The highly inspirational, but blatantly superfluous speech of Sgt. Tough!

You bunch of whining maggots!

Okay, listen up, you bunch of nagging maggots! Gather around, take a knee. That means you too, Jenkins! Stop fiddling around with the crossbows. You're gonna shoot yourself in the foot if you keep that up!

Men, I know things look bad right now and I bet you'd like to be at home with the warm fireplace and your mom baking one of her warm apple pies, but instead we're stuck in this dark and evil forest with those monsters! SO SUCK IT UP!

These fricking monsters have been going at us for the last week or so and so far we've kept them at bay and fully intend to keep it that way! We've taken this hill and we're going to keep it! Some fine men died taking it and I for one are going to honour their memory!

So when we see one of those bloodsuckers coming our way, we're going to aim our crossbows and sent them straight back to the hot place where they came from! We're not going to whine and we're not going to nag! Johnson, even with one arm you can still fire a crossbow! Jenkins, help him load it and do it fast. I know he's only got one eye, but he's still the best damn shot we've got.

So men, keep looking for the skies, keep an eye on every dark shadow and look behind every tree and rock you can find. If you see two of their red, shiny eyes, put a silver-tipped arrow right between it. DID YOU HEAR ME, JENKINS?!

Men, I'd like to tell you that all of us are getting out of here, but to be honest, I don't know! I'm not going to lie to you! But I don't care if they bite you on the neck, tear out the flesh from your sides or cut the legs right from under you. I want every man with a working trigger finger on the ready! As long as you can scream, you're not dead yet! ARE YOU WITH ME?!

Sshhhh, what's that over there?

Jenkins, take the crossbow, move Johnson towards the trees. Smith, stop staring at your feet! Porky, move your fat body towards that treeline over there. Their a-coming, boys, this is it. Jenkins, didn't I tell you to stop fiddling around with the crossbow? Jenkins... JENKINS!

Jenkins, what's wrong with your eyes... their all red and shiny! This way they'll notice us for sure!

Oh damn...

Fancy Vampire says: I'm so misunderstood...

Fancy Vampire says:
Alas, I'm so misunderstood

First of all, I'd like to thank the good people from Floating Robes for giving me this chance. Others never were so kind...

A week ago there appeared on this very blog a post (clicketh thine mouse here) from a bitter vampire claiming vampires cannot be any different than blood-sucking monsters. Ai, how I lament this narrow-mindedness... Alas, sometimes we dig the very pittfalls we fall into...

For I assureth thou that there certainly are vampires with a bit more sensitivity to thine human world than this frustrated vampire hast thou believe. I, myself, often marvel at the extent of thine subtle nature and not seldom do I feel empty, bleak and alone after witnessing a wonder of human kindness...

My heart is a dark and haunted place, ravaged by melancholy. I often weep for my long lost mortality. Especially when the screams of the thousand victims I've taken resound in my ears... Their faces pass before my mind's eye in my most darkest hour.

For I AM a monster, doomed for all eternity to wander this vast world to know all the time, the only thing that can eleviate  my misery is to succle from a young virgin. Oh, how I lament the evil faith that has befallen me. It is enough to drive one to insanity...

But let me not fall too much into despair. It is enough that thy knoweth now that not all of our kind are uncaring psychopaths. And judging from the films of late, I daresay thou got the point. So I will now return to my dusky dwellings and leave thou in quiet contemplation. For soon another night is upon us. I will once again feel the hunger ravaging my poor body. I can only pray my mind is strong enough to resist its horrible call!

Let me therefore, translate my feelings into a poem:

Oh, dark night,

such wonders you bring!

And with it, alas, such evil plight.

My the heavens open with every dawn

And the heavenly sun shine down

on the innocence of every fawn.

Let me retreat into my humle pad.

To sleep until the evening's call

When I will awake, hungry and mad,

only not to feed, but to resist my heavenly fall.

With this, I will graciously take my leave. Pray for me in thine most forgiving hour. Or no, just leave it. I'm not worthy of thine thoughts...

Forever thine,

Fancy Vampire

Frustrated Vampire: We do NOT sparkle!

Frustrated Vampire says:
"WE DO NOT SPARKLE"

Hello yes? Are we good?

Okay, here we go.

So for generations on end us, vampires, have struck fear in the hearts of man! From the cold, wind-swept mountain tops of Transylvania until the exciting and bustling New World. And our encounters with the human world have been well documented. Personally, I've always loved to watch us lay waste to your kind! Even though the most documented cases you have are the ones where you always out-smart us. The pox on garlic and sunlight, I say!

