Bloodland Tales

By M. J. Hewitt

"Once again, I lift my head high, but this time as an offering to the great gods far above, who in return, chant my name; and with this, my spirit leaps for joy within my animated corpse. With this sight, I collapsed to my knees in praise of the Dark One, and I wept joyous, bloody tears, the blood of the ongoing carnage, which, by the second, was unveiled from within my new, dark, gorgeous face. Thank you, for this is the most wonderful gift I could ever have received. Within darkness, under the cover of night, my tears gently dripped onto her worn grave. Praise Him, I chanted within my mind as I ripped away the remaining boards and then peered into an even deeper darkness, a darkness that could only be the darkness of the grave. I screamed at the darkness, but no sound came from my mouth, which had now transformed into a slit within my flat, white head. My body with great speed and agility, darted, without my control, into the darkness of the bowels of my new home, deep within the legendary mountains of madness, where I would lie in wait, for the coming of the wizards, of whom I would consume most heartily. My only child, I watched your spirit being released by the darkness of death from your glorious tomb of flesh and bone, and grief bit deep. And suddenly, like beautiful music, your voice I could hear within my head. And with this, more pain tore through me, and I wished for death. But I know more. The one who is as dark as the deepest night. He screams, "I am god!" For I am god. The twisted, dark tower is so tall it gouges the belly of the beautiful crimson sky. I screamed into the darkness. A spike from one of the ants was painfully thrust into my side, and then I was just left there in the silence and the darkness, alone and afraid, waiting for death to arrive. Skins from the bodies of the dead, now left red, raw, blistering and bubbling beneath the solar sun are draped around my shoulders, and untouched dead bodies are laid before me for my pleasure, for I am king, the king of this world that lies within the dark recesses of my mind. The only thing noted as slightly strange by the police was can ugly-looking, silent clock, which lay in pristine condition on the pillow next to the mortally-wounded head of one Adrian Tempcroft. For what seems like all eternity, I have been imprisoned within this bloated, translucent body of Spider God Atlach-Nacha. I have screamed for help from within this stinking chamber of darkness, but to no avail. I will blubber into your decaying face, but then I must split your skull for the hidden treasure of knowledge kept within the depths of your damp grave and hidden within the darkness of your death's head. And I, only I, will then conquer all."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Copypasta Publishing
• Release date: Aug 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463153215

Book preview

Bloodland Tales

Copyright ©2018 by M. J. Hewitt

Published by Copypasta Publishing

ISBN: 9780463153215

Do not make copies of any part of this short story collection without express written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real characters, places or events is purely coincidental.

BLOODLAND TALES shimmers with the decadent imagery that Clark Ashton Smith conjured so easily, and in these opalescent prose-poems Hewitt both acknowledges his debt to Klarkash-Ton" and progresses even further into a darkness-drenched universe without redemption, mercy, or salvation. There is no way to reach out to those we care for; only broad-axe slashes that leave gaping wounds. There is no bright afterlife with grace and holiness; only transmogrification through pain and torture as humans become parasitic spirits who lure others into torment. Love is destined to end in disillusionment and despair, and we learn our world itself is the black-tinged dream of distant alien beings our brains cannot even comprehend, beings who survive only through our suffering. You will find no words of comfort in this scarlet landscape. But for those who are able to realize the Baudelairean beauty that lies in decay, the Sadeian pleasure of witnessing another's hopeless prayer for mercy, the Lovecraftian awe of glancing into unilluminated gulfs in which madness dwells, Hewitt fills our descent into chaos with exquisite scenes, mixed in equal parts, of glamour and gore. I've joined the Cult of Hewitt. It's time you signed your soul away and joined as well.

- Michael Arnzen, author of Gorelets: Unpleasant Poems

I count newcomer Matt Hewitt among the strangest writers I've ever read. And that's a compliment because I read a lot of strange stuff. His prose poetry is remarkably original -- and a guttural snapshot of depraved madness. His writing is raw and vividly disturbing as fresh meat -- and just as muscular. His work pulsates with the throbbing gristle of a fresh wound; when you read it, you feel the narrator's pain and morbid loathing. This goth to the 25th power. And it always, always descends so deep into the darkness that there's never any hope. His collection, Bloodland Tales, is some sick stuff. I recommend it only to those with wide open minds and hardshelled hearts. Because Hewitt wants to pull you down into madness with the immediacy of his dark imagination. And he will. He certainly will.

