate businessmen and sloppy, ungrateful students.

So why was she so stuck then? This had never happened before. Writing was never a problem for her. In fact she was always scribbling on napkins, beer mats, receipts, anything she could get her hands on in between heating milk and toasting Panini.

Fact: she could write anything when there was no pressure

Fact: now the pressure was really on, she had dried up. Total mental block.

Her thoughts whirled around, but went nowhere. She turned reluctantly around, calling Molly back to her side from where she was tugging on an outsized piece of seaweed. Was that someone at the door? A shape appeared and then dissolved into the dusk.

Nothing. No one came so far out here in the depths of winter. Why would they?

Tick tock. The clock on the mantelpiece measured the hours, minutes, seconds. Jenny threw her cardigan and scarf on the back of the sofa and flopped down in the chair by the table. The exercise book was lying upside down on the carpet. But hadn’t she picked it up?

Tick tock. Less than thirty six hours to go and still not a word. Or rather lots of words, but random, meaningless, useless. Dead words. “Moll, help!” she yelled in frustration and hurled her pen across the room. It dropped and rolled across the floor. She watched in silence as it teetered on the edge of the hearth and fell, with an air of finality, into the slumbering fire.

Damn!  Where had she left her spare pens? She stood up to find her handbag. The table wobbled and the now defaced exercise book tipped back onto the ground. Leaving it there, she marched out to the kitchen and rummaged in her bag for another pen, finally pulling one out from the very bottom where it rolled around with bits of paper and empty chocolate wrappers. She shuffled back to the living room. What was that shadow on the wall? By now, the gloom of night had fallen. It was probably just the fire casting strange shapes and an overwrought imagination.

She flicked on the table lamp. The exercise book was sitting there on the table with a pen on top. An ornate fountain pen embossed with gold. It felt heavy in her hand when she picked it up to look more closely. It looked as though there was some sort of inscription, but it had almost worn away to nothing by age old fingers grasping it tightly. It felt slightly warm.

She whirled around, staring into the corners of the room, though she knew there could be no one there. A slow trickle of unease shivered down between her shoulder blades. But Molly was still peacefully snoring in front of the fire, not a hair out of place. It didn’t make sense. Didn’t add up.

She moved towards the window to peer out into the night, checking for unexpected visitors, pen still in hand, but then her brain began to tick. Scattered thoughts and images turned to concrete substance; ideas converged. Drawn irresistibly back to the desk, she sat down and began to write.

Tick tock. A small sigh, a rustle of paper. The ashes shifted in the dying fire. A soft whine stirred the voluble silence. A dark paw reached up to pat a knee that was too still. A head rolled; spittle dribbled from a slackened mouth. The whining increased.

Time paused – hesitated a moment- and then moved irresistibly on.

Tick tock. The first stirrings of the dawn.  A cold draft ruffled the still open curtains. Grey ashes floated in the early rays of sunlight. A lone beam picked out a pale grey exercise book lying on the desk. The pages were filled with words: words scribbled, written in haste, tumbling, spewing over the pages, spilling over the cover. Words written in blood.

Night of the Gorgeous Goth Girls: A Paranormal Romance

In a follow-up to our first photo shoot, Beauty from the Dark Side, Dr Bill Hughes has answered the question ‘what makes Goth girls gorgeous?’ further, in his carefully crafted poem. Dr Hughes is co-editor and on the editorial board for Monstrum journal. He is also co-organizer for the Open Graves, Open Minds: Vampires and the Undead in Modern Culture project.

Under a gibbous and gory moon
The Gorgeous Goth Girls gyre and gimble,
Gliding gaily to gloomy tune
With graceful sway and gait that’s nimble.

Benighted ravens, owls, and bats
Around the Girls shape-shift and swirl,
While grinning glowing-green-eyed cats
Torment the air with eldritch skirl.

Their eyes adorned with artful shade,
Glad-ragged in black, lips daubed with mauve;
Transforming all that moonlit glade
Aesthetically, those Goth Girl fauves.

Witches all, with body parts
And occult herbs they craft their spell;
Imagination and dark arts
Create a heaven from savage Hell.

Hence three-faced Hekátē, through hexes
Traced in the air with argent fire,
Breathes lucid commerce among the sexes,
Inspiring a colloquy of desire.

Then, demon lovers from leafy wood,
Or leaping from the leaves of books,
Are stirred alive with boiling blood,
Enchanted by those glamouring looks.

Come icy Ruthven, cool Carmilla,
Lurching zombie, ghoul, and Giaour;
Spike and Angel, crazed Drusilla—
Even glittery Edward’s here.