But recently I've found, my race has been shown in a different light. Portraying us as lovely and courageous little creatures that won't immediately suck the life out of all the young ladies we meet. For crying out loud, we look like blobbering little teenagers!

Well, let me assure you, after a few hundred years of watching you mocking this planet up and fighting wars, you loose some of your sentimentality. We understand full well that we were put on God's green earth for one reason and one reason only: TO FEED OFF YOU!

And here and there might flare up some over-extravagant specimen of my race, donning a black cape and living in a fancy, albeit out of the way, piece of real estate, BUT even he understood that when the rumbling starts in the belly, you better stuff yourself with warm, pumping blood!

And so, let me set some things straight!

- We are not lovable!

- We don't care if you fall in love, we'll still eat ya'!

- We don't eat human food!

- We do not have children!

- We have no issues what-so-ever with drinking every drop of your delicious blood!

- We do not jump trees like some monkey!

- And worst of all, we DO NOT SPARKLE!

Believe me, people, sunlight is a direct threat to out existence and it should not be mocked! Soon you people won't even be afraid of us anymore! We already have scores of teenage girls clammering for our attention...

...and I got to say, thank you for that!

But still, I call upon the good people of Hollywood, USA to come up with more believeable vampires and soon...

On behave of vampires everywhere, thank you and sleep tight!

The Mucus Man Sayeth: There's a little mucus inside all of us!

There's no justice like
Angry Mob Justice!
-The Simpsons-

DEAR MEMBERS OF THE HUMAN RACE,

It's with a heavy heart that I write this open invitation to you. For while you are gathering outside with pitchforks and torches, yelling for my untimely demise, nooses a-knotted and kitchen knifes a-sharpened, my heart grows weary with despair. DESPAIR for what the rest of the night might bring for me. It might well be I do not make until the morning, especially if this plea falls on deaf ears.

I know I might be too horrible to behold! I know my countenance strikes you as disgusting and unhygienic. I leave tissues everywhere I go, my nose is swollen and red, my eyes bloodshot and when I sneeze, there's a good chance I turn everyone of you into the same blobbering mess I am today. For, do not be mistaken, I POSSESS THAT POWER!

But forget not, dear humans, that I have hidden myself in this house for the past five days. Forget not, that I have not ventured out into the world, I have not been among you, since this horrible transition has befallen me, this primeval curse! The Internet and television, oh those wonderful devices, have been my only links to the outside world as I am left to the mercy of my only caretaker, the only one who seemingly understands my current situation, my wonderful girlfriend. And I have chosen to be in this seclusion with only one goal in mind, and I hope you'll find it a noble goal and that is TO MAKE SURE THIS CURSE STOPS WITH ME!

I have no wish for world domination, I do not want to turn you all into the same zombie-like creatures that I have now become and I most certainly DO NOT WANT YOUR CHILDREN! I will not stalk the streets in the middle of the night, preying upon hapless teenagers making out in the park, just to sneeze on them and turn them into my own. I do not stalk the shadows outside your bedroom window waiting for the last light to turn out, before I enter and do my horrible business. And I do not go out into the world to search for others of my kind!

I just want to be left alone, to be left in peace with my predicament. I hope you will grant me this privilege. I do not need your pity, your compassion or your fruit baskets (although the occasional apple would be nice, Granny Smith's, if you please). I merely ask you to return to your homes, your wives and your children. Put down your pitchforks and stop yelling for my death, for I will tell you something that you should already know:

DO NOT BE MISTAKEN! I was not always like this. Once I loved, once I cried and laughed, I bled red just like the rest of you, FOR ONCE, EVEN I WAS HUMAN!

This is my cross to bear, this horrible affliction, and maybe I brought it on myself and maybe that's the biggest curse of all. But please, leave me alone to whither in my dwelling. Put down your implements of murder and your kitchen utensils and YOU WILL BE SPARED! For if you do not, MY VENGEANCE WILL BE BOTH HORRIBLE AND MESSY! Turn back, humans. Hark, your children are crying for their parents!

And thus I bid thee farewell.

For ever yours,


Marcel 'the Mucus Man' Admiraal

Caption taken from the Simpsons Episode 'Bart after Dark' as uttered by Seymour Skinner, Principal of Springfield Elementary. Picture apparently comes from Magic: the Gathering cards.

The Mucus Man Is Loose! (And off to the supermarket)

Beware, oh foolish Earthlings!

