In this horror short film a young man named Daniel receives a cursed present from his strange grandmother.

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The sagging middle aged bare breasts in front of Vincent almost made him nauseous. “Why do women subject themselves to such awful acts?” he thought and almost spoke aloud as the woman continued on her haphazard lap dance.

He unwillingly let the gaunt looking woman go on with her act of degradation as he let his mind slip into the previous night, a time when he found far more pleasure.

Vincent had set his sights on a striking young girl. Her long dark hair hung almost to her far well too developed bottom.
The act of pedophilia really had a sickening feeling on the ancient man, but children were the only way to secure that he was about to feed on a virgin. And with all the work ahead of him he knew he had to keep his strength up.

The girl’s school was in a very prosperous side of town, the sort of place that Vincent despised. He had actually found his way in front of the school by accident. Hotels became boring very quickly and he knew that he absolutely could not feed on the children who were staying there with their parents. The possibility of arousing suspicion was not worth the ease of the capture.

Out for an evening stroll, his favorite part of the day, he came to a formal looking building, one with fantastic marble pillars on the veranda. There she sat, apparently waiting on her late parents. She looked so cheerless and miserable that even Vincent’s hardened soul actually felt a flutter of pain for the beautiful adolescent.

“Please, dear child, tell me where your parents are.”

“I do not know sir.” she looked up with eyes as wide as gemstones, and just as fantastically colorful.

The immortal gazed into her truest soul and saw her purity. “Perfect” he thought with a glimmer of glee. “This is far too easy sometimes.”
“My little pet.” He cooed into her soft youthful ears. “Come with me, I will take you to my hotel room where I will give you a yummy afternoon treat. Then you may phone your parents and I will take you home to your loving mother and father.” The gleam off his petrifying eyes was shadowed only by the glint off his forbidding looking fangs.

The girl fought against the vampire’s powerful mind for as long as she possibly could, but like all, she soon fell.

Vincent’s ears perked when a new awful sounding eighties rock song came on the radio, and he was immediately brought back to his unpleasant reality.

“Alright sugar.” The expression was not one used for endearment, just purely habitual. As the varicose veins climbed off him he made a sound that could have easily been confused as one of pleasure.

The gravel voice came again. “I knew you would like that.”

Vincent, trying to keep a smile on his face reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty. “There you go, all yours.” He would gladly have paid ten times that amount to avoid the stench of the awful stripper’s breath which consisted of harsh whiskey and a hint of marijuana.
His intention upon entering the disease infested strip club was to find a place of solitude to do some heavy drinking. He had no idea how so many people could inhabit such a filthy environment.

“Fucking humans, always so ready to let themselves turn into trash.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

The words came from a dark corner just to his left and turned to velvet as the vampire fought to regain his composure.
Vincent breathed the words, “I’m sorry, sometimes I have no internal monologue.”

A laugh escaped the ruby lips of the enchanting woman that had began her brief walk to sit next to Vincent. “It’s a problem that I feel I can relate to,” she spoke as she sat, crossing her legs leisurely so as to capture the Vampire’s lingering gaze.

The immortal cocked his head to the side and let his warmest smile come through. “Please, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course, you may. But I’m afraid that you must buy me a drink first.” She teased.

The vampire had to smile even wider as he waved over the almost decrepit woman taking drink orders, “Vodka on the rocks please, and whatever the lady is having.”

“Manhattan, also on the rocks” the mysterious woman proudly proclaimed.

Vincent was almost awestruck, “A woman who knows her drinks, impressive. As for that question I wanted to ask.”

The single dimple on the left cheek of the obscure woman left as her smile did the same. “Please, go right ahead.”

The air had turned more serious as Vincent stared into the deep blue eyes across from him. “How long have you been following me?”
The woman’s back arched and the hair at the nape of her neck stood out. She held her tongue until the waitress was done setting their drinks down and the handsome man across from her had paid.

She took a sip of her stiff drink, desperate to try and lubricate her raw throat. She instead said nothing, not able to sum the courage to speak again to the creature she had so come to admire.

Vincent was enjoying this, he knew the answer to the question, he just wanted to know how truthful she was. After almost two full long minutes of silence between the two, the vampire decided to break it.

“Three weeks. That’s how long you have been following me, since my killing of the Father in New York. I would appreciate it if you would at least tell me your name.”

The woman began to relax, not sure if she had a choice in the matter, she resigned herself to just accepting her fate. She knew death was a real possibility when she began to follow the vampire several weeks earlier, but so was immortality.