- Simon Clark, world famous best selling horror author

Bloodland Tales is a unique collection filled with vivid imagery. It’s a dark journey with scenes that remain in your thoughts long after reading the last page. Thanks again.

-JG Faherty, author of Ghosts of Coronado Bay, Carnival of Fear, and the upcoming The Cemetery Club

With the Dulippa Tree, MJ Hewitt has created a dark and extremely vivid book, filled with otherworldly tales involving buckets of bloodshed, monstrous and demonic creatures, and truly disturbing scenes. I loved it.

- Testimonial

Piquant morsels of disturbing prose that are by turns startlingly gruesome and surreal. A real banquet of horror? Matt J. Hewitt is renowned for his dark poetry and his prolific ability to capture murkiness of the psyche. I am a huge fan of Hewitt and this terror scribe. His talent is astonishing! He offers bad relationships, devilish beings, and commanding emotions into surrealistic prose! His craft is bewitching! Within these forty chilling tales of panic-screams of the mind, his mind, the mind of the DARK POET! The dread begins with the gory goblet that reigns supreme, the dark pits of throat-tearing screams of vengeance. You have not read horror, wicked doggerel, and been in the dark, unless you have tasted these crimson stained nightmares of the darkest versifier I know, Matt J. Hewitt! Journey into the BLOODLAND TALES and let the fear seep through your veins whilst you sit by the flickering tea-light of the night and bathe yourself in his darkness.

- Brutal Dreamer, Editor and Author

Echoes of Poe here... M. J. Hewitt takes the reader on an inward journey into the familiar - albeit a fearful familiar that lays hidden under the bed alongside the dreaded bogeyman.Bloodland Tales is a collection of flash fiction and poetry which is intelligently written and throws a guiding light to the darkness it illustrates so well. I applaud the writer for a collection that probes deeply into the normally impenetrable...?

- Kate Hill, Editor and Author

M.J. Hewitt possesses an uncanny craft of weaving strange, beautiful and haunting prose into works that both captivate and elevate the imagination- then linger long after the last word is read. Highly reccomended. This is one of the best collections I have read in a long, long, time.

- David Bernstein, author of ‘Teenage Zombie Party

Bloodland Tales

M.J.Hewitt

I screamed into the darkness.

Bloodland Tales

COPYRIGHT

TESTIMONIALS

BLOODLAND TALES

THE DULIPPA TREE

ONE

BURN

SCARLET METAMORPHOSIS

LIFE WITH THE BEAST

PRECIOUS MOTHER

MY NEW FACE OF EVIL

THE GRAVE

PREPARE FOR DAMNATION

DEATH TO THE RIPPER

THE GOLDEN PENNIES

SACRIFICE

PERTHIAN KNIGHTS

NIGHTMARE WORLD

DEMONIC SUBJECT

IT CAME FROM THE SWAMP

THE FABLE OF ABDULLAH IKKY

ICHA THE WIZARD

THE GREAT WHITE WORM

SOFIA

JUST ANOTHER SUICIDE

DEMIGOG’S DREAM

THE STARS THEY SCREAM MY NAME

MOON CHILD

DEMON FLOWER

SCARLET GARDEN

FIRE

DRAGON

THE KEEPER

BABY DEMON

JUDAH

SNAKE DREAMS

MY PARADISE

BEAUTIFUL DARKNESS

A WATERY GRAVE

EASTER ISLAND

KING ARTHUR

DREAMS

DARK CASTLE

THE TICKING OF THE CLOCK

ATLACH-NACHA

ATLACH, THE SPIDER GOD

AN UNKNOWN PLEASURE

FORGIVENESS

WITHIN THE DARKNESS

BIG JOHN

PAN

THE NIGHT LAND

REDSTAR

MY BLOOD PRINCESS

STONEFACE

The Dulippa Tree

Odis floated above the lush branches

of the Dulippa tree.

She picked at a juicy blossom

gulping down in ecstasy

the sour tasting fruits.

She wept dark tears

black, pearly tears

which delved deep

into the beating hearts

growing in multitudes

beneath the Dulippa tree.

The hearts

they screamed

exploding and popping

in clouds of crimson.

Purple flies

they buzzed around

and bathed in

the bloody rivers

their bodies changing

fattening and elongating

their faces evolving.

Smiling faces

faces with licking, black tongues

which