RUN, FLEE, RUN, YOU FOOLISH EARTHLINGS! The Mucus Man cometh! He does not know mercy! He does not know fear! He has known nothing in his entire wretched existence but all-consuming HUNGER! A burning, screaming hunger deep inside his gut! The hunger for potato chips to go with his Simpson Marathon!

See how his hideous face is obscured by a woolly scarf, tucked in the sides of the collar of his formidable jacket. It has been whispered that beneath the scarf lie HORRIBLE DISFIGURATIONS! Those that see them, do NOT live to tell the tale! Well, then how do you know, you may wonder. And that's one of those mysteries of the universe, people.

BUT OF ONE THINGS YOU CAN BE CERTAIN, that beneath his jeans, he still wears his pajamas!

Watch now, as he makes his way stumbling down the steps of his apartment, down to the street, cowering against the wind that CHILLS HIS VERY BONES! See how it crawls back deep inside his jacket so no man will ever see its horrific countenance.

And now, it turns the corner, crosses the parking lot, making sure no-one sees him. For they would drive him out with pitchforks and torches. If they ever got hold of him, they'd strap him in a chair and subject him to horrible experiments that are unlikely to benefit mankind in any way, but that would certainly delight the depraved hunger of the masses!

Closer and closer he comes to the mass of people gathering in front of the supermarket, growing more fearful with every step, the Mucus Man approaches. Will they discover him? Will they see him for what he really is? Or can he manipulate their simple minds? Is he indeed a master of disguise, passing himself off as mere human. BY JOVE, THE THOUGHT ALONE!

But it works, so far, he is in. Quickly now, past the vegetables, the meat, the bread. The candy rack, oh do not stop at the candy rack. He hesitates for one moment! Will he fall victim to his own weaknesses? Will he attempt to buy the sweet eucalyptus candies he's been craving for so long? BUT HE CANNOT! For they will undoubtely destroy the Mucus Man and turn him back into one of these weak human beings!

So he walks on, grab a bag of chips from the rack, oh perfect monster! That's what you came in for...

And now the final test. Shoveling its way past the various people, he is surprised nobody notices his heavy panting, his constant sniffing and coughing behind the scarf. Nobody looks into his blood-shot eyes. Nobody seems to notice him at all!

Now, the cashier, a wretched woman who cannot possible comprehend the beast that stands in front her! Scan the item, my dear, just scan the d#mn thing! Do not look up into its eyes, do not even pay attention! Tell him the price, go on, TELL HIM! Never mind that the clammy hand shakes when he hands you the coin! PEARLS BEFORE SWINE!

SAVE, METHINKS! But nay, there is still the trip home! Again, past the yapping housewives, the seated men begging for a coin! GO ON, BEGONE FROM THIS! Go on, my beautiful monster, and go thou back to thine home!

Five minutes it takes before the lock enters the keyhole and the blessed warmth of its dwelling leaps up at him again! Oh, now the monster can relax and take of this stifling scarf! See, young earthling, how horrible the deformaties of its face, see where the tissues have left deep indentations ON ITS UPPER LIP every time he blows his nose! Oh, what a horrific sight!

Let us not dwell upon it any longer, my young apprentice! Let's leave this wonderfully wretched creature to its own devices! Aw, hark, the first manic notes of its horrific cartoon already sound! Can you hear it munching, young earthling, MUNCHING upon its chips?

OH, THE HORROR, THE HORROR OF IT ALL! WILL IT EVER STOP!

Marcel 'the Mucus Man' Admiraal


BTW: the picture above is called Town Eater by LAURA WACHTER. She resides in Granada, Spain and has an excellent portfolio called Nova Contigo!


For more EXCELLENT monster pics go to CruZine!

The Mucus Man Telleth: My Neighbours Are Pod People!

Cthulhu Fthag'n!
Check out link below!

Maybe it's because I've been stuck in the house for three days now, maybe it's because my mind strays to dark and foggy places and maybe it's because my fever is finally frying my brain. But maybe, just maybe, it's really true and MY NEIGHBOURS ARE POD PEOPLE.

I've been noticing it for some time now and my girlfriend agrees. And unless she, as well, is just a figment of my overwrought mind, that must mean I'm not crazy. The fact of the matter is that: WE NEVER SEE OUR NEIGHBOURS. I have no idea what they look like, I couldn't pick 'em out of a line-up and, God-help-me, I would never be able to identify them on a slab! What a horrible human being am I! 

