The Dark Verse (Horror and Fantasy Fiction Podcast)

[Sharkchild]

I posted the fourth episode of my short story podcast, The Dark Verse, this morning. I think this is possibly the most twisted story I have ever written... so far at least. Give it a listen and let me know if I am out of my mind, or if I did something good. I will post the actual story to be read in the Horror Fiction Post if you choose to read it instead.

Listen to it or download it with this link:

Gift Of The Crossroads (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/4_Gift_Of_The_Crossroads.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/4_Gift_Of_The_Crossroads.mp3)

Or go to my website.

[Sharkchild]

The Dark Verse's fifth episode has been posted. This episode is the beginning in a series of dark fantasy.

Check it out at my website or listen to it and/or download it with this link:

The Changing Feyth (Part 1) (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/5_The_Changing_Feyth_(Part_1).mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/5_The_Changing_Feyth_(Part_1).mp3)

Or subscribe to The Dark Verse and download it through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[ferretchucker]

this is the first time I've actually listened to one and I have to say it's amazing. You've done it so well. How did you do the voices and the music and that? Did you use a special programme?

[Sharkchild]

this is the first time I've actually listened to one and I have to say it's amazing. You've done it so well. How did you do the voices and the music and that? Did you use a special programme?

Thank you very much for those compliments! I have put in a ton of effort and hours into this podcast, so it is nice to hear that.

The program I use, which really is a dream to have, is Propellerhead's Reason. I use it to create both the music and the effects on my voice. I also have an M-Audio keyboard that I use in unison with the program. I put everything together in GarageBand and use a lot of MusicMan because I am converting files all the time. In the future, I hope to get some better equipment, especially a nice microphone.

[novakru]

You're talented.:cool:

I've DL all your iTune Podcasts
..and added your website to my favorites.


Looking forward to future work.

[GorePhobia]

Darkchild is definitely an awesome cat!

[Sharkchild]

Thanks, Gore and Novakru!

[Zero]

meow





........

[Sharkchild]

There is a way to change a thread's title as it shows on the contents pages---thanks to Austin!

Episode six is out, so give it a listen when you get a chance!

Check it out at my website (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or listen to it and/or download it with this link:

The Bearer Of All That Can Be Felt (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/6_The_Bearer_Of_All_That_Can_Be_Felt.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/6_The_Bearer_Of_All_That_Can_Be_Felt.mp3)

Or subscribe to The Dark Verse and download it through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Episode 7 is out! Also, make sure you check out www.immurement.com (http://www.immurement.com)---its a webpage I made to create some viral advertising for The Dark Verse. If you like it, make sure you send the link to your friends and foes.

The episode can be listened to on my website (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

Between The Corridors (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/7_Between_The_Corridors.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/7_Between_The_Corridors.mp3)

Or subscribe to The Dark Verse and download it through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Episode 8 is up!

The episode can be listened to on my website (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

The Phoenix Imago (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/8_The_Phoenix_Imago.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/8_The_Phoenix_Imago.mp3)

Or subscribe to The Dark Verse and download it through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

you shall all know darkness at the hour of

HIS coming

I already know darkness, but I have not seen HIS coming.

[Sharkchild]

oh. . . but you will

HE is coming

Then I am very excited to see HIM. We will most likely have much to talk about. There are many questions I have always wanted to ask HIM. I am looking forward to HIS coming.

[Zero]

sharkchild - apologies for the 'his herald prank' which you may not have registered was just an old-time regular being silly

no offense and keep up the good work!

[Sharkchild]

sharkchild - apologies for the 'his herald prank' which you may not have registered was just an old-time regular being silly

no offense and keep up the good work!

Thank you. It makes it all the more enjoyable for me that the prank was played by one of HDC's own.

[Sharkchild]

Listen to Episode 9!

The episode can be listened to on my website (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

The Chambers Of Nature's Machines (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/9_The_Chambers_Of_Natures_Machines.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/9_The_Chambers_Of_Natures_Machines.mp3)

Or subscribe to The Dark Verse and download it through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Check out Part 2 of The Changing Feyth series!

The episode can be listened to on my website (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

The Changing Feyth (Part 2) (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/10_The_Changing_Feyth_(Part_2).mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/10_The_Changing_Feyth_(Part_2).mp3)

Or subscribe to The Dark Verse and download it through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Episode 11 has launched!

The episode can be listened to on my website (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

Sounds Of The Deliverer (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/11_Sounds_Of_The_Deliverer.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/11_Sounds_Of_The_Deliverer.mp3)

Or subscribe to The Dark Verse and download it through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[GorePhobia]

How come you don't come around much anymore and post anywhere else?

:(

This saddens me.

[Sharkchild]

How come you don't come around much anymore and post anywhere else?

:(

This saddens me.

My time is much too diversified. Perhaps I will allot once more some time for HDC.

[GorePhobia]

Alright we hope to see you contribute and hang out!

[Sharkchild]

Episode 12 is waiting for you!

The episode can be listened to on my website (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

Fate (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/12_Fate.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/12_Fate.mp3)

Or subscribe to The Dark Verse and download it through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Episode 13 is out for your enjoyment!

Listen to it at (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

13: The Missing Come Home (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/13_The_Missing_Come_Home.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/13_The_Missing_Come_Home.mp3)

Or subscribe to and download The Dark Verse through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Get Episode 14!

Listen to it at (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

14: The Captive Inside (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/14_The_Captive_Inside.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/14_The_Captive_Inside.mp3)

Or subscribe to and download The Dark Verse through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Episode 15!

Listen to it at (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

15: Bringing Back The Unordinary (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/15_Bringing_Back_The_Unordinary.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/15_Bringing_Back_The_Unordinary.mp3)

Or subscribe to and download The Dark Verse through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Here it is, Episode 16. If you have been listening to the stories, let me know what you think.

Listen to it at (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

16: Time Into Death (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/16_Time_Into_Death.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/16_Time_Into_Death.mp3)

Or subscribe to and download The Dark Verse through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

The Dark Verse is here---Episode 17!

Listen to it at (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

17: The Science Of Faith (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/17_The_Science_Of_Faith.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/17_The_Science_Of_Faith.mp3)

Or subscribe to and download The Dark Verse through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

The Dark Verse is now featured on iTunes!

You will find it featured in the literature section of podcasts.

[Sharkchild]

Face your demons! Check out Episode 18 of The Dark Verse.

Listen to it at (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

18: Normal Faces (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/18_Normal_Faces.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/18_Normal_Faces.mp3)

Or subscribe to and download The Dark Verse through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Zero]

do any of the episodes feature monkeys??

[Sharkchild]

Not yet, but the one in your signature appears to be a great candidate.

[Sharkchild]

Episode 19 of The Dark Verse is ready for your listening ears.

Listen to it at (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

19: Names: Unsonselvitzsol (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/19_Names_Unsonselvitzsol.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/19_Names_Unsonselvitzsol.mp3)

Or subscribe to and download The Dark Verse through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Episode 20, and the second installment of the Names series, has launched.

Listen to it at (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)) or download/listen to it with this link:

20: Names: Tillalel (http://www.podtrac.com/pts/20_Names_Tillalel.mp3?http://sharkchild.com/podcasts/thedarkverse/20_Names_Tillalel.mp3)

Or subscribe to and download The Dark Verse through iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Check out the first piece of artwork based off of an episode of The Dark Verse.

View it at (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com))

Download it on iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Here is a cropped preview:

http://sharkchild.com/images/namesunsonselvitzsolsample.jpg

By John F. Stifter (QuantumCathedral.com (http://quantumcathedral.com))

[Sharkchild]

The final installment of the Names series---Episode 21---is out. Also available is the an mp3 of the intro music for the Names series.

Find them at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Episode 22 of The Dark Verse is complete! It is titled Finding The Host That Sustains.

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[ferretchucker]

Check out the first piece of artwork based off of an episode of The Dark Verse.

View it at (TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com))

Download it on iTunes:

The Dark Verse on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Here is a cropped preview:

http://sharkchild.com/images/namesunsonselvitzsolsample.jpg

By John F. Stifter (QuantumCathedral.com (http://quantumcathedral.com))

Wow. That pic's pretty cool. Did you have to pay to get it done?

[Sharkchild]

I didn't have to pay anything; the artist is actually one of my best friends.

You should download the full version of the image from my site or iTunes---it is even better!

[ferretchucker]

Looks great. Your friend must be quite the artist.

[Sharkchild]

Yes, he is quite the artist. Check out some of his other work at QuantumCathedral.com (http://www.quantumcathedral.com). I think you will be blown away.

[ferretchucker]

My god! Does he use a computer? Those were brilliant, didn't look like paint. IF they were I'm astonished.

[Sharkchild]

Those are all computer generated stills. Each one of the images is created from 3D generated artwork. He could literally generate a still from any angle.

[ferretchucker]

Wow. That's incredibly cool. How long does each one usually take him?

[Sharkchild]

He spent about two weeks on and off for the one he did for me. Some of those can take several hours alone just to render since he doesn't have the huge computer power your Pixars and Dreamworks have.

[ferretchucker]

He should make fan movie posters. Or make really cool concept art ideas and send them to studios (if he knows about something coming up in a film being made).

[Sharkchild]

Yeah, he is working to get into the movie business. He is taking a few classes to polish up what he knows. Hopefully, one day everyone will see his stuff.

[Sharkchild]

Episode 23 of The Dark Verse can now be listened to and downloaded! It is titled The Skulker.

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Episode 24 of The Dark Verse has been released! It is titled The Coming Of The Unexpected.

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[neverending]

Hey Sharkchild- you ever gonna reply to my email & private message?

[Sharkchild]

Episode 25, Character Feast, is out!

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

There were many sitting around the table in the dining room at Neverlaster’s Inn. All together, there was the blind man, the ruler, the temptress, the demon, the thief, the philosopher, the jester, the card man, the hunter, the seer, the warlord, the ghost, and the masked mute. They were all dressed at their finest and they all came with their deepest imaginings.