Barnabas and Scissorhands,
L’Estat, Ligeia, Yog-Sothoth;
Goblins, elves from Faerie lands
Salute the troupe of Gorgeous Goths.

The Count himself, three sultry brides;
Galvanic monster and his wife;
Pale warriors, werewolves, Mr Hyde:
All celebrate that Blood is Life.

And oh! What music they do make!
With gut and reed and rattling bones,
Wild revels like some Celtic wake
Resound with eerie, plangent tones.

The Girls gavotte with gay cadavers,
Goat-men, mermen, incubae,
Who quicken in the danse macabre
And ululate with ghostly cry.

The music dies; the feast begins
With tender flesh laid out to bite.
The menu sings of luscious sins,
Enthralling curious appetites.

Such gleeful gusto! The gorgeous gluttons
Gulp goblin grapes and baneful berries;
Wolf glorious gateaux, goose and mutton,
With lusty wine from Naughty Man’s Cherries.

The glutted Girls explore grimoires
In search of threads that can be woven
Into stories spiced with noir
To spellbind all the Gothic coven.

Ceridwen flings into the brew
That simmers in her cauldron bright
Wild elements to create anew
The chaos of the sable night.

There’s pickled spiders, gall of goat,
Scale of dragon and basilisk blood,
Syllables torn from infant throat,
Distlled with Gothic womanhood.

Matilda plots with Loridani,
Lilith, Mab, Medea, Glinda,
Bastet, Morrigan, fey Morgana,
Alice Nutter, and gypsy Wanda.

Their spells are spurred by their familiars:
Wilful Willow and torpid Teddy;
Morticia, sleek with ways peculiar;
Gallant Gomez, Wednesday, Hedwig.

And Ali, Lianan-Sídhe, reveals
Bright secrets from the darkest lore.
Her students, with delighted squeals,
Learn tales of terror, lust, and gore.

Samantha, witch of Circe’s line,
Likewise from open graves uncovers
Charms, unfit for abject swine,
That open minds of bards and lovers.

Kaja, lycanthrope, uncoils
Her tale of animality,
Reveals her hybrid self embroiled
With carnal sociality.

The discourse grips the Girls with awe
And animates a fierce resolve
To transcend gravity’s grim law:
Besmearing skin with chymick salve

That stings their bodies into flight,
And shivering with the fierce uplift,
The Gorgeous Girls soar into night
Astride a hog or besom swift.

Now howling giddily, drunk with glee,
They trace Agnesi’s sensual curves,
Inscribing paths that set them free,
Reborn in wild ecstatic swerves.

But now the cock crows dreary day
And Gorgeous Goth Girls must retire.
Spectral visions fade away;
Bells clang and banish dark desire.

Degeneration: The All American Nightmare

In relation to our current world issues, Jenah Colledge created an idea for an effective photo shoot based on consumerism and coercion, offering a visual contrast of the American Dream and a 21st century decaying reality. Jenah graduated with a BA Honours in English and Drama and is currently studying an MA in English Studies. She also works closely with Spectral Visions as their director of social media and Editorial Team Leader for the press.

By means of drawing attention to the reality of the horrors we live in, I was forced to take a stand and make my voice heard. Constant news reports of hatred, political idiocy, racism, and the desperate attempt to segregate mankind has only brought the decaying reality of a coerced population to my attention. In a fabricated attempt to offer gilded promises of a better world, the actions agreed are quickly abolished by the powers-that-be, with the introduction of further deeds that demonstrate the opposite of those promised.

Reality at its best

The purpose of this photo shoot is to raise awareness of what the world witnesses without acknowledging the horrific reality. The theme of the American Dream, with reference to the Stepford Wives idea, is a perfect false façade of what society is promised.  Whilst, in reality, there are acts of war, ignorance, greed and the fight for power.  These actions assist in the demolition of what lies behind it; a backward journey rather than impressive evolution.

As it were…

Photographer David Newton cleverly captured the essence of the juxtaposing image of a ‘1940s family. Using techniques such as greyscale and filters, David was able to focus on the dark reality of the manufactured American Dream. Models Rosie Hordon-Clark, Rachael Coady, and James Hogg offered facial expressions that only mirrored that. Makeup, hair and costume by makeup artist The Painted Lady (myself), also focused on different aspects of the degenerate human, from external decay to an internal disease.

The Stepford Wives

The photo shoot took place at Louis Cafe on Parklane in Sunderland, where owner’s Maria and Stephen Lee could not have been more hospitable. Maria’s family, the Maggiore’s, have owned the diner since 1928.
A full album of the photo shoot is available in the portfolio, here (x)

http://thepaintedladyfx.tumblr.com/

https://www.facebook.com/MakeupMagicFX/?ref=hl

http://roadaheadmedia.com/

 

A Colourful World of Horror!