“My name is Claire Gabbard, I really should apologize for not introducing myself sooner.

His eyes stoic and unchanging, Vincent bore deep into her soul. “Yes, you should have.”

Feeling like he had given her enough torture for the moment he took out one of his cigarettes and lit it. The smoke from the cherry red end trailed up and around his deep set eyes. Vincent picked up his drink and held it up in front Claire, “Let us toast.”

Claire picked up her glass, she did her best to keep her hands from shaking but it was of little use.

“To new found friends.”

With that Vincent’s drink was gone in an instant, Claire wished she could drink that fast.

The night seemed to press on around them as the patrons of the sleazy strip club began to file out. Claire found conversation with the devil across from her to be quite easy, she owed the booze for that one. He didn’t really talk about himself but instead insisted on knowing everything he could about her.

Within the first hour Claire actually found herself at ease and even smiling despite the cruelty she knew the man to possess.

“I think I have had my fill of alcohol and this seedy environment. Please, let’s adjourn to my room for the evening.”

Claire knew that she had no choice in the matter and resigned herself to the idea of following the vampire to his hotel.

“I would very much enjoy that” Claire spoke with a calm elegance tinged with fright.

The cab ride lasted barely ten minutes, but to Claire it felt like an eternity. She almost giggled when the thought of eternity came to mind. A ten minute cab ride to her new friend was but a grain of salt in the sea of his life. She wondered where he came from, what he had seen, even how old he was.

The taxi came to an abrupt halt outside the nicest hotel Claire had ever seen.

“Shall we go?” Vincent held his hand out to Claire as she exited into the cold night.

Once up into the majestic room on the top floor Claire thought that if she died, this might not be the worst environment to do so.
Vincent came up from behind as she stared out of the window. Without words he took her jacket off and threw it onto the back of a chair where it landed so perfectly.

His hand came up from around the back of her neck to her forehead where he brushed her bangs away from her eyes.
Claire was powerless to stop him, even if she wanted to. The lights were dim, and even though Claire had a tough time of seeing she knew that her future lover did not. Both hands were now under her arms. And as he kissed her neck so softly he simultaneously began to reach for the buttons on her silk blouse. One by one they were loosened to reveal her red lace bra.

As one of Vincent’s long strong hands found its way to her right breast, the other wound it’s way up her pencil skirt and pulled the matching panties away from her.

Within the time it took Claire to blink all her under garments were around her ankles. In the next blink she was on her back on the down comforter. She felt herself quiver as Vincent gently lay on top of her. She felt the familiar sensation of penetration as the vampire began to lick her neck.

After just a few brief moments she felt herself begin to climax. Her breath was cut short as she felt the flesh around her neck punctured. True ecstasy flowed forth as she began to sink helplessly into darkness.

“A.D” is a beautifully done zombie animation  written by Haylar Garcia, and directed by Ben Hibon. As of now, they are still looking to turn it into a full feature zombie animated film. Forums and horror websites across the Internet are spreading the word about this trailer. Hopefully it will be picked up and make it to the big screen. Show your support by showing others this beautiful piece of work.

The Calabrese brothers have transformed. In their last album, The Traveling Vampire Show, they possessed the identity of every vampiric horror available and let the album bleed out of its sleeve. The newest iteration transmorphs the vampires as agents of death into the black monster of sin and destruction himself.

Calabrese gets all confusion out of the way in the first track of the album, appropriately titled “They Call Us Death”, labeling the demonic three as a “pack of wolves” “beyond the veil of days”. With this in mind, we are put on the slaughter line through the myriad of death-centric beliefs and themes that are pervasive in the album, all steeped in carnage and often despair. Calabrese is the narrator winking at its victims just before the death knell. They know why death has come and are savoring every moment left.

The romantic motif of the last album is maintained but perverted by the bitter cloak of death’s impatience, evidenced best in “Black Anthema”. Death “knows you secrets” and “knows your weakness” all the while reminding you that “your world is burning”. Once you know there is no hope, it opens you up to try to harness the wailing vocals or street-cracking drum hits.

Which leads us to the sound of the album: everything here was more or less present on the previous album but the quality and intensity has been increased ten-fold. The vocal work is crawling with sepulchral wails and whoa-s; and while the theme has changed from vampires to death, the guitar and bass are lively and livid, careening through the 12 mostly-under-three-minute tracks. One track in particular, “Blood of the Wolf”, stands out because of its contrast to the rest of the album in terms of grit. The breakneck-paced song is about a beast of carnage incarnate in which graveled vocals carry the rage and ferocity of the lupo. It quickens your heart and pulls your vocal chords out, leaving you in the dirt. “Deep in the Red” is another track that courses into your brain with its driving bass and drum line. The images of blood, hate, and poison are vivid as you are “crippled inside” as “we fall apart”.

