Unheard Epitaph

Unheard Epitaph

A Poem by P. K. Vandcast

The cold had twisted me in knots
My muscles ached with pain
Slumber fled and darkness will not
Yield to the light or wane

The silence, silence ever more
No cricket, chirp or sound
The rest that was, it did not snore
No future left but ground

Mourners many, or only few
I know not, however,
The sunset’s warmth or new dawn’s dew
Vanish’d now forever

A box of pine or satin lin’d?
Important? Not to me
Uncouth or eloquence refin’d
Means nothing now, you see

The words of men will crumble when
That final day shall come
Speeches cold or grand will then
Escape the ear that’s numb

Men’s evil lives beyond their coil
As Shakespeare said it best
Their good is buried in the soil
When once they’re laid to rest

If a man’s body’s all there is
Left in that final day
How sad, how cold, how futile his
Best actions in this play

Yet, if there is a grander scheme
Beyond man’s here and now
It would serve him to live and dream
In its pursuit somehow

Learn a lesson from this, my end
And clutch it to your breast
Eternal silence has no friend
And folly is its quest

Unheard Epitaph

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Blood of the Sixth Review

Blood of the Sixth by K. R. Rowe“The air thickened with the scent of dust, but the clear night sky held no hint of debris. He took a few whiffs, attempting to identify the odor. The smell was distinct, not sharp or pungent, containing something more than dust: a bouquet of death— old death. Tim coughed, trying to clear the stench from his throat but the odor only intensified.” Chapter 2, “The Run”

While the insidious evil lurking in the streets of Port Bella Rosa, Louisiana sucks the life from its victims, author Rowe draws us deeper into the story with her alluring prose and flirtatious dialogue.

The protagonist, Allie, is likable, identifiable and entertaining. While Allie is confronted with a mysterious, paranormal force, she must also deal with demons of her own.

It’s evident that K. R. Rowe is a gifted writer and talented storyteller. She is a refreshing, imaginative and entertaining voice on the independent scene.

I enjoyed Blood of the Sixth and most highly recommend it to those who enjoy horror and paranormal thrillers.

Click here to check out Blood of the Sixth on Amazon, now available in paperback and Kindle eBooks.

Pretty Scary

Pretty Scary - So Pretty & Nosferatu

The Hebrew scriptures speak of blood as that which gives life: “For the life of the flesh is in the blood: and I have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your souls: for it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul” (Leviticus 17:11). Atonement could not be made for the soul, according to the Law of Moses, without the shedding of blood.

The Christian New Testament presents the shed blood of Jesus Christ as the ultimate (and only) atonement for sins as it pertains to the soul’s redemption by God and man’s salvation from God’s holy wrath.

Is it any wonder that stories of vampires would strike particular fear into the hearts of mortal men? Bloodsuckers, who take the source of life from the flesh of mortals, and thus, condemning them to eternal death since there is no atonement for their souls. This is a pretty scary thought.

The Vampyr

The first modern vampire story appeared in 1819 from a short fictional work by English physician and writer, John William Polidori (1795-1821). His short story? “The Vampyre; a Tale.” Yes, before Twilight, before Bram Stoker’s Dracula, there was “The Vampyre.”

So Pretty

For our first installment of “Friday Flicks” I stumbled upon this short feature called “So Pretty”. It’s an interesting take on the bloody topic. “So Pretty” may be pretty scary to some, not so scary to others. At any rate, I thought it was entertaining. Take a look…


In 1922, Nosferatu was released as an unauthorized version of Bram Stocker’s Dracula; unauthorized because the producers could not secure the rights to the original work. The film was shot in 1921 and directed by F.W. Murnau (1888-1931). German actor, Max Schreck (1879-1936), was cast in the lead role as the vampire, Count Orlock. If you haven’t seen the 1922 silent film, you can check it out in the video below…

Pretty Scary - So Pretty & NosferatuIf you enjoyed this article, leave a comment by CLICKING HERE. Thank you.


Antagonist - Flash Fiction


“I am something. I’m the somethingest something in the world.”

“Says you.”

“Yeah, says me.”

“Nothing,” he whispered.

“I’ll show you.”

“Will you?”

“I will; and keep your voice down.”

“I will not.”

“She’ll hear.”

“Let her hear. I’ll do as I bloody well please.”


“You should stop whispering.”

“She’ll hear.”

“Let her hear. I’ll do as I bloody well please.”

“Stop saying that.”

“What? Bloody? Okay, how about this: I’ll do as I damn well please.”

“Now you sound like an American.”



“Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.”

“I’m not listening.”

“And they swam and they swam all over the… DAM.”

“You’re nothing but annoying.”

“Boop boop dittum dattum whattum chew.”


“Or what? You’ll cry to your mum? You don’t want her to hear, remember.”

“I already told you, I’m not listening.”

“That’s not going to work. Even when you’re not listening, in your heart, you know I’m right. Look at yourself.”

Peter walked to the mirror. He stared for a good sixty seconds.

“Don’t think because we share the same name that you’re anything like me.”

“I don’t want to be like you.” Peter looked at the reflection of Pete standing behind him. Tall. Handsome. Muscular. Confident.

“Look at yourself again.”

Peter stared again.


“It’s a job.”



“Mummy’s boy.”

“Loving son.”


“Y-Y-You’ve no business—”

“What yeh gonna do, mummy’s boy? Cry?”

“Watch your voice.”

“Mummy’s boy.”

“Stop it.”

Pete banged on the walls with both fists and chanted. “Mummy’s boy. Mummy’s boy. Mummy’s boy.”

Peter tried to grab him.

Pete turned around, and in a single, smooth motion, pushed Peter.

Peter flew across the room and landed on the bed. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t. You need me.”


“I inspire you.”


“Admit it. I’m your motivation.”

Peter nodded.

There was a knock on the door. “Peter?”

“Yes, mum. Come in.”

Mrs. Sutcliffe entered. “Peter,” she said in her Yorkshire accent, “is Mick or Carl in here with you, son?”

Peter looked around the room and shrugged his shoulders. “No, mum.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Eh, just m’self.”

“Go find your brothers for tea.”

“Yes, mum.”

Kathleen Sutcliffe walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Pete whispered in Peter’s ear, “We’re going out tonight then?”

Peter nodded.

“Get some brass then?”

He nodded again.

“And this time, you’ll do it?”

Peter opened the top drawer of the dresser. He reached in the back under several folded clothes and pulled up a rolled hand towel. He placed the towel gently on the top of the dresser and unrolled the ends to reveal a ball-peen hammer. The handle was stained in blood.

“Because I’ll do it again if yeh ain’t got the stones.”

“I’ll do it.”


Peter nodded. “Time to fly.”

Antagonist - Flash FictionIf you enjoyed this flash fiction story, please leave a comment by CLICKING HERE.

Without searching it on the Internet, do you know the origin of this story’s inspiration? If you know, leave a comment below, or CLICK HERE if you’re on the front page of this blog.