Otto Greiner (1869–1916), Die Feilbietung (The Sale), 1898. Lithograph, 25 × 20 cm. Public domain.The devil as auctioneer, mankind as eager bidder - Greiner’s vision of damnation is less warning than mirror, a Halloween reminder that we often sell ourselves far too cheaply. Night and day belong together. One can’t savour dawn without knowing what … Continue reading Night and Day: The Devil’s Auction and the Radiant Company
Tag: horror
A Nightmare Before Christmas: The Gospel According to the Pumpkin King
Following on from yesterday’s reflection on Corpse Bride, I found myself still wandering through Tim Burton’s haunted imagination — that candlelit corridor where love, death, and longing share the same heartbeat. If Corpse Bride was his requiem for romance, A Nightmare Before Christmas is his hymn to the restless artist — the skeleton who, having … Continue reading A Nightmare Before Christmas: The Gospel According to the Pumpkin King
Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus
Frankenstein bites, and it gnaws politely. It sinks its teeth into your conscience while pretending to nibble at your imagination — a genteel vampire in paper form. It’s a novel born of storms, both meteorological and moral: thunder crashing over Lake Geneva and lightning striking through the skull of Western hubris. Mary Shelley, barely out … Continue reading Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus
The Devils of Loudun: Possession in the Age of Reasonable Madness
There are two kinds of devilry in this world: the kind that froths and foams in the convent, and the kind that wears a signet ring and drafts policy. Huxley’s The Devils of Loudun is about both — a tale where hysteria kneels before power and calls it holy. I’ve long thought that if Lucifer … Continue reading The Devils of Loudun: Possession in the Age of Reasonable Madness
The Slag Heap of Forgetfulness
In memory of the children of Aberfan, 21st October 1966 Before the Bell Rang There are mornings that never end, only echo. Aberfan was one of them. The rain had fallen through the night — the kind of Welsh rain that softens the hills but sharpens the nerves. By half past nine, the children of … Continue reading The Slag Heap of Forgetfulness
Wording 