Warren Rome

Warren Rome

Author of the Macabre

The dark rumbling began and I turned to view the creator of the din...

It was a tepid, dark evening, last night.  The rain forever threatening, teased the landscape into a submissive merciful mess of colour.  The crescendo of sound building from over yonder, that would entice one to venture out, only to recoil in fear once one had viewed the repulsive persuasion of the creators of the din, cascaded over and into my solitary dwelling and reminded me of my youthful exuberance and wonderment at the merry bartenders, over indulgent patrons, and nervous bar maids, as they provided the beverages.


It was only as I closed the door and settled into my cosy settee that I heard another noise.  A foreign invader in my own lodgings.  My partner, Holly, was not present this night.  My loyal and submissive hound was seated beside me and observed my every move with his sorrowful, chocolate-brown eyes.  His perplexed look confirmed that my ears were not deceiving me.  Yet again - that unearthly sound.  Like a gargling drunk combined with the fiery wrath of a cellar furnace, the noise refused to abate.  The doors and windows were locked.  My dog and I were alone.  This noise polluted the atmosphere with its guttural, deep moans.  Finally, Morrison, my greyhound and trusty companion, span around to face this alien force.  His rubbery lips lifted to reveal dozens of snarling white teeth.  The direction of his anger?  It lay very close to us both.  Too close in-fact.  His head and craning neck were facing the rumbling sound head on.  It was his stomach and the result of an old sausage he had snaffled whilst his owners devoured an Indian meal.




Morrison - my faithful friend


Stay Scared




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