Friday, August 16, 2013



By Serhiy Krykun

I raise my hands in a desperate attempt to stop the bastard. But my arms fail me, and the Chatterer 
closes in, his saliva getting in my eyes and mouth, his entrails coiling round my torso, his chattering 
almost deafening.

The Lead Cenobite laughs above me.

‘How lovely,’ – he drawls, as if savoring every syllable. – ‘Not to be able to see the eyes of your destiny. You’ve tampered with the things you have no business with, but the consequences are still yours to suffer.’

I realize that my legs are still working.

My knee shoots up. The demon tumbles forward, his wound smearing my face.

In the pale moonlight I see the Lead Cenobite’s pins twinkling; the descriptions of him carousel before 
my eyes.

They were all wrong.

He’s no Devil.

He’s beautiful.

I can’t take my eyes off him.

He speaks to me:

‘Still reluctant to go, I see. Too soon you’ll discover the foolishness of your acts, for the price will surpass your imagination.’

He moves his hand up and glances to my left.

A chain shoots from the darkness of the hall and hooks into the wall, blocking my path.

The wall starts to bleed.

I manage to get to my legs.

The Chatterer recuperates slowly. He seems to know – there is no hurry, I won’t run.

I look into the dark eyes of the Cenobite. He cocks his head and smiles faintly.

Surprised by my own actions, I fall on my knees. I taste salt on my lips – it’s not blood, I’m crying.

‘I’m willing to help. I’m just a cog wheel. I can take you to the people who pulled the lever.’


Serhiy Krykun was born in the ominous year 1984 in the deepest and obscurest part of Ukrainian countryside. He clawed his way up to the city of Kyiv and decided to hold the position. Battered by all kinds of lousy jobs, he's just recently made a "leap of faith" and proclaimed himself an artist. Since then he's been writing writing and illustrating glum scriptures by Clive Barker, Clarke Ashton Smith, Tom Ligotti and  Richard Laymon.

Art by Jason S. Voss

Friday, August 2, 2013


Hell Hunter
By Shaun Avery
I stand before the gates of Hell, a machete in one hand, a camera in the other. I consider my plan. And then I enter.
There are people who’ll pay, you see. Think of those left behind when the Cenobites come. The wives and husbands. Imagine what they’d give for vengeance. That’s where I come in. And I need no box. There are many portals to Hell.
I watch my prey. As I step forward, he turns. Making that dreaded sound. That infernal chattering. I swing the machete. The blade slices through his torso, and it topples to the ground. His legs continue to stand for a second, before they, too, collapse. I smile. And then I take a picture.
My client pays well for proof of revenge. See, people always go for the Lead Cenobite. But he’ll be expecting it. So my plan was: go for a minion. I succeeded. But then late one night, I hear something. ‘Oh no,’ I say. I hear it again. ‘Oh God.’ I step out of my bedroom. He is coming up the stairs towards me. The Chatterer. Minus his legs, now he is crawling. I take a step back. But he stops me. The Lead Cenobite. ‘There are many portals to Hell,’ he says. ‘You did not close them all when you returned.’ Then The Chatterer is upon me, and I realise with horror that he will not need legs to take his vengeance upon me. All he will need is teeth.

Shaun Avery is a crime and horror fiction fan with stories upcoming in many anthologies and magazines. The Chatterer has always been his favourite Cenobite in the Hellraiser movies/comics/books. He makes no apologies for this.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Interested in writing Hellraiser Fan Fiction? Stay tuned for more details this Sunday for Part Two of the creative writing contest! Submissions are now closed for Part one.