The temperature in the inn, which was perfectly stagnant, cradled a humidity that left a thick contingency of air. The breath of it was harsh and a slight perspiration was common among the gathering. A cryptic, black chandelier hung low over the table with dozens of wax-dripping candles. Affixed to the outer walls was a handful more of candles in their dark, antique holders. The lights’ entire opaque glow reflected upon the red of the room—the wallpaper and the carpet—creating a visual hum of red haze. The ceiling was unique; it was pure black ornamented in gold foliage that danced like flames in very unusual patterns. And to blend with all of those things visual, creaking rejoiced throughout the crevices of the place, whether under foot, touch, or some other means.

This was a meeting of the faces of iniquity. They had joined together to discuss the fate of evil, its direction and its movement, on a hallowed eve, at the strangest of locations, and bound within the dreariest of physical manifestations. Very rarely did these meetings occur, but even more rare were the amount of those who attended. It was truly a unique occasion.

[Sharkchild]

Episode 26, The Something Beyond Silence, is out! This is the completing episode of a full year's worth of The Dark Verse, and there is much more to come!

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

The sound of a heartbeat is distinct. It is a ticking of time—a lifeline encroaching upon an end. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast, this ever-sustaining frequency pulsates towards the boundaries of the unknown. It represents knowledge—whether of reality or sleep it does not matter—but when it stops, the mystery begins. That mystery, which hinges on the brink of death, depicts the apex of existence. What I was, what I am, and what I will be are all erased by the ceasing of this simple cadence. But even now as I breathe, that mystery reveals itself from time to time. It suffocates the noises that surround me and blocks out the impacts and interactions of the world. It takes the beat of a heart, the sound of silence itself, and steals it away. And when silence is gone, something else has replaced it.

The warm crackling of the fire was enough to keep me content for a long while on the most still and cold of winter evenings. I had my wife in my arms and my two girls snuggled at my feet. My thoughts danced with the harpy-like flames while their sounds caressed my imagination. No one spoke, and no one wanted to. The tongues of light satisfied every gaze, licking upon the air with infinite delight and heat.

As I stared at the fire over time, my senses began to numb. Surrounding interferences drifted away from my attention, and even the sound of the flames themselves began to slowly evaporate from my ears. I looked at my wife and then at my two children—they were all in the same stupor. Eventually, that which was real became very surreal and faded into the sights of my thoughts.

[Sharkchild]

Episode 27, The Clock's Many Hands, is out! A new year begins for The Dark Verse.

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

My hands were always true. I relied on their dexterity for manipulation, their sturdiness for strength, and their gentleness for care. With hands, I led myself forward through the galaxies of all things. Just as an insect’s wings are its salvation from danger and guide to survival, my hands were the guardians and practitioners of my life. They were simple tools, but they held the capacity for feats far greater than that what was seemingly possible.

I used to stare at my hands, as delicate and worn as they were, and wonder about the future’s brethren. Every line—every wrinkle—depicted a trail and experience that cut deeply into the meat on my bones. Ravines, ridges, hills, bruises, scratches—they formed the map of my past. For such a medieval being, I was burdened with a horrible novelty of self-reflection. Garnering understanding should never have been an attribute of my very trivial existence, let alone the curse of my accompanying emotional flaws. There was always a certain nostalgia that lingered with me, though I did nothing differently than I always had.

Mechanical clocks were my occupation and gears were my expertise, although I did not work on them so much as I lived within them. I was very small—small enough to slide through cracks—but I thought nothing of it; it was all I ever knew. When my energy was with me, I would clean and align. When I grew wearisome, I would rest and think. Of my kind, I found none other than the rare glimpses I caught of myself upon the freshly cleaned glass covering the elderly faces and bodies of ageless clocks. The sight of myself was not pleasing and it took several days for the wearing affect it had on me to fade. I was content with being the hidden repairman of time: the plain, tangible, ticking relic kind of time.

[Sharkchild]

Check out the newest episode of The Dark Verse, Episode 28, Playgrounds Never Wondered About!

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

I awoke in a strange place—a land of repulsive architecture and grim colors. All I had with me were the clothes on my back and my cracked, fragmented mind.

When I first opened my eyes, they rested upon a structure similar to that of a monument. The building towered above me with enormous pillars and high ceilings. Very detailed intricacies laced the surfaces of each wall, including sculptures of desperate creatures reaching outward, deep carvings of symbols and characters, and varying textures of stone ranging from smooth patches to jagged arrangements. Leading away from this building’s large entrance was a great descension of stairs. The stairs fanned out as they progressed lower and ended at a small plaza. In the middle of this plaza, a dull, gray-colored flag fell straight and motionless upon a pole erected in a ring of ashes surrounded by burnt coals.

Spreading out towards the horizon, away from the monument-like building, were other smaller structures with the same artistic augmentations, but without pillars. In between these other buildings were several paved roads. The roads spanned until I could see them no more in the distances. Blanketing over the landscape was a bland sky that held a consistent murky green throughout its expanse. There was no wind or movement, or sounds for that matter.

These things were the trivial items of the scene, but not all that there was to see.

[Sharkchild]

My Halloween Greeting 2008 is live! Listen for your chance to win a $20 or less DVD of your choice from Amazon.com. The odds are very good for you to win, trust me.

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

[Sharkchild]

Episode 29 of The Dark Verse, The Fragmented, is now available for your listening enjoyment!

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

Pieces here, pieces there—it was one sick, twisted mess. I had never before seen such an awful and visually tormenting way to die. It looked like some almighty hand of gargantuan size had grabbed the poor man along with the ground, the chair he was sitting on, and the desk he was sitting at, and mixed it all together in a contraption of Picasso-death. Nothing was as it should have been, and yet, the pieces of it all actually formed a cohesive thing: the chair protruded from the man’s lower torso; desk drawers were rammed through the man’s abs and chest; hands, arms, legs, and feet were flattened like scrapbook material and hastened to several floorboards that were fanned out like the feathers of a peacock from the man’s back; and the remnants of the desk were everywhere in between. The man’s head was equally as appalling. There was no trace of his face, and that, most unsettlingly, was because it had been completely removed from his skull. There were no fluids, muscle, tissue, blood, brain, or any other matter that should have been there on or in that head; there was only bone, only skull.

I lost the contents of my stomach when I first saw the poor soul. I did not know the man—I was absolutely relieved that I did not know the man—but that did not in any way lessen the perpetual rot beginning to erode within my mind, haunting each image and thought with the residue of coagulated perversion. Looking away was easy, but what remained could never be erased.

[Sharkchild]

Episode 30 of The Dark Verse is a new installment of The Changing Feyth series! You may want to re-listen to the first two parts before checking out this one.

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

My greatest ally and most infernal enemy is time. It can change history and efface memories. It can create life and it can take it away. And to the immortal, time is the ultimate instrument of both plague—the uncanny curse of centuries of wisdom and knowledge and experience and pain—and revision—the gift of the possibility of perfection, relative, of course, to the individual who controls its direction. There are many rewards and follies of time, but it is these two that, existing as nemeses to each other, destroy any hope of blamelessness. Though I may strive for redemption, my guilt of acts past will always rest beside my heart. Each and every decision, whether selfless or selfish, shall hang above my head in a halo of eternal flames.

If I had lungs to scream beyond limitation, I would beg for the forgiveness of ages passed. If I had hands to number the devils of my years, I would sacrifice them to the lives I took and fiendishly displaced. My suffering can only end in death, but I cannot allow it to comfort me—I am undeserving; and if it came now, it would only be failure. I can only find redemption at the end of one path, and that is with the extinction of my race.

I will be victorious. I will finish what I have set out to accomplish. And though the odds of success have been unforgiving, I have marched forward effortlessly. There is something with me, something that has always been with me, and it is fighting for me, making my triumphs as easy as cleaning the blade-end of my whip. Perhaps this companion was that which changed me, or perhaps it has seen my mission and longed for nothing less than the very same outcome. And, perhaps I am its catalyst. If I am, I will be loyal unto the very end.

[Sharkchild]

Episode 31 of The Dark Verse, Mantis, Malevolent, is ready for your listening ears!

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

I vividly remember those things I did on the day of the coming of the Purpose Giver. I was chopping wood in the back of my cabin, preparing ahead of time for the oncoming winter. My arms felt strong as they led the ax through the wood with single strokes. Perspiration beneath my thick clothing created pockets of moisture that irritated me but could not hinder me. And, all the while, thoughts of companionship led me through the heartache of miserable solitude.

When suppertime came around, I had chopped more than enough wood, so I stopped gladly, despite the grand rhythm of my toils.

I created a fire in the fireplace and, once its flames became worthy of heat, I began stripping out of my many layers. Winter had not yet come, but the bite of the cold had.

Preparations for supper were effortless and I quickly had a pot of stew cooking above the fire. Aromas of beef, carrots, and onions permeated the warm air of my cabin, teasing my hunger with unavoidable allure.

After I had devoured my food and grown content within my dwelling, I pulled a book from my small collection and started drifting into the words there contained. The Secret Apparatus by Arel Terriblar spoke to me with eons of restless, inhabitable imagery; I found myself crawling within the words rather than reading them.

[Sharkchild]

Listen to Episode 32 of The Dark Verse, Pathway For The Dead, now!

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

There was a path that led to all places, but it grew weak. As a canyon of only slight width, spreading through the horizons of the universe, it fought to exist between the gargantuan pressures of surrounding landscapes. These landscapes, formed of all things malice and chaos, fought to bring about the end of division, while the canyon, the path—the journey of organized direction and linear decision—was the last component of perpetuality for the furnace of ongoing creation.

Through this path, the dead marched, uncountable, unending. Spirits imprisoned and appearances unrecognizable, these soldiers of the afterlife trekked to the reaches of all there was to know. Like mechanics, the dead acted as the gears to which things continued. They never slowed or stopped; they never spoke or resisted. It was they who carried the energies of life and connected all existence.

One moment the path was as it should have been, and the next, it was gone. The brutish landscapes pushed their way to victory, collapsing the canyon that had bred since the beginning of time. There were no more dead to be seen; there was no balance left to divide. All of the dead had been crushed, vanquished—all blended together.

And when this occurred, I came to life.