Except, I'm not. Everyone you ask will say that I'm a very reserved but friendly character, always willing to lend a hand and not at all reclusive (with the exception of these three days, but that's for the good of all mankind). No, the thing that really makes me think is this: I NEVER SEE THEM WITH THE LIGHTS ON!

And although this could be construed in a number of very compromising ways, what I mean is: THERE IS NEVER A LIGHT ON IN THEIR HOUSES!

Whenever I come down in the morning and start making my breakfast, surely one of them must be doing the same! It's a normal human thing to do at seven-thirty in the morning, isn't it? But no, there is no light, not a sign of life anywhere. Me and my girlfriend, we leave the building in total silence on our way to work. All the cars are still in the parking lot, some with flat tires. When we come back in the evening, same story. Cooking dinner? Not for them! They must eat take-out everyday! Or, and this is more likely, THEY FEED IN DIFFERENT WAYS THAN US!

We hear them sometimes, drilling holes, hammering away at something, building stuff, mostly at ungodly hours and we rest assured that they are still alive. Or at least mobile...

But wait, here it comes... Once a year, when the moon is full and the frost has left the ground, THEY COME OUT TO FEAST! I'm living in the south of the Netherlands which means they celebrate Carnival here, a pagan ritual designed to celebrate the end of Winter. And this is when they come out, dressed up and with painted faces, beating their drums, chanting their manic songs and drinking like there is no tomorrow. After these three days, they hide again for the remainder of the year...

So, you see, it may be my overcooked brain, it may be that I read too much horror, but I'm telling you, MY NEIGHBOURS ARE NOT NORMAL... One day they'll come for us, take us down to their haloed ground and initiate into their hellish feast. Beware, Northerners, THEY ARE COMING, COMING I TELLS YA'! PH'NGLUI MGLW'NAFH CTHULHU, R'LHEY WAGH'NAGL FHTAGN!

Marcel 'The Mucus Man' Admiraal

BTW: If you thought the mini-Cthulhu was adorable: check out My Little Cthulhu!
(No, really, this is not just courtesy. They have some funny stuff!)

Spring Rant: Out, out, OUT with the beasties!

Tweeeeeet!

With the launch of Beneath Dark Waters behind us and the rest of my career ahead of me, I did a nice spring cleaning. New template, new logo bar, new lay-out, new stories, new opportunities, new EVERYTHING! Hope you like it.

Aaah, spring, don't you love it? The snow melts, everything is grey and soggy before it turns green again, horny birds are tweeting incessantly and of course there's the obligatory no-I-don't-need-a-coat-look-at-the-sun-out-there-cold. Yes, the one cold a year that comes always for me and that pisses me off something awful, because IT'S MY OWN DAMN FAULT!

So yesterday I went running without my nice ultra-light raincoat on and for the next couple of days I'm paying the price. My head's clogged up, I'm sneezing uncontrollably, spraying mucus every-fricking-where and going around the house in my pyama cursing at the cats. And then come the comments:

"Well, I told you to put a jacket on." Damn girlfriend.

Well, I'll tell you something people. After three months of rain and snow and ice and frosty air and split lips and vampire days of coming to and going from work in the damn darkness, I'm GLAD! G.L.A.D!

Glad I went out without my jacket, glad I took a little too long to view the countryside in all it's Renaissance splendor and glad I listened to the birds tweeting in the trees. And if two days of sitting at home and feeling like shit are the price to pay, then SO BE IT!

I'm not sorry I leave tissues all over the place, not sorry I watch every episode of Fringe in rapid succession and not sorry I'm asleep at one o'clock in the afternoon only to wake up from near-asphyxiation by three. And you know why? Because, IT WAS WORTH IT!

SPRING'S THE BEST SEASON IN THE WORLD!

WELCOME BACK!

And to celebrate this, here's a little video I have to make due with since I can't go out and listen to the real thing:

Happy Spring, everybody!

Rant: Saluting the creative writer...

About a year or two ago, a new Dutch writer took the country by storm. This has been happening on a regular basis since the mid-90's, when Serious Writers stopped writing about WW2 or the sixties and started writing about current events. Most of these are devoured by the masses and loved by the critics. It seems like a win-win situation, doesn't it? Well, they lost me at Hello. Here's why. 

The guy that sparked this rant is called Kluun and his book is called 'A Woman comes at the Doctors'. The book is basically about a woman who is diagnosed with breast cancer and undergoes a series of horrible treatments and surgeries (described in very graphic detail) while her husband screws around with several other women. Yup, they made a movie out of it that was a huge hit. And it sparked a host of copycats.

