Literature

The Room At The End Of The Hall

Eerie and atmospheric, THE ROOM AT THE END OF THE HALL by Lori R. Lopez unfolds in the vein of an American Gothic Ghost Story: suspenseful, thrilling, dripping with chills . . .

The Color Of Evil

In THE COLOR OF EVIL by Lori R. Lopez, a mysterious woman appeals to a Nun at a Convent for help with her strange affliction.

Cryptic Consequences: A Trio Of Tingling Tales

Ghoulish Horror Host MISTER MACABRE introduces three Shorts by Lori R. Lopez to read before turning off the lights and allowing Night’s inhabitants to roam.

The Queen Of Redmir

A legendary archer is summoned from his tomb to uncover a plot against a queen and help regain her throne in the third LASTENBERG tale.

The Object

What terrible event turned a young woman’s hair white in a matter of minutes, and why is she spending Christmas Eve under observation in the Psychiatric Ward of a hospital?

The Dark Down There

The Darkness beckons in this eerie fable of a night gone wrong. Someone is knocking, from inside the house. From the other side of the cellar door!

Blood On The Moon

This dark, silly, and serious sequel to KEEP THE HEART OF A CHILD and THE QUEEN OF HATS is the third volume in Lori R. Lopez’s Poetic Reflections book series.

The Witchhunt

This tale begins with a modern setting, on the creepy Ninth Floor of a hotel, where an old woman just wishes to be left in peace. But that isn’t possible.

Cornstalker

Trouble with a capital C! The tale begins when a car stops and a body is tossed into the Corn. But this is not just any crop.

Poem: once upon a monster moon

Under the city’s canals, amidst a secret web of conduits Hide many a wonder in the disguise of darkness, Veiled by shadow and a discreet demeanor, a shyness

Darkverse: The Shadow Hours

A rich gathering of poetry with a dismal twilight atmosphere, a brooding nature, an eerie tone . . . DARKVERSE: THE SHADOW HOURS encompasses such pieces written by Lori R. Lopez between 2009 and 2017 . . .

The Language Of Life

THE LANGUAGE OF LIFE is the second volume of verse in the Collected Poetry Of Eath series, featuring works by various invented poets who will seem quite real . . .

The Strange Tail Of Oddzilla: Something For Everyone

This is a story about being Odd. A monster named Oddzilla, to be precise, who dreams of being normal. Even worse, he crawled from a pot of Anything Soup.

Leery Lane

Have you ever kept a secret from even yourself? On one rainless electric night, Frieda Noff will learn the truth about her past, her relationship with her sister, . . .

Tides Of Chaos

A man and woman meet online while the world around them is falling apart. Where are the creatures from that have invaded their planet? What do they want?

Poetic Reflections: Thirteen-O-Clock!

Let’s be serious. (A very stern look.) Ha, fooled ya. Probably scared you a tick or a tock if you’ll admit it. You won’t? Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?

The Dark Mister Snark

There are those individuals we know little about who skulk and creep delightfully across page or screen. In reality, we are taught to avoid them. Sometimes, however, they may surprise us.

Poetic Reflections: Mothers

I was planning to call this “Blank”. I had even typed it up at the top in preparation, but at the last minute I decided to change the theme . . .

Poetic Reflections: Horror Limericks

Time, time, time. I think it’s time. Yes, that’s what it is. The next subject for a poetic reflection. No, no, no. Scratch that. Well, it is high time for a new column.

Odds And Ends

What terrors lurk in the blackest regions of a cellar, amidst dusty cobwebbed shelves, in the glass jars and metal cans of a hopelessly abnormal mind?

Spider Soup

You are never truly alone. While you sleep, nocturnal creatures stir. A couple discovers that things have changed overnight, and they are no longer in control. Their house is full of cobwebs . . .

Poem: Dark

A black hole is etched in my soul Space has no end, no beginning It bounces to the knife-edge of Nevermore And beyond, perhaps too far

Poem: birds of night

The birds of night flap broodful wings Against the pewter clouded mist Though sleep might claim most At this hour of witchcraft and ghoul Their leather-like flails evoke a restless

Poem: Eulogy

There was something in the basement . . . A girl cowered in her bed at night and listened To a mournfully somber wail that echoed Through the floor of her room, imprisoned.

Poem: city of angels

Halfway to the city of angels I may have lost my mind I think it fell out the window of the car When we hit a bump on the freeway