[Sharkchild]

Close out 2008 and start 2009 with the new episode from The Dark Verse entitled The Road Show!

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

“Step right up. Come see what ya’ve been waiting for—things ya could never dream of!”

The man who spoke these words with such easy excitement was a haggard looking, traveling salesman. His brown, greasy hair was parted to the right and his pants sagged with a loosely fitted belt. His name was Mick Driggler, but the people in my town called him Mr. Wonder—not for his talented speaking or illustrious products, but because of the very mysterious entertainment value he had been endowed with. He traveled with and sold unusual merchandise—things never seen or heard of—but the generous length of his temporary stay in my town was rather strangely due to a token of theatrics.

Once a day, Mr. Wonder would halt his business ventures, set up a curtain in front of his truck and trailer, and enact a marionette show of grand humor and applaud-worthy satisfaction. For this show, people gathered over and over again, never growing bored of the odd man’s amusing endeavors. People loved it so much so that they gave money to the man, giving him the incentive he needed to remain.

It was three weeks after Mr. Wonder arrived before I became uncontrollably curious about him and his enterprise.

[Zero]

are there any monkeys in this story??

[Sharkchild]

are there any monkeys in this story??

No, but something equally as mischievous.

[Sharkchild]

The Song Of Dusty Hearts, Episode 34 of The Dark Verse, is ready to delight the dark longings of your ears.

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

When I was young, my grandfather often brought me to the burial grounds of the nethpa, and every time he led me over some barren hill, or down some hidden trail, or through some thick forest, he would share with me how I might find such a rare and extraordinary place.

“The resting grounds of the nethpa can be found all around—the middle of a prairie, the center of a deep cavern, the dunes of an unending desert—but most never know they are there,” he would tell me. “The site must be undisturbed. By first glance there should be nothing unusually noticed; but, after giving it a second look, and knowing what you are looking for, those of the cunning eye would be able to discern the speckled dust.” At this time, my grandfather would stick his hand deep into the soil, dirt, or whatever rested beneath him, grab some, and hold it up so I could see. While my curious eyes burned into the contents, he would slightly shuffle some free. He then continued speaking. “And there, almost as clear as white chalk against the pit of a blackboard, the ashes of the nethpa can be seen.”

There was only one rule my grandfather had while visiting the nethpa: no singing. “Never sing to the ashes,” he always said. “The nethpa have hollow hearts and the sound of music fills and enlivens them; it reminds them of their deaths and allows them to act against them. They are not of the violent kind, but they, like any, would choose life over death.”

[Sharkchild]

Give a listen to Episode 35, A Megacosm's Secret Initiation Of Members.

NOTE: I completed putting together The Dark Verse's Volume I hardcover book (first 26 stories of The Dark Verse edited and revised) and it is now in the printer's hands. This grand book will most likely be available in April. It will have 5.5"x8.5" dimensions; be covered with black imitation leather; be stamped with silver foil on the cover, back, and spine; be dusted with black on all three sides of the pages; and it will include all original artwork by John F. Stifter (QuantumCathedral.com (http://www.quantumcathedral.com)) for the cover, endsheets, and each of the 26 stories. It's going to be good!

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

“Have you ever looked over the edge of the world?” asked the young girl sitting beside me on the train. At the time, we were passing by mountains strewn with large boulders, but my attention was on the features of the girl. Her hair was dark and her skin was light. Unusual rainbows graced her eyes, causing them to look like crystal prisms. When the train first departed, someone I assumed to be her mother had left her in the seat adjacent to mine; the train was rather full.

“No, I haven’t,” I responded. “I actually didn’t know that the world had an edge.” I did not confront the girl on the logic of her question because I was quite intrigued to learn more. “Have you?” I asked.

“Once,” she said, “but I can’t anymore.” She continued to look at me, head turned to the side, although she said nothing more. Her gaze was very stiff.

[Sharkchild]

Get Episode 36, Confronting The Formless!

The Dark Verse Volume I hardcover book is getting closer and closer to publication. I will be receiving a press proof of the book to approve within the next couple weeks. This is the last step! The Dark Verse is entering into the world of books!

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

The infinite regions within divisibility were my home. I existed in the distances of space—space void of finite ends. In these unfathomable places there was only emptiness; it was all that I had ever known. No matter where I traveled, I could find nothing different—for something boundless could not be filled, and something that could not be filled could not be whole. Almost all things inhabited the emptiness. My residence itself was tucked away in the spaces between mass. Anything corporeal had form and anything that had form could not be whole—no matter how big, no matter how small. Universes themselves resided within the gaps between pieces of atoms.

Space was everywhere there was substance and so greatness was with the powers of the ethereal—the soul, the principalities, good, evil. Their designs were unbreakable because they were not restricted to any form; shells of uncertain growth and uncontrollable molecules did not inhibit them. These unhindered entities were the Formless. The elements of the Formless could be anywhere—around me, in me, between me. They had what I did not have, and I hated that. The Formless and their orchestras of undivided existence were my enemies.

[Sharkchild]

www.Immurement.com (http://www.immurement.com)

[Sharkchild]

Listen to Episode 37, The Deviations!

I received the press proof for The Dark Verse Volume I hardcover book and it is incredible! There are a couple more changes to make and then we are going to print with the volume.

Listen to it or download it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or use iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

The dreams I had while I slept in the unsanctified darkness of the Slanterhorn Estate mansion’s attic were never pleasant. As I stared up into the ancient rafters, letting my body and mind be overcome by sleep’s oblivion, I sensed that the world of twisted things somehow pressed more mercilessly on such sites—places tucked so far away that light had lost its memory of them. If only a needle of day could have penetrated the dense capsule of my home, my heart would have been at ease.

There were no luxuries for me in the attic. There was a stiff, wooden stool, a wooden cabinet of clothes, a small table, a very uncomfortable bed, and two lanterns that were consistently replenished with oil. The rest of the attic was empty; nothing but darkness lived there. Not even the lanterns’ light could reach its far off distances.

My arrangement of items always remained by the iron door in the floor and I was not able to move them had I even wanted to. Each and every piece of furniture was bolted securely into the floorboards. The lanterns as well were bolted down—one upon the cabinet and one upon the table. Without being able to transport light, I never even dared to explore the full extent of the eerie loft.

I often made requests to have my quarters moved elsewhere in the Slanterhorn Estate, but Miss Donna always gave me a variation of these words: “It’s just not right for a boy of your stature to mix with the likes of our lords and ladies. Even Stickles sleeps with me out in the shed. You must simply accept your place.” But I could not accept my place, and I hated the attic.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 38, The Taking Of Hallowed Creation!

Get it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

Or on iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

The precious silver hovered over the menacingly heated embers. Its surfaces glimmered and sparkled with the reflection of flickering ash. Every curve and groove of this magnificent creation completed in shape to form the perfect fork—the Serpent’s Fork. A long slender handle fell downward, widening at the bottom into a wonder of embossed swirls. The head opened into four piercing tines, each with a precision of cut and detail to match the horn of a unicorn.

While the Serpent’s Fork suspended above the blazing embers, the heat began to influence the metal. The trueness of the Fork’s substance waned as it slowly unfolded with expansion. The head of the Fork bent forward and then the tines sagged to the sides—two tines to the left and two to the right. As they drooped downward they curled—the innermost tines twisting tremendously while the outer two only slightly.

Just as the molten Fork reached this moment of design, a gust of icy wind surged across it and the ledge that the burning embers laid upon, high within an almighty canyon.

“Splendid,” the Articraft said, before walking up to the circle of cooled ashes and grasping the Serpent’s Fork from the air. His voice lingered in the canyon’s hold. The Articraft’s hair was wild and gray, but his years were still youthful. He wore a dark blue vest, leather pants, and boots. The shadows in his eyes were deep, as were his longings for the unattainable.

[Zero]

out of curiosity - does the website get a lot of hits?

[Sharkchild]

Sorry for the late response. My website actually doesn't get that many hits. Most of the activity for the podcast comes from iTunes or other RSS feed websites. Since I began the podcast, I have had over 85,000 downloads--only a small percentage of those downloads have come from my actual site.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 39, Stumbling Upon Preterition!

Get it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

On iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Or on Zune

Excerpt:

There are dismissed places—not forgotten or invisible—but ignored without refrain. The devils of these domains are so vibrant that beings of any awareness trick their minds to see right through them, or around them—anything to succeed with avoidance. Nightmares are detrimental, but to gaze into these aces of sinister rule is to gaze at life tangled in the shards of splintering dread.

Odd might be the first word used to describe the terrains of such places. Different, bizarre, fantastical—these words work fine as well. But the topographies are only a warning—an alert to the unfortunate as to what comes if lingering turns to loitering. The Princes of Unnamed Horror are not for eyes to see, ears to hear, or mouths to taste. They are the overlooked, the repulsive, the shameful, and the blemishes of the most wicked existences. If only the act of their dismissal had the power to make them disappear. But such hope matters not—I stumbled upon them.

[Sharkchild]

Download the final installment of The Changing Feyth series with Episode 40, The Changing Feyth (Part 4)!

Get it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

On iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Or on Zune

Excerpt:

A body fell from the opening above me. It fell so fast there was no way to tell if it was living or dead. It crashed upon the stone floor, bones cracking and flesh splitting. And then another fell. And another. And another. And another until thirteen bodies had splattered across the floor in front of me—children, women, and men.

The carcasses then slid together, connecting at their heads: a sick star of mutilation. It rose. The bodies dangled like raggedy ornaments, every limb swaying without provocation as if some invisible thing were playing with it. Then the limbs all at once began to swing, lashing upon each other in an unsynchronized display. One by one the limbs stuck together; they melded and warped with their neighbors—clothing, flesh, bone, and all—creating a thick tarp of malformed carnage. Once this floating blanket was completed, it started to spin. As it spun, it stretched its hanging mass until all sagging elements elevated and flattened; blood danced from the strained, splintering wounds.

