a fabulous collection of weird, extremely bizarre short stories, as well as some highly strange but very interesting poems, written by author and poet Arturo Hernandez.
My OCD will not allow me not to write a poem or short story for Halloween. It’s my personal monster, telling me to do things others would laugh at about doing. Don’t be silly Art!
Trick or Treat
there’s a monster at my front door growling “Trick OR Treat”. Should I open the door? It is growling even louder “Trick or Treat”. I cower backwards, into the shadows, hoping the knocking would go away. “Trick or Treat” it continued even more loudly. I was shivering, not from the cold.
Some minutes had gone by and the knocking on the door had gone bye bye. I was again able to breathe without care. i was once more able to move, and I did. I strode towards the backside of my home where the beer in the frig lived. and when i strode into my kitchen, my lungs suddenly stop working for to my surprise the back door that opens into my kitchen was wide open, and was letting the cold October air in, and again i started to shiver, but not from the cold. I closed it, turned back towards the beer and heard in the other room the sound of a deep hunger like devouring, sloppy sounds, chomping, chomp, burp, gasp, chump, chump chump. I peeked into the living room and saw the monster stuffing his face with the candy i had placed in a big orange plastic bowl, shoving wrappers and all into it’s very large mouth with very large teeth. chocolate was running down it’s face like blood would if it were flesh he was biting into and not milky way bars. It stopped to peek at me, and smiled with the ugliest look on it’s chocolate stained face, “Trick or Treat.”
(short story about a lonesome zombie. I thought this would be a good time (since it is soon to be Halloween) to publish it here. Dark, funny, and a little gruesome so I warn it could be a little yucky.)
The Almost Lonesome Dead: Bluey
1.
It came climbing down the hill Following him is a pack of dogs Laughing at him. What’s the matter, pups? What do you find so funny? What’s up, pup? A pup slobbering Panting pulls closer to it. And barks. I don’t speak pup. It replies. As it got to the very bottom There were more dogs Coming from all directions now All laughing and barking. Hey pups. He said Bending To one knee, Close to a dead flower or dying Flower not yet dead all the way Dead just dying instead. One pup with really big blue eyes Starts to sniff him. What do you smell? Death was on the pups face And gleaming from its eyes. I am sorry. I didn’t know Death disturbs you. I’m not alive I’m a zombie. The pup just turned away From the Zombie, Heading Back to the Laughing pups. The zombie got up Smelled the air And began a walk. Aimlessly. Without reason. And the pups are still following him Laughing loudly Loud enough to wake the dead.
2.
The Zombie is walking slowly Dead as a doorknob But walking, and the dogs are Gone except for one, The blue eye one. It follows the Zombie Down a river bank As seagulls squak And ducks quack In the dog’s ear. Ah you again Does your nose Seek me? It just looks queerly at the Zombie And then quickly sits As though it had been commanded To do so and begins sniffing Itself. You are welcome to follow me On my quest to find brain. The Zombie cracks What seems like a rotten Grin, exposing maggot like teeth (sparse) as it smiles. Then sits down by Bluey Pets him with his more bone Than flesh hand, tenderly. No worries mate I eat Only human brain. Do you mind if I call you Bluey. Bluey whispers a bark And licks the rotten face From forehead to chin. So you agree. Bluey it will be. The Zombie grins as a fly Exits his mouth. You can bark me Epsom. My friends call me Epsom. And you are a friend.
The Almost Lonesome Dead: Epsom
1.
He is alive. He knows this Because his skin is warm Touched by the sun.
He still breathes The air around No matter the virus All around. He is wearing a mask Over his mouth To keep the virus out. He washes his hands And makes sure he is 5 feet Apart from people crowding So as to stay alive To stay human With only the need To drink water. To eat hamburgers And fries. He is a good protective Person. No fucking zovid is gonna Make him die And come back as the Undead brain eaters That roam around his House And on occasion In the super markets.
2.
And yet Epsom got (with his mask on) bit a few times By his rabid friend Nelson.
