Black Petals Issue #91, Spring, 2020

New Terror
Home
BP Artists and Illustrators
Mars-News, Views and Commentary
A Hole in the Somewhere-Fiction by Richard Brown
Everything Echoes-Fiction by Todd M. Guerra
Exit to Dove's Tail-Fiction by Ken Goldman
I Dream of Fire-Fiction by Matthew Penwell
Living Doll-Fiction by Carl Hughes
Angelika's Tough Decision-Fiction by Roy Dorman
The Cat-Fiction by Chris Alleyne
The Demon-Fiction by Misty Page
The Run-Fiction by Thomas Runge D'Amore
We Are the Monsters We Seek-Fiction by Karen Heslop
Brother of Mine-Flash Fiction by D. C. Plump
New Terror-Flash Fiction by Denis Alvarez Betancourt
The Flapping Thing-Flash Fiction by Robert Masterson
The Clown Loved Cherry Lipstick-Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
Ganymede-Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
Space Probe RH 120-Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
The Buffoon-Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
Just Another Day in My House-Poem by Tom Davidson
Blue Bell Hill Beast-Poem by Richard Stevenson
Plum Island-Poem by Richard Stevenson
The Thing in the Woods-Poem by Loris John Fazio

91_bp_theraven_bingamon.jpg
Art by Avalon Bingamon © 2020

New Terror

By Denis Álvarez Betancourt

Translated by Toshiya Kamei

Once upon a midnight dreary...

Edgar Allan Poe

He rose to power in the first vampiric republic in the world, which came into being in Cruel, the city of terror. The final battle was fought street by street. Stakes and fire. Garlic and knives couldn’t overcome the forces of poisoned blood and sharp fangs. Axes became chipped from severing so many heads from bony bodies. At the end, on Morgue Street, a flock of crows was perched on the large bust of Poe. This one was right on the lintel of a door, an entrance to the immense mass of Gothic granite. They squawked, “Leonora!” And all the attackers dyed their faces a scarlet red symbol of death. The disease couldn’t stop them. