Tags » Southern Gothic

Earth - Hex; or Printing in the Infernal Method

Sun bleached stones lie about the earth like bones licked clean by the scouring wind. The immeasurable movement of the day into night is the pace here, where the brutish life of man is manifest in the landscape – the crawl of the cloud’s shadow across the earth, the cold howl of the scavengers behind the mountains, the land bare and empty. 203 more words


The Southern Gothic Strikes Back

Southern Gothic is back and better than ever. The aesthetic is coming back into style on a national scope. The movement has begun to permeate all different forms of popular art and media. 767 more words


The Summer of '98 Part Six

Oscar woke up and Celine was gone, along with his Explorer. He called her name and opened the bathroom door when he got no response. He really wished he hadn’t destroyed the girl’s cell phone, and unloaded a string of curses at the empty motel room. 2,852 more words


The Summer of '98 Part Five

Leroy woke with a rotten hangover, and the first face he saw was that of Victor, looking like something out of a nightmare. Weren’t the man’s fault, of course — no one gets to pick their own genes — but it was still something Leroy could have done without. 1,472 more words


The Esquire Tavern

With its dark wood, peeling wallpaper, Edison light bulbs and wild taxidermy, the Esquire Tavern in San Antonio feels like it’s out of another time. Part prohibition-era coffee shop, part old saloon, you can spend hours drinking Moscow Mules and conspiring in whispers by the light of its flickering lanterns. 26 more words


Servants of the Storm: A Review

A tempest brews in Savannah…

Servants of the Storm is the new young adult novel from authoress Delilah S. Dawson. Though it’s classified as YA, it’s a creepy, Southern gothic tale that will delight even the non-young adults among us. 146 more words


Southern Gothic

Southern Gothic is there in ghost towns, abandoned Plantations, the dark corners of ranch houses, rivers with names like ‘Woman Hollering Creek’, Spanish Moss, back porches at night, the shaded faces beneath hat brims, the sound of cicadas, mansions in the middle of the desert, oil wells, the smell of dust and rust and blood. 62 more words