Mostrando resultados por autor "Stephen Donald Huff" en Todas las categorías

Song is either the progenitor or most favored partner of poetry; either may be spoken or sung. For better or worse, the vast bulk of it is scat, the fodder of time, which already stacks miles deep beneath our feet. One day, it will inevitably pile high above our rotting bones.

Poetry knits the fabric of our dreamtime dominions. Both are without substance, and both present the subjective essence of a spinning compass. Embrace such insight, if you must, but do so at your own risk – nothing here will light your darkness.

Mothers no longer name their sons ‘Adolph’. Almost everyone knows why. Though all innocent babes do not develop into monsters, all monsters develop from innocent babes. We prefer fiction to reality, because thoughts of the former easily yield to denials of reason, while the latter only reminds us of our common origins in the primitive. Steal a private moment now and listen to your inner voice. It whispers. Such twisted threads weave life’s strange tapestry. Of depravity, here find endless expositions, and of monsters, seven.

Within each human being lingers a mischievous child, but each of us also cages an unformed primitive. We keep our individual id-monster within the tempered bars of civility, yet it remains our secret delight of a darkened, unobserved evening and we make it our fondest fetish at every available opportunity. No matter how mightily we struggle, history scrawls with endless tales of failed self-control, so each scandal both titillates and disgusts depending upon personal sensibilities. Indulge your inner-beast. How it roars! Such twisted threads weave life’s strange tapestry. Of abnormalities...

Campaigning with Alexander the Great to wage war on a high plateau above an un-named eastern sea, he suffered a bite from a giant canine. His life would never be the same. Immortal and feral, he is the ultimate beast of battle and few live to describe his canny technique. Fur and blood will fly when the most desperate conflict in human history lets slip the dogs of war!

In a dystopian future, humankind has lost its love of violence. Peace has so long ruled the land that we have lost all means of confronting the resurgence of a genocidal revolution, which threatens to reduce human society to a state of chaos and anarchy. Only one defense stands between safety and oblivion. They are genetically modified warriors, bred and born to fight. They are Reapers.

One of the most pivotal waterborne engagements in history would not be fought ship-to-ship in the traditional fashion of naval warfare, a brutal duel between massive battleships. Victory would ultimately be claimed in the skies, aircraft to aircraft. Will humankind ever fully benefit from the sacrifices made that fateful day in the skies surrounding a tiny Pacific Island?

After accumulating a lifetime of esoteric knowledge and expertise in wicked magic, he has returned home to free his granddaughter. There will be hell to pay when Paw-Paw conjures!

Champions come in all shapes and forms. The same is true of cowards. In fact, most notable acts of heroism are not the results of well-considered, carefully laid plans. Rather, these are often spontaneous yet deliberate demonstrations of selflessness occasionally on display when normal human beings must confront life-threatening risk. Take a deep, calming breath now before you dare gaze into the face of death. Trembling, heed its heckling catcalls. Such twisted threads weave life’s strange tapestries. Of redemptions failed or delivered, here find disturbing variations, and of heroes, none.

Isolated by rumors of adultery and murder, ‘Cat Lady Cassie’ has long lived alone amid Florida’s sprawling Everglades. So, when several of her felines disappear one after another, Cass begins to worry. Lately, an eerie silence rules the hollows and basins that surround her porch. Even the largest alligators have gone missing. Clearly, a ravenous new invader has arrived to trouble paradise.

Rascals, rapscallions, villains, and varlets; all terms of a bygone era intended to describe the guy in the black hat, that perverse character of low virtue and strayed morality who forever ties the distressed damsel to cold, steel rails. Gasp! Within fictional fantasies, they are always guys and damsels, and they must wear black. In reality, we still mostly read about bad ‘guys’, but the women tend to fight back now, often with devastating effect. Tonight, the devil laces thigh-high boots over fence-net stockings before taking a turn through town. Be warned and beware. Such twisted ...

A silly titmouse once sang sweetly to describe love as “a many-splendored thing”. Perhaps this is so for some. For others, love’s terrible spectacle shines in its many violent twists and unexpected turns. Each feckless angle of its affection or disaffection invariably leaves a disfiguring blemish that renders exquisite facets of character from alternating impacts of tragedy, disaster, triumph, and ecstasy. Steal a secret moment now and listen to your heart. It confides. Such twisted threads weave life’s strange tapestry. Of love, here find endless variations, and of lovers, nine.

His heritage long since withered pitifully beneath shadows of boastful legend and shades of neglectful disregard, he will claim the familial patriarchy many years before his dying grandfather can fully prepare him for its dangers and demands. His reign will begin as it must end, with violence and a vast letting of blood.

While the vast majority perishes in quiet anonymity, a tour of any national monument quickly reveals countless names carved into stone. These names generally identify three classes of people; scribe, conquered, and conqueror. Indeed, if anything, life is an endless series of contests, large and small, but these stone-graven records typically ignore the latter for the former. Pause a reflective moment to ponder the future – anticipate all the boastful elite to be immortalized there. Seeking grandeur in concrete, granite, and marble, they will tell. Such twisted threads weave life’s ...

He is the scourge of the night, every bachelorette's worst nightmare. He has already killed many single young ladies, and he will certainly kill again. Tonight, he lingers outside the house of his next intended victim. Watching. Waiting. Every matchmaker claims there is someone for everyone. This is what happens when like evils meet.

This is the true-to-life horror story of a boy born without a name into a lifetime of loss, suffering and sorrow. Bestially abused throughout his formative years, the boy has the appearance of a patchwork monster by the time he arrives at a notorious desert orphanage in Pecan County, Texas. Stoic and untouched by the damage done to him, the boy named Manga will only learn to live after he selflessly rescues a girl named Heaven.

Continuing their unlawful flight across the broad State of Texas, Corporal Terrance “Tare” McGee (retired) and his four-legged handler, Perquisite Bombdog, must evade arrest and successfully do what they need to do. Whatever that might be. Properly supplied with ample snack foods, drugs, and liquor, and having collected an endangered primate named “Bobo” along their way, they must flee south into the rugged and notoriously violent Rio Grande Valley despite their lack of ammo for Bobo’s machinegun.

Tabloids invite us to gorge ourselves on tales of epic personal failures, and so many of us eagerly oblige. Guilty pleasures, we savor these stories most satisfactorily with a garnish of sex scandal, a dash of fiscal malfeasance, and a generous dollop of social corruption. Cup your ears and shade your eyes now. Peer into the gloom of your neighbor’s windows to eavesdrop. Such twisted threads weave life’s strange tapestries. Of tragically flawed characters, here find deplorable examples, and of losers, legions.

She is the most devestating weapon known to a galaxy filled with violence, and tonight she has come to Planet Earth aboard an alien spacecraft. To save us all. The key to unlocking this mysterious device is a naive, unassuming young cheerleader named Dee. Selected among the dwindling remnants of a population in the last throes of extinction, she alone has the power to control the terrible entity known as "Super B**ch".

This is reality television run amok, daytime programming in the bloody Coliseum. Survival is the game and vast wealth the reward. As the number of players dwindle, the prize increases with the danger. Only one can win.