Other themes that the album holds include occult summonings as in “Summon the Beyond” or “Violet Hellfire”, the Earth as infinite and life as finite as in “Loveless God” and the afore mentioned “Blood of the Wolf”, as well as death as the only real definition of life as in “Within the Abyss” and “Endless Night”. Now, it might look like I’m reading too much into what might just be a deadly rockin’ good time, but I don’t think Calabrese has done anything by accident here, nor do I think that this album has to go beyond killin’ shit and rocking if you don’t want it to. I do think that this is straight courtroom evidence that Calabrese is an unstoppable entity in any form, be it death or vampires, and remains the world’s greatest HORROR rock band.

Article by Christopher Friedrich

A lot of people tend to give too much credit to their zombies, or just simply not enough. There are too many zombie stories and films that leave their characters unexplained. After all, when it comes to zombie stories and films, the main character isn’t the last action hero or the half naked chick that manages to escape the clutches of the undead; the main character is the zombie.

Now normally I do not like calling zombies, zombies. I feel like the term has been beaten into the ground to the point where it has finally reached the level of pirates and ninjas. I like to call them the undead, walking dead, the dead, corpses, whatever. By the way, if you like pirates, ninjas, green zombies, and werewolves you might want to stop reading and leave the site before you begin crying in pain because no such content exists here, sorry.

Anyway… Everybody likes their zombies a certain way and everybody has a different interpretation on how they should look or move. Are they green or gray? Are they the fast ones or the slow ones? Do they eat brains or all living tissue? It all really depends on a person’s undead preferences. A lot of people like the funny zombies that are greenish, only eat brains, and manage to magically express the fact that they want to eat them.

Let’s be realistic for a minute or two. When the zombie apocalypse happens, and believe me people, it will, what are they really going to be like? Well honestly, they will probably not really be dead. Wait! Don’t stop reading just yet! I know that is not what you wanted to hear but let’s face it, how can a dead corpse really walk around? When the outbreak really happens, they will most likely just be humans with rabies. They will probably be fully functional, talking, breathing, conspiring zombies, hell bent on killing us all no matter how.

But where is the fun in that? The walking dead are so much cooler than the walking or running living. That is why when I write about zombies, I like to keep some realism in the mix along with the undead aspect. My zombies are the completely dead and reanimated all flesh eaters. They look like any normal dead corpse would. Pale, grayish, pasty, and depending on what happened to them at the time of death: bleeding, broken, limbless, etc.

How long ago the zombie first died plays a large role in how it functions. If a zombie has been around for a while it would have been decaying for a while as well. What keeps it going is the brain and as the brain rots away it loses the function that those pieces of the brain control. So just before a zombie’s “second death,” as I call it, the zombie can barely walk or do anything, but it will keep after the living’s flesh until it can no longer function. If the zombie is fresh and has not lost any limbs or has not experienced extensive brain damage it will be able to move fairly well. Obviously when the host dies and reanimates, some brain cell loss would have occurred, so they are by no means fast or coordinated. Because of extensive brain damage during first death and reanimation, they cannot learn. They simply retain basic instincts and can possibly get used to certain things out of habit.

So how did it all begin? Was it nuclear? Perhaps it was stem cell research? Or did some dumb ass military truck with only a dinky chain holding back barrels of the flesh-eating apocalypse take a turn too hard by a creek? The answer is all of them. Nuclear stuff really isn’t to be messed with because it mutates things. Stem cell research really isn’t to be fiddled with because if crazy miracle cures can be had, something horrible like zombies will eventually balance out the equation. And finally yes, there are so many idiots in the world; one of them is bound to end up in a truck full of canned zombies.

The anatomy of a zombie is not rocket science. They can be whatever you want them to be. However, they should not be green and mumble braaaiiinnsss while they walk around with their arms out like mummies. My zombies won’t be anyway, and that is precisely why this is called The “Anatomy of My Zombie”. If you don’t like it, go back to playing that terrible video game, “Stubbs The Zombie” and fighting over which “Twilight” team people should be on.

The king of the walking dead turned 70 on Thursday, February 4th. Undead Fiction would like to take a moment to say, happy birthday George! If it were not for you, we all  would not be the die hard zombie fans that we are today.