An Open Letter from SGC: Be Smart One of the interesting things about the Internet is that anyone can be anything. Sometimes, it is done innocently. Sometimes, not so much. Knowledge is good but understanding the knowledge you have inquired about is even better. It is important to understand that I am a skeptic. I …
Photo Credit: Yuichi Kageyama on Unsplash by Joseph B. St. John In the space of one morning, I saw the tiny doves fly into the sunrise. One after another, they disappeared into the brightly colored coat of the sky. Dew laid like mist on the earth’s green carpet. And the moisture made a pearl cover in the …
by Mark Poe The distant glow of flood lights gave a point to follow through the thin path amongst the underbrush of the swampy surroundings. The chorus of the creatures of the night was joined by the crackling speakers blaring a rendition of Church in the Wildwood. As the low call to “come, come, come, …
Growing up in the late 1960’s and 70’s, superhero comic books were a big part of my life. It was a weekly pleasure to pick up my preferred titles: Batman, Spiderman, the Fantastic Four and my personal favorite, Captain America. I loved all the superheroes, but Marvel Comics were my first choice. As a matter …
Pilgrimage is an event held in many towns in the Deep South to celebrate the antebellum period of cavalier manners, graceful elegance, and spacious homes. It is a time for the owners of these homes to show them to the public, and romantics from Maine to Michigan come down to experience the recreated life of …
Photo by Max Kleinen from Unspalsh Unfortunately, there can be no doubt that man is, on the whole, less good than he imagines himself or wants to be. Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. If inferiority is conscious, one always has a chance to correct it. – …
by Ron Parlato My name is Earl Hutchins and I own the Hutchins Run B&B in Linings, South Carolina. It’s about as much of a bed and breakfast as Hadley’s Rest, a sorry piece of lumber that’s only good for pussy and sour coffee. There’s not much reason to stay at my B&B, either, unless …
Everyone knew it as the Deep Hole. It was a spot on the edge of a sandbar in the St. Francis River that had washed out over time. The water was still and deep. The bottom was soft and sandy. Cool water, with a glassy surface like a window, would reveal a dark, green-tinted world …
Continuing our tradition of supporting Independent music artists, SGC is proud to support Violent Vickie’s latest track. Over the past several years, SGC has made a commitment to independent artists. The number of outstanding performers that exist outside the mainstream is staggering and too large to ignore. Writers, musicians, and surrealist painters have been locked …
by Ron Parlato My name is Elizabeth Bolen and I own the Owens Mill B&B in Natchitoches, Louisiana. My guests come here for the Christmas Festival of Lights, an event a lot like Mardi Gras, with krewes, floats, and music. They also come for marriages and anniversaries or to study the history of the region …
by Mark Poe The emotions swirled in his head, as the tires thumped on Highway 18 leading Tommy home again. It was the same path he had driven many times, but never before for this purpose. His grandfather had visited Ms. Eudora many times and stories had been told to him by his father about …
Long before I arrived in Columbus, MS, over 10 years ago, I had heard of Tennessee Williams. The Glass Menagerie was one of the plays I read in freshman Literature class in college. I enjoyed the play and my professor was an obvious Tennessee Williams fan. I found the play to be exciting, but I …
by Ron Parlato Amanda Leigh, like most little girls, liked playing with Barbie dolls. She liked to dress them, comb their hair, and strut them around in their high heels. “Barbie sends the wrong message”, said a feminist critic. “She symbolizes everything that is wrong with gender roles today.” Amanda Leigh turned out fine. She …
by Mark Poe The first time I saw the old man he was sitting in a ragged armchair on a drooping front porch that matched his persona. Weather-beaten and worn down by time, the boards of the floor and the overhang was gray, twisted and split. To his left side was a small table that …
Have you missed reading exciting, well-written stories with a Southern Gothic theme? Looking to enjoy some stimulating artwork, photos, and videos? Well, hopefully your wait will soon be over! After numerous requests from loyal readers and our talented contributors, we are once again accepting submissions. You can submit stories to sgcinquiries@gmail.com. Stories must be submitted …
William Crute draws upon a background ranging from the FBI to the Special Forces, from classroom English teacher to artist and gallery owner. His new novel, Rainbow Isle, joins three previous novels — Morgan Makes Money, The Greenhouse Near Loveville, and Nineteen and Mia. All four stories are fast-paced and entertaining. The author is …
The “Green House Near Loveville” Is An Exciting Read Read More »
A Dream Within a Dream – Edgar Allen Poe Joe MacGown creates a world that balances the real with the fantastical. His artwork streams a new consciousness that is neither locked into the surrealism of Salvador Dali nor the spiritual awakenings of William Blake’s Romantic age. It stands alone, a world created by a …
Anger, envy gluttony, greed, lust, sloth, and vanity – How we love you all! How we love the sweet taste of vengeance inside your soft soul reign! Each one gives a reason for the reasons that we love – being bad with all that’s good. A mixture in our mourning, before our daily dose of …
By Joseph B. St. John I sat alone waiting for the fright of night to begin, alone like always in the summer’s warm charm. I stared over the concrete barricades of my fortress. Putting my wildness aside for a short moment, I let the breath fill my tired lungs. Throughout the night, I stood plastered …
by Mark Poe I have a lawn chair named Matthew. Matthew is as much a part of my family as the rest of this farm. Just as every pecan tree or chicken coop or storage shed that sits on it. He’s really nothing special to look at. He’s weather-beaten and life-battled. Rust holds the spots …
by Mark Poe The next morning, the addiction tree had grown to almost six feet tall and the buds were already beginning to show signs of opening. I took the chainsaw and broke the morning silence with the grinding of the chain. Two cuts and I had a two-foot section of the trunk that Cherokee …
by Mark Poe His name was Hezekiah Adams. Ol’ Hez. That was the moniker he would answer to. He was a hard man. A man of the woods and river. Some had referred to him once as a river rat. Only once to his face, mind you. The gentleman that called out to him had …
by Mark Poe The cold air of the pre-dawn November morning burned the throat as the hum of the outboard motor was lulling me back into any outdoorsman’s dreamland. The boat ride down Maddox Bay to the dropping-off spot of the deer hunters of the Poe family was cold but quick. The morning discussion covered …
by Mat McCarter The sky looked like it might snow but just didn’t give a shit. Everything seemed eternally dreary and dismal – damned, even. The weather was insolent and bitchy, like it was on its winter rag. The streets were bare and nothing stirred on this cold winter afternoon, except for the frigid wind …
by Mark Poe My hands cradled my head as I stared at the black starlit night, searching for answers to questions I was terrified to ask. I had escaped the guilty barrage of vulgar insults into the rural quietness of my yard. The small towns were pinpointed by the lights within glow distance of my …
by Steven Anthony George 450 lbs. Why did God make the insects change themselves from one form to another? Why do they begin as a worm, crawling and eating and crawling and eating, and after, it goes to sleep for a little while and wakes up as something different ─ sometimes something beautiful, like when …
by Steven Anthony George “Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” At ten. 140 lbs. Once, at a time when I was smaller, I explored an enchanted kingdom in the few acres of woodland behind our house, where the sunlight dripping down through the leaves …
by Trista Hurley-Waxali My field isn’t improving, even after the fancy fertilizer and the engineered-to-spray irrigation. My books show this week to be the lowest crop yield, which means I have to do something quick before I have to worry. I have to find a solution that gives me a field of profit, rather than …
by Emily Gaither (Edtior’s Note: This is Part Three of this short story, which we are publihing in serial form. You can find Part One at southerngothiccreations.com/unwanted-wishes-part-one and Part Two at southerngothiccreations.com/unwanted-wishes-part-two.) Zelda took a slightly meaningful breath and glanced at Meredith – any hint of an accent, gone. “What do you want, little girl? …
by Emily Gaither Editor’s Note: This is part two in a series. Part one may be found at http://southerngothiccreations.com/unwanted-wishes-part-one/. It was almost like meeting a rock star or celebrity that you’ve built up in your mind, only this one was probably simultaneously more and less ostentatious. She was shorter than Meredith had envisioned, for one …
by Emily Gaither Meredith awoke suddenly and realized how hot it was. It was sticky, and the Mississippi air was thick. It sounded like the air conditioner was still running, but her slick skin and wet hair told a different story. She also remembered, as she came out of her sleepy fog, that it was …
by Robert Feldman two alleycats sprang from their overhanging courtyard perch, startling the broken glass predawn midst, interrupting the occasional moans from a half-open 4th floor window, astonishing the quietude, but not my tell-tale heart busy pounding loudly enough to signal the dead for it was that distinct odor emanating from a wooden cellar …
by Paddy Wight “What do we have here?” I’d had this job for going on three years. Not easy, always being self-employed, but it was better than either alternative – either fielding a-thousand-and-one questions about past employers and references, la, la, la, or being out on the street. So, the local cops were short a …
by Dee Burton For all of history, Grandma’s been saying that when her ship comes in or when I turn twelve – whichever comes first – she’ll get me a horse. This summer, first thing when I got to the farm, I reminded her: “One more year to go,” I said. “When my ship comes …
We hope that you will enjoy the latest work by Thomas Reynolds, a poem entitled “Do Not.” Do not be afraid of the dark Even if it rains, And you have no one to hold Or anyone to hold on to Do not be afraid of the dark Do not embrace the sorrow …
By Emily Gaither The drink had stopped helping, and I felt dizzy, not from the wine, But from feeling small and insignificant. I felt like wives Whose husbands leave them for younger women must feel. Places like that make me feel uneasy, like someone prone to seasickness. The only thing I could think to say, …
By Thomas Reynolds What does my little eye spy? The flicker of the Serpent’s tongue? Mosquitoes fluttering near the lake? A Hum? A Buzz? It is the sizzle of the night Tales as old as Antiquity Hush little baby don’t you cry By why would you want a mocking bird? Peace on earth is …
By Adele Elliott The office of Dr. Otis Anderson, DDS, was a calm oasis separate from the world. A huge tank, a replicated tropical reef, hugged one of the muted pastel walls. Crayon-colored fish with spiky fins glided in and out of sand castles and skirted around the bubbles that floated from the tiny …
by Emily Gaither Sarah woke up suddenly, jolted out of a good dream, or maybe just a sleepy memory. She pulled on her robe and went into the kitchen to start the coffeepot. She knew she was smiling, but couldn’t seem to shake it as she doled out the coffee and the water. Surprisingly, her …
By Joseph B. St. John Lost without a trace Wandering the night time alone The spell is never broken and the sunshine never glows Waiting so patiently to devour what belongs to her She enters neither sleep nor consciousness She is holding the dark to find her art of loss Hush Little Baby…don’t you cry… …