In conjunction with our Spectral Visions publication of Jekyll and Hyde, and the current showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Katie Lloyd has produced artwork that resembles both. Katie works closely with the University of Sunderland’s library department and is a published illustrator with Spectral Visions Press.

Katie Lloyd’s interpretation of The Rocky Horror Show

Katie Lloyd’s interpretation of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

Happy New Year!

Welcome back after the holidays.

Just to keep you updated, submissions are now being taken from visionaries for both this blog and the Spectral Visions blog.

After our excessive intake of mulled wine and mince pies, business has resumed!

Please stay tuned for more amazing articles, poetry and more!

Jenah

 

Glam it up Gothic style: A quick guide to the best high street Gothic fashion

Following on from her previous fashion article, Rosie Hordon-Clark has put together a small but amazing collection of high street Gothic fashion, that will bring festive cheer to all! Rosie is currently studying an MA in English Studies.

As a culture, we are all accustomed to the term Gothic. If you are a literature fanatic, you may familiarise the Gothic with novels such as Ann Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794), Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818) or even Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897). For the films buffs among you, you may associate the Gothic with films like Friedrich Murnau’s Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922), Tim Burton’s Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007), or more recently Guillermo Del Toro’s Crimson Peak (2015). Even if films do star the likes of Johnny Depp and Tom Hiddleston (swoons), sadly, it does not wholly remove us from the reality that the Gothic is a genre of terror. So, it may come as a surprise to see the fashion industry becoming the Gothic’s latest victim. Although initially terrifying, the Gothic genre is also alluring and sexy, explaining our insatiable appetite as we always go back for more… This juxtaposition between the Gothic and allure is something top fashion designers have chosen to showcase in their autumn/winter 2015 collections: introducing Gothic glamour!

Dark and decadent, top designers have revitalised the once mournful mood of the Gothic especially for the new season, known as the Dark Victoriana trend. Key fabrics include lace, velvet and embellishment. Dark colours, especially black, are prominent throughout. (From left to right: Givenchy, Thom Browne, Simone Rocha, Alexander McQueen)

http://www.graziadaily.co.uk/fashion/trends/aw15-trends-fashion-week-autumn-winter-2015-20150337292

 

With strong allusions to the Victorian era, when the original Gothic genre was born, the Great British high street are following suit to the top designers and are currently showcasing some stunning pieces.  These garments are sure to glam you up in sexy Gothic style this winter…

Embroidered Beaded Dress – £85 from Warehouse

 

 

Check out this ultimate Gothic style shift dress from Warehouse, featuring the Victoriana high neck and heavy embellishment. Effortlessly ooze Gothic glamour this winter!

 

 

Thick Lace Rose Choker Pendant Necklace – £3.50 from Claire’s Accessories

 

 

Here is something sure to make the plainest of outfits a Gothic triumph. This choker from Claire’s Accessories combines both lace and beading that will take you smoothly from plain day wear to glamorous evening wear. Currently a style steal at 30% off!

 

Black Spinel Bubble Ring – £50 from Pandora

 

Don’t forget to accessorize! Still making it easy to keep in with the Victorian Gothic trend, this beautiful sterling silver ring from Pandora features a black spinel stone surrounded with intricate Gothic detailing.

Premium Velvet Skater Dress – £85 from Topshop

 

 

 

Topshop have got the Gothic trend perfect this season. This dress combines and contrasts two of the key fabrics of the trend, velvet and lace, giving it a plush finish and creating an up to date revival of Gothic romance.

Lace High Neck Top – £25 from Oasis

 

 

 

Featuring a Victoriana high neck and a stunning all over lace pattern, this top from Oasis will make the perfect Gothic addition to any wardrobe. Team with a velvet pencil skirt and you’re good to go!

 

 

There you have it, my quick guide to Gothic fashion! The High street is brimming with many other Gothic trends this season, so be sure to take a look. Go on, release some gorgeous, Gothic glamour this winter! Don’t be scared…

Website Links

http://www.claires.co.uk

http://www.oasis-stores.co.uk

http://www.pandora.net

http://www.topshop.com

http://www.warehouse.co.uk

 

 

A Gothic Christmas

As part of a Christmas special, Janet Cooper introduces some amazing Gothic gift idea’s.  Janet is an integral part of the Spectral Visions and is currently studying an MA in English Studies.

