December 16, 189X

An m/m/m eldritch horror romance novel!

Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewings, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breatehs fitfully
The music of the sphere.

Mimes, in the form of God on hiughs,
Mutter and muble low,
And hither and thither fly—
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the screnery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!

That motley drama—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore
By a crow that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout,
A crawling intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes—with mortal pangs
The mimes becomes its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out—out are the lights—out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.

The Conqueror Worm — E.A. Poe

About the Author:

Robin J Tischner lives and grew up in Ohio, a place that may as well be its own eldritch horror. He has one cat, dreams of a small place by the sea, and knows he would get eaten by a cult the moment he set foot in Arkham. Despite this, he writes more of them into the world.

A newsprint styled version of this site.

- Love interest found in Peter Spalding -

Peter Spalding, 34, is our first love interest, and our artist. A painter, tormented by visions from Beyond, compelled to put what he sees to the page, or be in excrusiating pain. A thin, odd duck of a thing, never clean of ink, paint, or graphite. The model of a tortured artist, slender, waifish, wide dark eyes and hair kept long, despite the style of the era.

Peter is more than happy to spend his time in his studio, leaving all the rest to Andrew. He has no interest in society.

The man has always been close to the edge of 'madness' and this only becomes more precarious once the visions begin. Peter is teetering on an edge.

Front facing picrew (credit @elena-illustrations) of Peter Spalding, a white man with long brown hair messy and hanging behind him.. He has adark circles under his eyes, compounded by inky tears. Paint stains the fingers of a hand that holds a pen.