The unnerving conglomeration of flesh became a disc and rotated perpendicular to the floor; it spiraled its contents, sending them back and forth, back and forth, instantaneously between this place and another, exchanging elements, bridging worlds. Blackness opened; color digressed. Then color reemerged, more vivid, more plaguing, reaching out with stories of untold damnation and unconquerable agony. Sinister visions flashed before me and explosions filled with screaming resounded behind the portal of spinning bodies.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 41, Symptoms Of The Astral!

Get it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

On iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Or from the Zune Marketplace

Check out the upcoming book on Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Verse-Passages-Revenants-Imitation/dp/0982314116/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1240517122&sr=8-1). I am going to have the book available on my own site as well by the time I release it; the copies I sell myself will be signed.
*The release date will most likely change by a week or two.

Excerpt:

“Just get inside!” my mom yelled.

“But please, let me—” I tried to explain.

“No! I don’t want to hear about it. Just go to your room. I’ll let you know when you can come out.”

I climbed out of the minivan and went into the house. My body trembled with a mixture of rage and adrenaline. I went to my room and closed the door.

It had been another day at school gone irrevocably bad.

I was sick, but that did not stop me from getting into trouble. Having sickle cell disease actually made things worse. As if a magnet, I attracted the most fiendish people—the bullies, the cheaters, the socially elite. My sickness was a beacon to the devoid of morals, and I did not like to concede to their ploys. It was that trait that proliferated my folly. Being weak and different in appearance was one thing, but the impulse for people to use me was more twisted than the disease itself. I had resolved to never give in without at least a half-hearted fight with my feeble arms. It was those same, very feeble arms that put me on the school’s list of irredeemable troublemakers.

I sat at my bedroom desk with my face between my hands, staring coldly into the tattered wood. When the sun set, I did not even turn on the lights. I stayed in the darkness, festering in thoughts of hatred and disgust.

What was wrong with me? I thought. I was imperfect physically, but I did not understand how that encouraged, or predestined, my daily demise. There was no justice; there was never a verdict to explain how I was so punishable. My wayward health was the splinter of my life, but it was not the source of the pain; the source of the pain was the unending rejection.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 42, Thirteen Door Roulette!

Get it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

On iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Or from the Zune Marketplace

Check out the upcoming book on Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Verse-Passages-Revenants-Imitation/dp/0982314116/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1240517122&sr=8-1).

Excerpt:

I was handed a small, round cage; I curled two of my fingers around the s-hook fastened to its apex. The cage had a minute door fixed with a comparably insignificant latch. It did not—by sound and feel—seem to have anything within its grasp, although nothing could be seen within the tightly placed metal panels that formed the entrapment. These surfaces caught and reflected the inconsistent light of the corridor I stood in—which consisted of flickering bulbs overhead, pleading idly for the repair of the troubled circuits supplying them. At the end of the corridor before me, a mirror stood as the wall, reflecting back the entirety of the scene.

A woman stood behind me. Her hair was auburn and her skin was upon an age of older days. A strong musk emanated from her presence, encapsulating all of my senses. Even my eyes teared as the scent entered my nostrils. A green shawl draped across her shoulders over a pale blue dress.

In front of me stood a middle-aged man in tight jeans and a leather jacket. His nerves had the better of him; he twitched his arms and legs in anticipatory dread while his head swung from left to right, the long black hair on his head following in delayed pursuit. Slight mumblings left his lips periodically; whether prayers or words brought about by an encroaching insanity, there was no distinguishing.

Both the woman, the Elder, and the man, the Manic, had also been given cages identical to my own. At our sides, the cages were motionless, but in our reflections, the cages jolted back and forth.

Along the sides of our triptych ensemble, ten doors pressed. Each door was labeled with a Roman numeral; the first was given an “I” and the last an “X.” These labels were coated in thick, greasy oil. Their slick surfaces were magnets for the light and so were illumined vividly for all to see.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 43, The Hunt!

Get it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

On iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Or from the Zune Marketplace

Check out the upcoming book on Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Verse-Passages-Revenants-Imitation/dp/0982314116/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1240517122&sr=8-1).

The Dark Verse, Volume I: From the Passages of Revenants is NOW AVAILABLE at my own e-commerce shop for pre-order!

www.SHARKCHILDSREMAINS.com (http://www.sharkchildsremains.com)

Each copy is $25.00.
Each copy is signed by me.
FREE Shipping.
NO Sales Tax.
All major credit cards and PayPal accepted.

The first 50 people to use the coupon code "verse" when checking out will save $2.00.
And if you want to buy two or more books, use the coupon code "darkdouble" to save $5.00.

If you act now and use both codes, you could get two books for only $43.00!

I don't want you to buy my book from somewhere else; I want you to buy my book from me! So I'll always try to give the best price and deals.

Excerpt:

An army of ghastly forms waited listlessly at the gates of life. Each entity was unrestrained and raw—knowledge had yet to enter, conform, and orchestrate a platform of thought and personality for its cloudy mind. Step by step, they were pushed forward towards the slim opening in the gates. One by one they popped through the cavity, falling into the oblivion of consciousness that awaited them.

My father told me I had to be exceptionally fast and focused to catch an Alpha Spirit.

“You only have one try,” he told me. “If you don’t make it, then to hell you go to stay forever.”

I was confident I would succeed.

Hiding under the debris of multi-spectral galaxies, I waited at the crossroads of the physical and spiritual domains. I looked on as the Alpha Spirits showered down upon the Earth to seed the bodies of the living. I was seeking the perfect host—a spirit of exceptional promise. Once I had it in my sights, I would look nowhere else—not until the spirit had embraced me as its master and dragged me with it into life.

Shortly enough later, I scouted it, careening differently towards the Earth than the others amongst it; it stood out. I liked that. Without hesitation, I propelled my writhing haze towards it.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 44, Names: Apherdane!

Get it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

On iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Or from the Zune Marketplace

Order The Dark Verse, Volume I: From the Passages of Revenants NOW at my own e-commerce shop at:

www.SHARKCHILDSREMAINS.com (http://www.sharkchildsremains.com)

Each copy is $25.00.
Each copy is signed by me.
FREE Shipping.
NO Sales Tax.
All major credit cards and PayPal accepted.

Excerpt:

On the dull road called Mayberry Lane, I stood at the turn of the evening. I had just flicked a cigarette at a passing vehicle, watching as its cinder flashed into the night. In front of me stood the Cursory—a name given to a house because no one ever gave the place a second glance. It was tucked a short ways off the road, but far enough away so that even the bluntest detail of its presence went unobserved; it was the home of my love.

As I began my walk to the house’s secluded porch, a succession of pricks began jabbing the back-ends of my eyes. In patterns of circles, the pricks drilled, pushing forth into my retinas. The burrowing continued once inside my eyes; when in the middle, the digging descended and came out through the bottom. There, the apparitions poured invisibly out into the open; it felt as if they were flowing forth like worms through a meat grinder, but there was nothing to see—no evidence of any such happening. The sensation then ceased.

I had just turned twenty years old.

[Sharkchild]

Check out this Promo Ad I just put on YouTube for my book! John Stifter made it with CGI and some other goodies. I created the music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4SbUICOPRU

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 45, Names: Chillanthon!

Get it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

On iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Or from the Zune Marketplace

Order The Dark Verse, Volume I: From the Passages of Revenants NOW at my own e-commerce shop at:

www.SHARKCHILDSREMAINS.com (http://www.sharkchildsremains.com)

Each copy is $25.00.
Each copy is signed by me.
FREE Shipping.
NO Sales Tax.
All major credit cards and PayPal accepted.

Excerpt:

The chillanthon was waiting for me outside of my house, calling to me with its unsettling voice, tearing through my heart with its restlessness. I could hear its arms whip across its torso as they swiveled back and forth from shoulder sockets detested with freakish pivotal ability. It stood in the middle of the street, shrouded in an ink-drawn fog that swirled around the neighborhood as a cursed drape.

As it called my name, my family looked to me from beneath the dining room table with eyes that spoke of fear so deep that pus muddled their unblinking outlines. They could not speak, and might not have ever again. They did not understand what was occurring; I did. I had been thrust despairingly into an abominable fate. There was nothing left for me but to embrace the terror, pain, and incredible sadness quelling the last remnants of my life.

I took my wife’s face between my hands, followed by my children’s, drawing them close to me one by one. To each of them I left the grace of my departing love—all of the embers of goodness remaining within me to give. I left no words unspoken—no virtue unkindled. With a kiss, I sealed each of their spirits with my own, and then I walked out of my house to encounter the nightmare stalking my existence.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 46: The Ilks Of Devotion

Get it at TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

On iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Or from the Zune Marketplace

Excerpt:

Grand castles full of cities and heavy, luscious woods lined the horizon. Their mixtures of grays and greens flooded my sight with thick promise. It was Alvershiven’s Den; the long journey was finally over.

“Are you going to do it?” Ten-Men asked while he bent down on one knee beside me on the hill overlooking the magnificent scene. His pale yellow shoulders stood taller than my head.

“Yes,” I said, “this is what we have come for; I must.”

“Rest their souls.”

“Seize me, Ten-Men.” The star-child giant stood and positioned himself behind me. He wedged his knees heavily into the ground and then grabbed me by my arms, fastening me to the earth as surely as flesh bound by an iron stake. “Do not let go until I have returned and spoken the words of rekindling.”

And with that, I cast my eyes to the sun, capturing its rays and connecting them to my soul.

“Hivenitar,” I spoke.

A flagrant burst of light expounded from the sun and leapt through space and time into my being, filling me to the brim with astral, cosmic transmogrifying energy. It burned through my insides and masked my shape and form immaculately, holding my physical presence within Ten-Men’s grip as a glowing shell while my true essence was released. I then shot across the valley before Alvershiven’s Den like an arrow at the speed of light.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 47: Nigh Outlasting The Fear Of Death

TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

Tears from the heavens bore death like cannonballs ignited under the misery of hate. Like meteors sentenced to the fate of the world, these burning embers fell—fist-sized, amorphic masses of light ripping through plane. They poured through the hull and people alike with effortless elegance, spewing portions of things into a cataclysmic collage of mingling elements.

These vessels of execution uttered strange calls as they voyaged between the lives of those who would live no longer. Their unidentifiable forms billowed chime-like twinkles of melody mixed with discord. It was the baroque sound of demise.

Before long, I was falling from the sky, still buckled to my chair—a part of the grotesque spread of disastrous art. Pieces of plane were scattered about me as well as other hapless souls—whether alive or dead, I could not tell. I was falling from twelve thousand feet above the ground with nothing on me but the business attire I was traveling in. I flailed my arms to control myself, to rework the destiny of my situation, but the final page had already been turned. Death, I knew, awaited me, and with that realization, came a wash of terror equal to the scribbles of Alpher Myle’s picturesque unraveling in My Grave Departure.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 48: Severing The Lost

TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

iTunes (http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=266100865)

Excerpt:

I once had a best friend; I liked to call her Dime. The name came to me when I found a dime in my pocket during a time of need. She was always there for me; she was the “dime” in my pocket. Our relationship was brilliant. We shared secrets, experiences, and adventures. Dime was one of those friends that childhood memories revolved around.

It was not until our sophomore year in college that we were ever separated for more than two weeks since we met each other in preschool. Dime had been accepted into a study abroad program. I applied for the same program, but was not accepted. She refused to go without me, but I convinced her that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Hesitantly, she decided to go, and so Dime vanished from my life for a year to live in a faraway land.

—

I remember vividly the day we were reunited.

After a year of only letters, I was bursting with anticipation while I waited for her at the airport by her arrival gate. And when her plane landed, person after person walked by me, but none were Dime. Soon the crowd had dispersed and I was left waiting at an empty gate. I checked with the nearby desk and they confirmed Dime’s occupancy on the flight. For a moment, I was rather confused. Then I asked if I could be accompanied inside the plane to see if she was still there. A flight attendant was contacted and she came out to greet me.

“Hi there,” the flight attendant welcomed me with a smile. “Follow me. It must be your friend that’s still on the plane. We’ve tried talking with her, but she won’t say anything. Hopefully, you can help us. We need to clear the plane as soon as possible.”

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 49: The Man Of Letters

TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com)

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The Dark Verse, Volume I hardcover book is available at SharkchildsRemains.com (http://www.sharkchildsremains.com) as well as on Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Passages-Revenants-Verse-Imitation-Leather/dp/0982314116/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1250206882&sr=8-1)!

Excerpt:

Words were my masters. Their colloquial voices chattered in my mind, enlivening an unconventional form of command. They had agendas and hate and disgust, all of which brought about a tumultuous ocean of demands within my head, so vast that I drifted upon it as weathered wreckage—for I was but an insignificant muse bent to the will of these illustriously literate germs of my thoughts. Their deeds were mischievous and wicked, and although their actions could be assigned to nothing but my ownership, I knew their origin was not native to my existence. They were foreign; they were toxic. And in making tangible through writing their iniquitous flare, such intense, ravenous desire was conjured within me. I so desperately wished to banish their sinister saturation, but I was a slave to the feelings and erotica of their master-play.

These creatures of my mind coveted the writing of letters. With their incredible prowess of locution, they could bend circumstance—even life. Through my hand and the simple ink upon a pen, they could sculpt diabolical imageries, demented emotions, and jarring, torturing revelations. To the reader they were just words, and to me they were just words, but to the universe of things visible and not, sensible and insane, these markings that traveled from the holes of realms to mind and mind to hand and hand to paper were—in their perfect collection—unimaginable hexes. And so as the mind’s eyes of these letters’ recipients placed the words together, recreating them in thought, the workings of a dark, dark magic were birthed.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 50: The Concomitant

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The Dark Verse, Volume I hardcover book is available at SharkchildsRemains.com (http://www.sharkchildsremains.com) as well as on Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Passages-Revenants-Verse-Imitation-Leather/dp/0982314116/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1250206882&sr=8-1)!

Excerpt:

I was an ancient navigator. My mission was to collect data from the universe and pass it on into the vibrations of existence—stars, planets, moons, meteors—where there it would be embedded for the millions of years it would take until its presence reached an entity worthy enough to be susceptible to its slight, but powerful influence. What I did, I did out of reason—reason for understanding. What I learned, I learned to be a pollinator of evolution.

My mission was endless. I carried it out from within a spherical ship that soared through the distances of space. This home, and shell, enslaved me to life; just as my mission was endless, so was my life. I had been in the ship for so long that I could not recall even the most miniscule of memories preceding its launch or beginning. There was nothing I remembered except what I saw and felt: a round chamber of pinkish flesh surrounding me and fluctuating with the energy of propulsion; a chair that I sat upon made of the chamber’s same flesh that connected to my body, channeling nutrients and extracting waste; a panel of controls, known and used by me to direct the ship to the boundaries of the universe—even unto its ends as they further created upon themselves; a portal of visibility, lining the center of the circumference of the chamber; and knowledge—the intricate map of space that I unwrapped and then wrote upon into the grains of matter where the chance of discovery may later be probable.

[Doc Faustus]

We should exchange review PDFs, old sport.

[Sharkchild]

We should exchange review PDFs, old sport.

Let's. Contact me: [email protected]

[Sharkchild]

I was finally able to give my Facebook page a username. Become my fan!

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[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 51: No More Resistance

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The Dark Verse, Volume I hardcover book is available at SharkchildsRemains.com (http://www.sharkchildsremains.com) as well as on Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Passages-Revenants-Verse-Imitation-Leather/dp/0982314116/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1250206882&sr=8-1)!

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Excerpt:

I taped her entire body with thick, clear packing tape—every inch. I taped her fingers and toes to one another. I taped her legs together and her arms to her sides. I ran tape from her head to her shoulders, locking it in place. Her eyes were taped open; her mouth was taped shut; her ears were taped closed. Then I wrapped her over and over with the transparent tape, confining her within an immuring, mummy-like cocoon. Each wrap was a test of my strength—forceful and unmerciful—leaving not the smallest gap within the spaces of her imprisonment; there was no chance that she could have even moved a follicle of hair. The only vestige of this woman left unbridled was her nose, so that she could tap into air and remain alive. It flared and retracted violently, but I did not mind this movement.

Resistance, for this poor woman, was no more. There was nothing she could use to stifle my actions—not her movements, not her emotion, not her voice. I could crack a plank of wood across her, pour scalding water over her, or cut her into pieces and she would not even flinch. She was but a block of life—nothing more than a tree, frozen and unable to react to the dangers that befell her. This was my Mistress Doll Number One.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 52: When Eyes Have Seen Too Much

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The Dark Verse, Volume I hardcover book is available at SharkchildsRemains.com (http://www.sharkchildsremains.com) as well as on Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Passages-Revenants-Verse-Imitation-Leather/dp/0982314116/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1250206882&sr=8-1)!

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Excerpt:

My squad and I were at the end of our assignment.

A brigade of three heavily armored vehicles and twenty-four exhausted, anxious men raced through the canyon of Nazlit. Dust churned behind us in wellsprings of the fleeting memories we hoped to leave behind. If the mind could have held its thoughts as lungs contained breath, we would have clenched out those menacing jesters of contemplation until the journey was through—for the road was long before us. Even the reverie and hope of being home was too much a torment. All we wanted was the sound of rubber on road and the wind of movement.

Surrounding us, red rock ascended to the heavens, enslaving us to a route of unruly exit. The sky was daunting, hanging above in an incredible intangibleness—it appeared to be the covering of a distant country not connected to our own.

“Halt!” Captain Tershery’s voice boomed and echoed throughout the canyon. The three vehicles stopped. I was in the last. “Skillins, what is that?” the captain asked of the first in command beside him who wore binoculars around his neck.

I did not need any enhancements to see that something was coming towards us on the road ahead. It waddled, and it was no more the size of a man, but it was not man.

[Sharkchild]

The Dark Verse, Volume I was given a greater review than I could have ever asked for from Fatally-Yours.com!

http://www.fatally-yours.com/horror-literature/book-review-the-dark-verse-vol-1-by-m-amanuensis-sharkchild/

[Sharkchild]

Book Special at SharkchildsRemains.com (http://www.sharkchildsremains.com) during the month of October!

From the Passages of Revenants (The Dark Verse, Volume I) is on SALE!

Unsigned Copy: $17.99
Signed Copy: $21.99

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Special ends at midnight on October 31st

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 53: The First Innovation

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Excerpt:

If the stars were maps of history, then my heart would have been their maker. If there were a way to look within the earliest light still traveling upon the edges of the universe, then my face would have been the subject there discovered. Bittersweet were the eons of my life.

***

In my first memory, I was but an idea—a germ of thought traveling the endless roads of realms intangible and unspeakable where both colossal and minuscule entities roamed without substantial shape or purpose; the only purpose, if even at all, was to everlastingly be. The sizes of things varied, but not by any visible measurements; the hierarchy of existence was a computation of reason within the boundaries and scope of will—what made more decisions, if any, and what acted effectively on those decisions?

I was more of a virus, but unlike a virus that would destroy its host, I sought out to change it with the incredible power of suggestion. I sought to inhabit an entity worthy of the resources I required so that I might release what I held: innovation. I was the First Innovation—a robust malfunction floating in a chaotic system of purposelessness with a purpose that before me did not exist.

When I latched upon the entity capable of my inspiring toxins—an indiscernible mountain of being—the innovation ingrained within me came to life and set in motion an awful and instantaneous effect: the creation of physicality.

[Sharkchild]

THE DARK VERSE is 14th on the list of top 100 literary podcasts on iTunes right now!

Download Episode 54: Soul Divided

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Excerpt:

I stood behind a black, baby grand piano. The instrument was unfamiliar to me and its keys, both black and white, held reflections that heightened their alluring appearance. As I looked upon it, I longed to hear a sweet melody.

Surrounding the piano, two rows of seats filled with women arced in crescent form. The women’s ages ranged from young to old, and they wore black attire and grave semblances. Quietly, they conversed amongst themselves while I stood gazing out upon them.

This arena was set within the living room of my great grandfather’s plantation house—a home passed down from one generation to the next. The soft light of candles was the only source of illumination, and with it, the shadows danced more confidently.

“Please, can I have everyone’s attention,” I addressed the women. Their conversations ceased; their eyes probed me. “I would like us to begin our session.

“This piano was delivered yesterday—beautiful, isn’t it? Well, I have never played such a grand instrument before; I have not even tried. I want you to make me play it. Please begin whenever you are ready.”

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 55: In Placing The Titan's Emotion

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Excerpt:

I sat back in my rocking chair and subdued my thoughts with the gentle swaying of my bones. The chair, as well as my body, creaked with the tender noise of old age. In my vision, flames within the fireplace communed with one another and my son and daughter-in-law played an immersive game of chess. On an end table, my record player hummed off the tunes of Lanton Templestock’s Fifth Symphony entitled Invasive Things. The music very accurately encapsulated the essence of my feelings at that very lucid moment. Sweeping crescendo’s peeling off into a prominent melody from flutes purported the surreal story of the music’s hidden language.

The layers of things around me were oddly discernible and vividly clear. It was like the abstract entity of my mind itself had laid its head upon an ethereal pillow, hushing absurdities and harnessing the craft of time and space.

Beside me, on a small table, my cup of tea expelled steam as if in rehearsal with the notes that flew through its particles; its display unlocked the secrets of the universe. I found myself lost within their complexity, and as I stared on into the unknowable, the delusion of consciousness encroached, putting me to sleep.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 56: A Lonely, Imprisoned Stranger

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Excerpt:

I had an aunt who lived in the house beside my own; she was a very peculiar woman. The very nature of her peculiarity allowed me only rare opportunities to see her, although she was never more than a couple room lengths away. She called the inside of her home the Sterile Sanctuary, which, specifically, meant that she arranged her belongings and adapted her living conditions in a way that promoted cleanliness to an astonishing degree. To achieve such an endeavor, she put everything into transparent, plexiglass cases, creating pockets of living. These cases encapsulated everything from lights, cupboards, and dressers to the sofa and her bed. The house itself had a unique ventilation system installed that filtered and rotated the air over and over—never letting outside air in and never letting inside air out. The smaller cases were not connected to this system and were always airtight, but the cases that allowed human entrance were only airtight until vents that were affixed to them were opened—these included cases around the kitchen table, her rocking chair, and the toilets. Everything my aunt owned was protected from those things that collected in the air.

To maintain habitable levels of oxygen, my aunt housed a plethora of small trees, each stationed beside a window inside a case with a vent. These trees were the heart of her system and so she took immaculate care of them. Before being brought into the house and placed in their proper cases, the trees were hosed off, removed from their previous pots and soil, scrubbed down in my aunt’s own sterilizing solution, and placed in the transitional vacuum chamber connected to the house’s front door. In this chamber, the air from the outside was completely extracted from around the trees before they were brought inside and planted into pots and soil that had been scrupulously cleaned; a similar process was required for any item or person who wished to enter my aunt’s house.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 57: What The Water Means

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Excerpt:

On the top of a thirty-two foot long counter, I lived amongst a population of two-hundred and forty-three—a civilization wrought by the hands of man in the age of his illustrious prime. Our kind was called humids—life forms birthed from a mixture of DNA and infinitesimal computer processors. Our size was measurably minute, but our appearances were only marginally different than that of our creators. Life, essence, and love were ours to behold and share and abuse. And by logic and labor we fought to maintain purpose, although it passed like air through our lungs, coming and going, sustaining, then depleting. We existed for forty-four years and two-hundred and sixteen days before our world came to an end.

On the morning of our last day, I awoke to the sound of pandemonium. Cries of abhorrence echoed throughout the societal chamber on the top of the counter as those who became sentient to the noise made their way to the source and discovered the disturbance first-hand.

I got out of bed and collected myself. My head throbbed as if the bothersome noise had surrounded me for the entirety of my sleep and dreaming and only now continued into the reality that it was. When the haze behind my eyes had passed, I awoke my companion and alerted her of the situation. We, too, then set out to investigate.

[Doc Faustus]

If you're fans of Gaiman, Dunsany or trippy Lovecraft. Sharkchild's work is well worth checking out.

[neverending]

Excellent audio work too.

[Sharkchild]

Well thanks, guys.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 58: The Long Travel

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Excerpt:

There is a hidden labyrinth of pathways linking the worlds of things that can be seen. It can be found with the use of elementary magic. A rune, spoken as a beseecher to the fabric of life, is all it takes to beckon forth the portal and gateway to this land of overwhelming connectivity. The pathways are the Veins of Existence; they connect all folds of life together, from places separated by distances ranging in the unfathomable to doorways between universes. This conglomeration of veins is the chauffeur to all possible knowledge and experience.

I was part of a brotherhood of sorcerers who centuries before me had by luck stumbled upon the rune that led to the Veins of Existence. At that time, the brotherhood was only a congregation of petty common-folk, but over those same centuries preceding my upbringing, the discoverers traveled the pathways of the Veins and accumulated the knowledge of bizarre places, sciences, and magics, recording them as a history of all things and using them to tap into near-unlimited energy. Upon my arrival into life, this same brotherhood of sorcerers had become practitioners of godliness—not in the ways of holiness or righteousness, but in incomparable, awesome power and ability.

[Sharkchild]

The Kindle Version of From the Passages of Revenants (The Dark Verse, Volume I) is now available on Amazon!

Kindle Version on Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/Passages-Revenants-Dark-Verse-ebook/dp/B0032FNZDE/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1262209613&sr=8-2)

[Angra]

Amen hallelujah!!

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 59: The Power In A Father

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Excerpt:

It was a fare as ripe as an appetite had ever known. Its short, curly brown hair bobbed innocently. Its blue eyes blinked unabashedly. Its smile cut space curiously. The cheer of its mouth lit the atmosphere with the chorus of purity while it held the hand of its father, who led it in a capsule of abundant confidence. It knew no worry, nor the idea of it.

The Father and his child walked a winding road in a peaceful afternoon, enjoying the company of the other and the wonderfully cool breeze passing its gentle caress on the wanderer who was willing to stop and feel it. Through excited words, the Father passed to his son wisdom and an eagerness to be. Two miles off from home, this pair had not a care in the world.

But watching and listening keenly from within the smallest shadows that laced across the terrain, the Snatcher followed with nether stealth, diabolical and starved. The muscles on its limbs were paper thin, but they were quicker and nimbler than the speed of sight. In its mind danced a mechanism of musical craving—hunger by sound, by pitch, by noise—and its prey’s laughter was the ring of sweet devouring.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 60: The Stone House

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Excerpt:

From the letter addressed to the Strong, written by the hands of Tinus Perpentin:

There is an immovable place at the edge of a far-off, isolated cliff (this is all I can divulge with regards to location). On the outside it is but an enormous rock, seizing space like a gorging wolf. But on the inside lies the madness of evil—both the spawning pool and deathbed of ever-cycling nefariousness. Time wears on the exterior of this boulder, but within, time is departed. I can say assertively—with no one else believing this other than myself—that this place is a home, but not I, or evil and its brood, can possibly bear the turmoil in passing on the name of the master that lives there.

This place has been told of here and there in passing rumors—more incorrectly than correctly, for only I know of its real truth—and those tongues that have relinquished such woes have shriveled before blighted eyes. I would always say, “Better the tongue than the soul,” but the sting of such a comment is as potent as a weapon. It is as such that I have not shared any of my knowledge of the Stone House until that day that I have chosen to die; thankfully, it is that day, and I may finally drive away the haunts stored in my mind and soul. As I further write about the House, I will, to the best of my ability, describe also the way in which my life is taken, for it will assuredly follow my words steadily.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 61: Knave (Part 1)

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Excerpt:

I once had in my possession a unique thermometer I called the Gapetha. Using the buoyancy of five silver circlets in liquid contained in a tall, slim, clear cylinder, it determined temperature. If the temperature was to reach a very specific reading, down to fractions of a degree, these five silver circlets aligned in a pattern that, for while they were in that alignment, unlocked a gateway in the space between airs. The precise distance between these air particles, which would alter at any minor change in temperature, allowed matter from a place called the Devoted Man’s Bazaar to connect with the world. To enter the Devoted Man’s Bazaar by means of the thermometer was to let air slice between flesh, allowing it to come together again in a strange domain.

The Devoted Man’s Bazaar was indeed a marketplace, and it was operated by none other than the Devoted Man—the traveling being who was not man, but only called himself so. He engineered things beyond understanding and found ways to come and go, creating pockets in the continuum of space—havens where he could lead his trade at the apex of mystery. Under these circumstances, people acquired merchandise from his inventory, whether knowing or not—intending to visit or not intending to visit. More often than not, people had no idea they procured items from this inter-dimensional economy because the Devoted Man had his ways of blending his refuge flawlessly with the world and had other ways of masking his secrets. When he chose to carry out business, the Bazaar would appear in a remote location—never within or even close to a city. There would nearly always be a large, silver meadow surrounding the Bazaar, with the Bazaar itself appearing as a glowing, striped tent. And it always came at night—never when there was a single spot of sunlight.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 62: The Thief Of Timeworn Lives And His Fortress

NEW SITE: TheDarkVerse.com (http://thedarkverse.com) (now one of the sickest podcast websites around--if not the sickest)

NEW IMAGE
NEW INTRO

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Excerpt:

I sat beside my grandmother, who lay calmly and quietly within her bed. Nothing but her shallow breaths penetrated the atmosphere of her room. I intently watched her chest as it rose and fell. Only by the visual motion could I even discern and align the sound of those faint breaths with my audible perception.

My mother was in the kitchen cooking dinner. My father was in the den, listening to the radio. But those sounds did not matter; they were distant and out of mind.

As I gave my attention to my grandmother, I began to notice the uncanny vibration of life within her. It quivered with each breath as an aura of pale color. The hue of this color waned in and out of darker and lighter shades as death came and went, fighting for full, undeniable control. And with this apparition, all sounds vanished. Like a dream, I witnessed visual phenomena that I could hold no conscious understanding of or control over. Then, with a new breath, I saw the aura of life around my grandmother change as like the gentle change of a breeze. I walked over to the head of her bed, leaned against the edge, and moved in my face close to hers. Then, with what was supposed to be her last breath, I breathed. Before she could sip in, I snagged the breath from her, taking it into my own essence, stealing away those last seconds of life she had left.

