Lunamatic

Last Wish of the Marine Biologist

Beachcomber makes grim, yet decorative, discovery

When I die, I want to come back as a seashell.

Death Cake

The dreaded death cake. Very dangerous. If you happen to see one, please send it to me, for, uh, safe keeping. Especially the ones with cherries. Those are particularly sinister.

The Death Cake lures its victims with luscious sponge, whipped cream, dark chocolate sprinkles, and black cherries.

Then it slowly squeezes the arteries, with delicious, chocolaty vengeance.

Meta Scary

Fear my merciless nostril assault!

Right, so, thinking ahead to Halloween. What’s really scary? Everyone is dressed up as vampires and goblins and ghosts that night, so obviously, the scariest thing you could possibly be is a giant walking garlic. So, I guess that’s what I’ll be going as this year. I just hope nobody out does me by showing up as a wok or a chopping board.

By the way, there is room in my posse for a wooden stake, silver bullet, and vial of holy water, let me know if you want in.

Vampire Unicorns in Space

Please, somebody make an anime about vampire unicorns, in space or elsewhere

Went to see some anime in the cinema lately. Bitterly disappointed to discover that I was not about to see some Vampire Unicorns in Space, but rather two separate things.

Natural

Wicked purple toadstool and his buddies mean you terrible mischief

Just because it’s natural, doesn’t mean it’s good for you.

Evil Toilet

I was going to give him a toilet-paper tongue, but actually, he’s menacing enough as it is.

Evil Toilet invites you to take a seat.

I have re-occurring nightmares about public bathrooms.

Ghost Bling

Bored with rattling his chains, ghost decides to go stylin’ instead

Well, I will admit, I wasted the first three or four hundred years moping around. I’d moan and groan and rattle my chains at anyone who’d come near. No wonder I never got any dinner party invitations! But then one day I noticed that all the young people were copying me. Me! A trend setter! Well, I cheered right up, I can tell you. Everything is different these days. Oh, keep an eye on the music stores by the way, I have a little ditty with Jay-Z coming out in April.

Powder

The vampire struggles to apply her foundation with no reflection to guide her

Ohno, she’s made that classic mistake; she forgot her neck. Blend at the jawline…blend…

Lined in the Grain

Look deeply into the patterns in the grain of the wood. Is that a wrinkle there? Is that an eye here? Is that a twisted screaming mouth?

Fifty years ago.

It was fifty years ago, on a crisp winters morning, with Padrig and Michael out bothering a football, like they often would. Ould Nan was hunching her way up the winding road, but they didn’t see her, there were free kicks to be had and even a few headers, and Padrig kicked the ball hard, and it hit the old woman, and she lay wheezing in the ditch where she’d been knocked.

She rose up on her spindly arms, and they’d never heard her cursing before, but she was cursing now, and it wasn’t the same as when Uncle Tom was back from wherever he’d been with the stink of drink on him, and bad words dropping out of his mouth everywhere, but she was cursing, old words, that nobody had heard for many years. The two boys ran back towards the house, the football abandoned. Michael tripped as he was running, and Padrig ran on because he was too afraid to even look back, never mind stop to see, and he dived in the door of the house and he never saw Michael again.

Everyone searched and searched for weeks but there was no sign. Nan died not too long after and took whatever she knew with her to the beyond, and nobody would have been able to pry any secrets out of those thin hard lips anyway. Padrig went out looking for his brother for months after everyone else had given up. He came back one night and he knelt in the long grass and he wept for hours not far from where they had been playing before everything turned out the way it did.

He lived his life, but he never forgave himself. He never married, and when the time came he inherited the farm, and eventually he lived there alone. He grew too old to tend the crops. He grew too old to tend the animals. He’d gather wood for the fire and drink the tea with night closing in.

One night after a fierce wild storm, he came outside and the pine tree in the front yard was torn up and uprooted. With the help of some neighbours he had all the branches hewn off within a few days, and later they cut the trunk into handy-sized logs for the hearth.

It was that evening, when the fire was lit that he noticed it. There in the wood grain. A face he’d never forgotten. A face that had haunted him for his whole life. Michael, his brother, wrinkled and lined now but unmistakable, Michael, looking out from the wood grain, a twisted effigy, and silent as a stone.

The Forest

She hides behind a tree, shyly, her long hair veiling her face. She beckons you over, and you notice her fingers. Something is very wrong here…

There is something living in the forest.

It looks like a girl, and it sings like a girl, but it’s something else. Don’t approach; don’t make conversation.

It does quite a good impression of a person, but there is one small detail that gives it away. Look closely at its hands, because it wears them back to front.