This time of year can be trying to say the least, and there is nothing more stressful than searching for that perfect gift for those special people in your life.  The shopping centres become extra busy, and sometimes it just isn’t the most enjoyable experience.

I love beautiful Gothic inspired items and there are specialist shops that I know I can go to if I want a unique piece but it can be quite expensive.  I started to explore the high street for Gothic items and found some just as nice but not expensive.

After just shopping at two popular department stores, I am hoping to inspire you with my top ten favourites.  I tried to aim for a maximum spend of £20.00 per item, however there are one or two gifts that I had to include that are over that budget limit.  Who doesn’t go over budget once in a while?

Debenhams, Grey wood medium candle holder, £16.00

 

There’s nothing more Gothic than a candle or two, so why not light up someone’s life with this Gothic style candle holder?

 

 

 

 

Debenhams, Viva Glam III MAC Lipstick £15.50

 

This delicious MAC lipstick is great for the mistletoe lover.  It’s also ideal for any immortal who wants you to kiss them with those red lips at New Year!

 

Debenhams, Mikey London Black small Skull Ring, currently at the bargain price of 29% off, now only £11.03 (was £15.75)

 

 

 

 

This black skull ring makes an excellent accessory during the party season!

 

 

Debenhams, DOIR Vernis Couture colour gel shine long wear nail lacquer – 982 Black Out, £19.00

 

 

This DIOR nail gel long wear nail lacquer is a useful addition to any Goth girl’s nail varnish collection, because let’s face it, witch or werewolf, we all need perfect, professional finish, nail wear.

 

BHS, Matilda Table Lamp, £35.00

 

 

This Matilda Table Lamp is the perfect choice for that special friend or family member who enjoys cosy nights in, during the winter time.

 

BHS, Chilli Skull Hot Sauce, £12.00

 

 

It could be a chilli Christmas!  Why not spice up that special person’s life with this Chilli Hot Sauce in a skull shaped bottle?

 

BHS, Holly Willoughby Small Square Filigree Lantern, £25.00

 

 

This Filigree Lantern really gives that Gothic feel and you can certainly lead the way with your lantern – all you need is a grand stair case, and darkness of course (unfortunately these are not included in the price).

 

Debenhams, Ghost Deep Night 10ml Eau de Toilette Gift Set for her, with 15% off, now only £21.25 (was £25.00)

 

 

Get into the Christmas spirit and buy yourself or someone special, this Eau De Toilette set.  Even immortal beings and spirits need to smell nice!

 

 

Debenhams, Jon Richard Jet navette embellished flower brooch, now only £12.00 with 20% off (original price £15.00)

 

 

 

Tell someone you love you them with this embellished Brooch, by giving them a little sparkle!

 

BHS, Black Bead Chandelier Earrings, £7.50

 

 

 

These Victorian style costume Earrings are certainly a bargain buy at just £7.50!

 

 

 

References

www.debenhams.com

www.bhs.co.uk

The Succubi Lure

Janet Cooper has contributed to the creative portfolio by submitting her first piece of poetry, based on the folklore female demon, the Succubus. Janet is currently studying an MA in English Studies.

With long dark hair, waving gently,

She wanders the highways late at night.

Her skin so soft, smooth and pale,

Mesmerising beauty with eyes so bright.

 

She licks her sultry, pouting lips,

Playing the damsel in distress,

To the stranger who crosses her path,

She reels him in, expect no less.

 

She’s hungry; it won’t be long of course,

Before her victim pays his toll,

Rewarding him playfully with a kiss,

Then slowly sucking away his soul.

 

Her eyes widen and shine, glowing bright azure,

When she takes the peak of her costly prize,

It gives her pleasure, she holds no guilt

As the last breath leaves; he dies.

 

She now feels strong, her needs fulfilled,

She skulks to the forest for her next kill.

Her immortal youthfulness burns bright,

The body she left, is all shrivelled and still.

Mistress of Morpheus Manor

The full play, Mistress of Morpheus Manor, by Mike Adamson is now available in the creative blog and for those eager to read, here’s a taster…

CRESSIDA: Perhaps, after the first hundred years it becomes hard to tell, as one’s values tend to drift away from those of society and become more concerned with oneself. (LOOKS DOWN AT THE DYING DOCTOR WITH AN AMUSED INTEREST.) They are so delicate, so fragile, these industrious little creatures, living their momentary lives, achieving, building, discovering, fighting, destroying, then passing into dust. What one creates, another dis-creates. An endless, ludicrous wheel of existence and only the cumulative memory of the species ever survives. That is not us, Grace. We survive; we will be here when the last of these is a memory. Our memory.

Full script (x)

First Act (x)