For a moment, I tasted death. As a fortune teller communes with the future, so this breath within me told of death and its beyond. It tainted my insides, burning them yet tingling them with vibrant, magnificent feeling. And as this breath reached the ends of its paths within my lungs, I sensed the beginnings of an incredible power, an indestructible presence. This first breath that I had stolen was laid within me as a brick—the first brick lain towards the construction of a menacing apparatus. I could not fathom its shape or even guess at its purpose, but it now rested within me as an artifact of vision, destiny, and perseverance—those things required to complete its work.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 63: Blood Host Authentication

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Excerpt:

The blood determines the majesty of the host.

For most, the constituents of blood are—in order of greatest volume—plasma, red blood cells, and then white blood cells. But for those I served, these typical figures were not so. The Templars Aryiglen had a notably higher amount of red blood cells and less plasma, and thus, had a significantly higher density and thickness of blood. However, this extraordinary blood—Templar Blood—had more unique attributes than just its thickness. Those who contained this blood healed faster, lived longer, and rarely, if ever, got sick. This blood was rich and said to have been passed down from a lineage of beings that dwelled inside stone—prisoners of a world lost in darkness. In a distant time, several of these lava-skinned beings escaped and began a new life upon the surface of what is known, forging bonds with different races, blending and diminishing the occurrence of their special blood over the centuries.

When I served the Templars Aryiglen, I was known as a Validator. I was the authenticator and certifier of Templar Blood—for not always did the offspring of a Templar bear the blood of a Templar; its occasion was rare, and as such, it was in my right to prove or disprove this exalted blood’s existence. And even when the Templar Blood did flow in the veins of its host, its thickness differentiated. It was also my responsibility to accredit this thickness. The thicker the blood, the higher in the ranking of authority a Templar could reside. And so in my duty, I, a simple servant, was able to bestow the hierarchy of power amongst the greatest leaders of the Hurrowing world.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 64: There They Freeze

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Excerpt:

The Cantlebrin Bridge was high up and made of ice. It connected one side of the Rezlinought Canyon to the other, a railless pathway joining opposing caves that nested thirty yards down from the canyon’s ridges. Although made entirely of ice—ice partially fused, partially wedged—the bridge had been a reliable mode of travel for centuries; it had been crossed countless times.

This was to be my four-hundredth and forty-ninth crossing of the Cantlebrin Bridge. And the Nebulae of Dust standing rigidly at the other end caused me to believe it would be my last. These were nefarious beings that traveled in packs, leeching upon the misfortunate. And they were evasive; they could be solid or gaseous when desired, and travel to places unbeknownst to the world of man. To encounter a Nebula of Dust without the proper safeguard was to encounter a certain but slow death. Once upon its victim, it would oscillate rapidly between its forms beneath the flesh, never fully allowing either form to settle. In this manner it would burst like bubble-sized, miniature explosions while feeding on the wounded, pulped leftovers. The only defense against such creatures was a tempered rod imbued with a copper outer coating, which acted like a magnet, drawing the things away from their hosts—hopefully before too much damage had been exacted.

I had no such implement, and the base of the canyon—nearly two clicks downward—holding hundreds of pockets of frozen water—a sheath of giant, frosted honeycomb—would have killed me had the Nebulae failed. This was not a depth wisely gazed upon for but a moment. There was no course safe except to trek back the way I had come. And I would have reversed, if I was able, but such a choice would have left me in the cave upon nightfall, stranded as easy prey for the Coming of Death.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 65: That Which Makes Up The World

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Excerpt:

The articulate sound of the school bell’s conclusive note awoke me from my hazy hell. It came as if with swift reckoning—a domino effect to my distant self that lived the same moment fractions of seconds earlier and fractions of seconds later. Perhaps even a transfer of consciousness occurred, shifting me between universes via the cracks of unnoticeable time.

After the ring faded, I could not even recall what I had been speaking about. But before the children in my kindergarten class could leave, I quickly addressed them and gave them my tidings. Then they were gone, and I was left alone to the quandary of my day.

I was a good teacher, for the most part, but the days were beginning to drag. On and on they went, baffling my orientation within the world and my permanence within my thoughts. There was nothing within me to hold me still and keep me in tangibility. There was not a child that deserved my best; there was not a future that deserved my wisdom. I was fading away.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 66: Knave (Part 2)

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Excerpt:

There is such a thing as the chaos of fate—an endless-fingered glove, a maze of only dead-end paths. And there is such a thing as living separated from life—not by the escaping of death, but by the living outside of life in a place where its wholesome reaches fail. There is such living and there is such a place. The living is like being a dog: aware, emotional, but void of self purpose. The place is like a beehive—active, inconstant, volatile.

Life is linear: it runs from one point of time to another while immuring its contestants in a singular transition at any given moment, placing them on a one-track outcome: fate. There are boundaries in place—rules. There cannot be multiple futures or multiple endings. There cannot be purpose beyond what is attained in a two-dimensional timeline. But if not governed by these rules, then what? Life is these rules, and so to be outside of these rules is to be outside of life, and this uncertain place of living outside of life is the chaos of fate.

***

The chaos of fate was my home, and had been since I ingested into my body the myriad of Obstructions of Fate from the Devoted Man’s Bazaar. Life disgorged me in a mass of unscrupulous discord. Every particle in my body—down to the most miniscule—was pitted against every other particle in my body. There was a battle within me; every part and piece of me wanted to go a different way, make a different choice, follow a different fate. By these things alone, I was not human; I was Knave—a servant to pandemonium.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 67: The Summit And The Sacrifice

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Excerpt:

I found the perfect summit to erect the altar for my sacrifice. It was sunken down in a valley surrounded by mountains of tremendous size. Instead of aiding in the formation of the valley, this mountain housing the summit I eyed stood independent within the valley, standing against erosion of age old time—an oddity of nature. As I stared at this gem of existence, my heart raced with gladness. I knew there was no better place to proclaim and exalt the One Whom I Followed.

I had walked hundreds of miles in search of such a destination—miles covered by the scourge of rock, plant, and tree. Not a single civilization was remotely nearby; there were not even wandering nomads, and so certainly there were no roads, paths, or trails. My journey was dominated by coarse, seemingly impassable terrain. And all through this traveling, I carried with me an immense prisoner wrapped in a thick tarp tethered to my back that writhed in such ways that sent ripples of exhaustion through my limbs. It longed to kill me even in its capture, and it often came close. Every time I propped open its immurement of tarp to pour it water or feed it food, I cringed terribly at this thing that laded me; it only avoided death by the facet of my purpose.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 68: Filling The Empty Throne

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Excerpt:

I thought I had told the Doctors nothing but the truth regarding my wounds, yet their doubt in my words led me to not wholly believe in those insects of memories crawling behind my eyes. They wanted to know how the rings of flesh were once missing at the wrists of my bloodless arms and how a ring of flesh was once missing at my neck without the décor of crimson.

Indeed, anyone should wish to know such answers, so I told them the truth—the only truth I knew and the only story I knew how to tell. But the Doctors would not receive it. Every week they came and withdrew me from my cell and every week they asked me the same questions. Mainly their probing led to the defining of the role I played concerning the wounds, but my account did not involve any of my doings; I was a victim, and especially not of myself.

As the weeks came and went, I began to divulge less and less of what I remembered when the Doctors came to inquire of me. For one thing, I realized that the florescence of my details gave ignition to punitive results, and second, the line between nightmare and reality had become a pool of mixed elements, leading me astray from the substantial qualities of confident testimony, and beyond that, cognizance. I would rather have not remembered anything regarding the incident at all; that would have saved me great torment, or at least given cause to administer it.

***

The wounds they found upon me as I lay on the floor of my prison cell were deep—almost all of the way to the bone. They were circular cuts—rings: one on each of my wrists and one around my neck. There was no bleeding; the wounds were completely clean as if those rings of flesh had been removed by teleportation and the fissured blood vessels somehow instantly sealed.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 69: The Demise Sequence

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Excerpt:

I understand many things about life, how it comes and goes and how it exists in the present—in thought and in the unseen. I have the guide of perfect discernment—an immaculate compass of the ages etched into my bone and burned into my breath by a creature of creation long hidden from the eyes and knowledge of man. With such a tool, I have access to wisdom concealed from the wise. I know patterns, desires, decisions, even thoughts of those I encounter. I know their steps, their actions, their words even before they themselves have acted them out. I am a weapon to the world—a weapon wrought without contact, unhindered without touch.

Every day I awake and dress in the same clothes. I brush my hair the same. I eat the same foods. I look at the same photographs that slowly, bitterly slide from their importance in my past. And then I set out into the teeming populations of damnable promise.

I walk through markets and malls, amusement parks and stadiums. I wait, watch, and wonder at futures to be and futures to be destroyed. I marvel at the potential of all things good and all things terrible; I marvel at the possibility of altering one to the other and the other way around. Life is an untrustworthy machine laded with levers, switches, and pulleys. There is nothing definitive—nothing certain. Promises are broken, love is impure, and not a single soul can stand by its beliefs.

In these places I thrive and draw energy beyond measure. One life after another I manipulate and cut off from its source, letting it waste away as an ephemeral particle of dust.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 70: Names: Dietchelnin, Dietchellin

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Excerpt:

The castle of the Lord Brasher stood as it always had—sharply cut black stone jutting upward to create halls and chambers and towers and spires. The front gate, before which I stood, eerily hung open as like a gaping wound run dry of blood. No one foreign to these walls would dare enter, so the powers therein dared to leave it open. The castle’s sins had long outlived their mortal bindings, creating within it a world of evil unconquerable by mortal means. I had come to cleanse it; or, more truly, I had come to summon the vessel that would carry out the deed.

From a jug, I poured a puddle of clean river water atop the dusty road leading into the castle’s darkness. I poured enough to create a watery span of two feet. Then, with utmost concern and delicacy, I retrieved a rose and its stem that had been laced with string across my back. The surfaces of the rose had been intricately decorated with paint—the most absurd and archaic illustrations being the result of such artistry. It was such designs that were the spell of this summoning—the ideas and lore that reached between worlds of life into worlds of magic and played between the two, merging to define abnormities beyond the land of dreams.