Nelson his best man at his wedding Nelson who got him laid for the 1st time Nelson who got Epsom to drink His first shot of Jack Nelson who introduced him To Mary Jane. Not the girl but The drug. Nelson bit him on his back and His right arm. Nelson. His best friend. Only friend in the whole infested World. Oh Nelson why?
3.
Epsom rises from the Dead Yet his buddy Nelson with a Shot to his head Stays dead Epsom continues dead And wanting brains Yet Nelson is dead Again.
The Almost Lonesome Dead:The Journey
Bluey is Panting
Water is no where To be found
No where near or around.
Epsom is salivating
He finally sees brains
And his infection has him well trained.
To follow the brains.
There Bluey. See the brains?
Bluey barks wagging his tail.
And starts laughing
I agree pup. It is funny.
The family of 3 see Epsom and
Begins preparations to thwart
Him and his laughing pup.
2. The family of 3
Dad grabs the hatchet
And mama the sword
(Cutlass she had picked up
From Mega Con)
Little one called sue
Is crying.
Stand behind me Dad tells
Them his arms holding them
Back like some magical shield.
Dad hears Epsom
Moan and he too moans
Epsom is creeping closer
Its almost over
Epsom takes the family
Eating them happily.
Bluey is wagging his
Tail
Without fail.
In the attack, however
Dad was able to take Epsom’s
Arm off cleanly.
But that is not how one takes
out a zombie properly.
The Almost Lonesome Dead:
Epsom Dies Once Again
Espom dies once again,
This time with dull knife through his head
This will surely make him dead.
Epsom buckles; on the ground dead, Bluey begins to lick his face,
The blood, and the rotting flesh; fiercely lapping up Epsom’s blood,
Chewing on the rot and the maggots squirming in the rot.
The man with the murder weapon, dripping blood, in hand, inspects the gruesome final scene,
Cleans his knife with his dirty blue shirt,
Spits at the dog, turns, and heads back to his safe room on the hill.
Some scary pumpkin carving I did to scare away the evil spirits tonight. I could have use this last night as a scary witch called Crow woke me up in the middle of night (at first I thought it was my wife trying to wake me up and I kept telling her no I don’t want to wake up). I haven’t had a night terror in a very long time. I could not go back to sleep for almost an hour. I could still feel her presence. Very creepy indeed.
Creepy poetry for today. You know because it Halloween. I wrote this one a long time ago before the twin towers attack in 2000.
Bomb blasted eyes like falling red stars Showering down from the filthy sky, Landing near their toes, not too far from where they lie Holding heavy guns and handy bombs and waiting to die. Foreign creatures from afar Appearing from behind iron curtains, Shrieking war cries, trampling, galloping towards war, With sharpened spears certain To slice head and open guts Certain to spill blood in lots. On both sides now, reaching for peace are warriors rising towards God. The end has been started, Thus then the dead be carted.
Arturo Hernandez 1-31-92I wrote this one a very long time ago. it’s from my Uneasy Thoughts collection of dark poems. Perfect for Halloween.
The man saw it, the moon white as snow, high above his head. His eyes were wide open as wide as a grave is dead. It was shinning brightly, glowing upon the ground and upon the puddles of blood in front of him. He watched as bats and creepy worms, roaming in the bloodied dirt, gradually become long shadows: and he smiled at them as they sped and squirmed by him. Showers of blood and rain came down quickly; thick drops of blood smacking the top of his head, globs splashing into his eyes as he looked upward towards the dark sky– someone had been thrashed to death above his head. The bloody rain seeped into his mouth as he spotted some other unfortunate in front of him split into four parts. “Come to Hell!” the unfortunate one hollered out to the man as he lunged out towards him with all four parts. “Join us tonight! Come join the band of the dead, all the ones dead and gone and dismembered!” The man nodded, then together, parts and whole, light and darkness, into the night they merged and devoured themselves into each other: their hands, feet, brains, ligaments all into one part. Into the night. Arturo Hernandez 1-31-92
Poems by Arturo Hernandez 