Lovely, isn't it? But the Dutch writer is not alone. There's tons of writers of general literature who employ shock-tactics to make a point. If they do, that's fine. Thomas Hardy used it in Jude the Obscure and Tess of the d'Urbervilles. They're great books which show the evil side of Victorian class system in England of the 19th century. 

BUT, and this is all too frequent, some writers just like to shock people and there's no point whatsoever! This is my pet peeve. They put their protagonists through a world of hurt, rape, torture and all sorts of horrible events to the extent that it can't possibly be for entertainment-purposes anymore and they show or describe it in such graphic detail that the only word that comes to mind is 'Sadistic'.

If they'd say: "Hey, here's an extremely nasty story that I wrote," still I'd have no problem. But they call it 'Literature' and, funny enough, everybody agrees. And my main question to the world is:

Should literature, like art, not be uplifting and inspirational? Rather than leaving you feeling numb and depressed for three days? I always thought so.

Whatever it is you're writing, people, do it because it you love what you're writing. It'll show through the words. Make it entertaining, make it fun, make it so I want to run faster, jump higher, try harder, reach for the skies! Make me laugh or make me cry, but please, do not make me want to take a swan dive off my third floor balcony. The world can be a shitty place from time to time already without these 'literature' writers making it worse with their sadistic fantasies.

So I make an appeal to all the truly creative writers, the ones who have true imagination and can think up worlds filled with creatures both nasty and good. Or the ones who can dive deep down into the human psyche and turn all of us inside out. To the satirical writers who confront us with us, and do so with love and good humour. I appeal to the ones who take the time and effort to think up something to entertain us, to make us forget the world and our worries for a few hours and make us feel Alive! again.

Those I salute.

Newsflash: Doing what you want? Not always easy...

'Do what you love, no matter what anybody says.' This is common knowledge and any friend will give this advice after a few beers. But it is quite another thing to put it into practice.

WHEN I was about 20 years old and had just enrolled in the writing college in Amsterdam, I felt myself so fortunate to be surrounded by my intellectual peers! I reveled in their attention and took everything they said at face value. They were published writers, career writers and script writers with, in Holland at least, some very impressive work on their CV. 

FOUR years later, right around the time of my graduation, I hated them.

I DIDN'T hate them personally of course, but I loathed everything they stood for. I hated their preconceived notions of literature, of what was 'good writing' and what was 'bad writing', their little get-togethers at Wednesdays in the 'right' cafes, their red wines and their drunken evenings with their jokes that were really not very funny.

WHAT got me most of all, was their complete lack of creativity and their endless devotion to writers who so obviously lacked any creativity themselves, but had good marketeers. Maybe it's my countryside upbringing, maybe I'm just ranting about something everybody already knows, but since then, I have viewed literature and art in general with a certain level of suspicion.

AFTER my graduation I tried to be a Serious Writer. I spent some years writing up stories about everyday country living, invariably featuring characters that toiled hard for little reward. The stories were done in very terse and strict prose. If they were in photographs, they would be in black-and-white. When it was finished, I sent it out to various publishers. Of course, it was rejected every time. Countryside prose is not very hot in Holland.

AFTER three years of working hard, I had nothing to show for it except a handful of rejections and a serious lack of sunlight. I was tired and, admittedly, somewhat bitter.

I TOOK a vacation to Scotland and found an reignited an old love I had: horror. As soon as I got home, I set myself down and took one of the characters of my book and killed him by a tree possessed with the ghost of an evil old man. I sent it off to a magazine and it got published right away. I couldn't believe my eyes when I read the e-mail saying they would accept it. 

BUT, what was more important then my first publication, was that I had FUN writing it. For four years I had been drilled to read these literary stories that basically told the reader that the whole world was a bunch of crap, love did not exist and friendship is an illusion (this is actually the name of a famous Dutch song) and I was made to believe that truly creative genres like horror and fantasy were not the playground of Serious Writers. Writing a horror story felt somehow 'naughty'. I had a wonderful time writing it. And apparently people enjoyed reading it as well.

I DID away with my collection of Serious Stories and never looked back.

THE MORALE of this story is probably to do what you love, no matter what anybody says. And although everybody knows this in theory, it is quite another thing to put it into practice. Peer-pressure, the promise of golden mountains, fame, recognition or whatever it is you're after, these are all things that can make you loose sight of why you were writing in the first place. Beware of this!

Hope it helps!