I tossed the rose into the puddle. It landed silently and sent brief ripples outwardly upon the surface of the water. The display was beautiful, but the act was insidious—insidious, but necessary.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 71: Names: Craytick

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Excerpt:

Death is but a tangent of existence, for I have lived many different lives in different worlds through death—death being the medium through which I reached these lives. There are different layers of afterlives. They are each unique, and they do not blend. And whether or not all who perish will share with me the adventure into the endless haze of possibility is uncertain. What is certain, for me, is that death brings life and not unending darkness. Death is a button that each time pressed reconstructs matter and sets me within it.

So, as a drug instills its ecstasy, I have been led into a spiral of repeated suicide for its thrill of reinvention. No, this is not reincarnation; this is rematerialization in flesh and body with the full transfer of mind and memory. Each new world comes with the remembrance of those prior. And these worlds are both real and ethereal. I can live a full, new life. I can feel pain. I can die, but death only brings upon me that which I desire: rebirth. How I come to be in such places in the fullness of life after each death is the key to understanding the actualization of my situation—that I am caught in a cycle of wholesome ghostliness, a form of eternity.

Death upon death upon death is my gift and ability within the universe of known and unknown matters. Such worlds have I seen. Such pleasures have I experienced. Such creativity in demise have I expressed. Although, as with living comes disease, so with my infinity comes conditional powers of parallel iniquity. It has been in these various fate-defiers—deep in this cycle of ongoing living despite death—that a damnable thing has been forced upon me, an estranged evil more cunning and absolute than the full capacity of the mental construct, intellect. How terribly disease can drain life. How excruciatingly Craytick can deaden immortality. The further into the deaths I travel, the more Craytick reveals itself to me.

But let me begin at the end—the end of my first life and the beginning of all the others.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 72: Names: Vaucifyr (The Unreasoned Voice)

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Excerpt:

Metek, Alaya, Sturge, and Crim sat anxiously on hard wooden chairs around a wooden table in the basement of the Abandoned House in Semtar’s Forest. The basement was lit by candle-flame, but the moonlit, night sky peeked through holes and cracks in the faltering, aged floorboards above. Animals and insects scurried in the shadows. A strange scent saturated and impregnated the air. The atmosphere was dense and heavy.

***

These four aforementioned friends were those who chose to initiate the Inspirited of Vaucifyr—so to become commissioners of distant things. In vulgar communication, each of them had heard the Unreasoned Voice—the necromantical acoustics of Vaucifyr’s ever-reaching wisdoms—and followed it into dream, passing mind to it, allowing it to transfer elementary knowledge of outlying, pre-creation matters and instill seeds of ethereal connection.

It was not by faith or fate that these four stumbled into ear’s grasp of the Unreasoned Voice’s accounts. The four Pre-Inspirited, Metek, Alaya, Sturge, and Crim, had each read of Vaucifyr; they had uncovered peculiar tomes of explanation in the backwoods of Semtar’s Forest—in the trees, in the soil, in the stones, rocks, and boulders. By looking at these items, they saw maps of interspersed space that flashed before them like implants of memory. And when these testaments were visually ingested from those whimsical media—whether consciously or in the subconscious, in wood or dust or cloud—the Unreasoned Voice entangled itself upon the words in mind, birthing in sight, but culminating as sound.

Upon such interaction, the relationship between life and thought were altered while senses of unnatural utility were equipped. Each of the Pre-Inspirited was touched in a unique way: Metek by intellect, Alaya by artistry, Sturge by audacity, and Crim by translation—an ability to convert the Unreasoned Voice’s words to their own. Within these links, Vaucifyr sparked flames of otherworldly power and infernal curiosity, communicating to them the ritual for its access to their flesh and to their world. It was this ritual that they were about to perform.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 73: Entering Weightlessness

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Excerpt:

The cool, still water embraced me as I jumped into it and submerged within it, leaving the sounds of laughter behind. The water wrapped its ever-changing arms around my shape and held it perfectly. I exorcized air—one quick blast to balance my buoyancy. Then there was the Calm; I did not rise, I did not fall. The dawn of time ended and then began again, churning the moments of now into a serum of rich thought and sensation. There, within the water, I hung within a suspended capsule, unknowingly engaging an energy hidden from the world within the secret place of weightlessness.

I mouthed a series of ancient words given to me through the passing and connecting of distant minds—words I did not know of a moment earlier or a moment later; I knew them only as I spoke them for the brief moments that I was a receptacle of realms. Each syllable came and went like lightning—precise, crisp, gone. My eyes were closed. My limbs were motionless. My essence roamed free.

A fey danced into my mind’s eye—so beautiful, so alluring. She twirled around my insides, caressing them with touches of deep tranquility. “How are you, my love?” she whispered to me, over and over again—not intending a question, but instilling a comfort. The peacefulness was beyond me; I was beyond my self.

Then, suddenly and shockingly, there came a sting—one beneath each of my feet—ending unpleasantly the euphoric reverie of weightlessness’ tithing. The stings immediately grew deeper, reaching through me as if I were a puppet filled by controlling hands.

I tried to open my eyes, but I could not, or if I could, I still could not see. And with the blackness, the nourishment of my breath depleted. Panic followed, coming for me on wings of dissolute hope, plunging through the surface of the water to make its kill.

Not death, I beseeched. Not death.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 74: The Cry Of The Crooked

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Excerpt:

Upward I climbed, foot over foot, and hand over hand. Blood pounded at my temples while I strained to maintain strength and focus. Beads of sweat rolled off of my forehead and fell the depths of my course. My sight was set on nothing but the path I had already traveled. My feet were above me and my hands were below. Backwards I crawled to achieve my movement—the future reversed; the past to come—to trick the summit, to allow me passage. I took my time; I rehearsed each movement meticulously in my mind. I pressed fiercely my feet into stone and moved at the pace of a turtle’s stride. Double-jointed knees abled my legs with the necessary angles of grip and with pull. My hands supported me and helped spring me to new footholds.

I did not climb because I had to. I did not climb because I wanted to. I climbed because of ill-fated ability—I climbed because I could and no one else—not the strong, not the powerful; only I—one of the strange, one of the outcasts, one of the deformed of miscreation. I climbed Mount Usen Riddiddexdedet to prove the worthiness of imperfection and to scream its curse atop the peak of existence.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 75: The Truncation Of Being By Folding Flesh

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Excerpt:

Words hold power of times before, to come, and times unknown. They can exist in form or invisible space. They can exist in colorful sight or invisible sound. Words create and words destroy. They convert the weak and overthrow the wise.

It was words that in astronomical infliction determined my fate—just words. But words are never just words. They are eternal. They are ageless. They are gods of communication and confusion, knowledge and history, discipline and encouragement, worship and cursing.

A curse, yes, was what controlled my fate. A curse, spoken in words, was laid upon me as a bride is laid upon her wedding bed. Delicately, expectantly, soothingly I was bathed in the glory of the warm embrace of a sweet phrase. It tinged my skin and eased my heart. Then it struck with its black truth; it struck like the regret of an ill decision. It stuck its roots deep into my soul and took hold, never to let go, never to show mercy.

But how are spoken curses given assignments? Words hold no ownership. They are bound for no set destination. Many ears receive words, yet only one receives the curse, if so chosen. How does this present itself in the realm of logic? Such questions were never by me deciphered, but it did not matter for the curse was real and what is real, whether explained or not, holds place in the universe of action and diabolical reaction.

[Sharkchild]

The Searing Tongue 1 (http://thedarkverse.sharkchild.com/2010/12/16/the-searing-tongue-1/)

A dark, one-minute audio fix.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 76: The Image Of Odd Transaction And Collection

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Excerpt:

"Head down this way,” I motioned with my arms, directing the couple before me into the stairway leading down into the basement of my house. “This will be the most exquisite collection you have ever seen. I promise you,” I added.

“Very good,” a man, clad in a black suit, an olive shirt, and a pale, yellow tie replied. He then escorted the woman at his side down the stairs. The woman wore an elegant and vivid yellow dress that eclipsed her form flawlessly.

I followed behind the couple.

We entered the white-lit wonder of my basement. Black, velvet counters lined the walls and made aisles throughout the space. On these counters were displayed an array of ancient, unfamiliar jewelry that included bracelets, earrings, necklaces, and charms—some sparkling, some dull, some with rubies, some with emeralds, some with diamonds, some silver, some gold, some carved in jade, some carved in ivory, some carved in stone, some carved in materials unknown. The arrangement of lights on the ceiling angled upon the counters perfectly and completely, leaving no piece unenchanted by the soaking of light. There were pieces in this collection older than the known civilizations of history, found by me through means no archaeologist or historian could fathom.

[Sharkchild]

Download Episode 77: The Changer Box

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Excerpt:

The air was musty and smelled of a compound of fruit and charcoal. A veil of haze shrouded what distances I could see and those distances—that were not of much distance at all—contained the walls, ceiling, and floor of my current world; I stood in the center of a small room—a room that I dreadfully labeled the Changer Box. The reason for my placement in the Changer Box was uncertain, but it was inevitable that I would be changed—transformed, malformed, manipulated, altered, transfigured. There was no word quite suitable for the encompassment of the process, but there were words that could accurately capture the damnable aftermath: figure of form, but not of mass, wrapped about air without hold; screams of pain without voice; dying without death.

I knew of my fate because I was a witness to those before me who entered the Box and those before me who exited the Box. I had seen what they were before and I had seen what they were afterwards. It was a line of people, stretching to the horizon upon a landscape of burnt and aged colors—colors bound by the wilting, deteriorating, flattened archetypes of mass—which led to the Changer Box standing alone upon the same landscape as a cube. It was a line of people which one by one was converted into the creation of the changing, the wicked enigma. I had served my time in that line and it was finally my turn. No more would I witness; I was to experience.

[Sharkchild]

The Kindle Edition of my book, From the Passages of Revenants (The Dark Verse, Volume I) is now only $2.99!

The book includes 26 of my short stories.

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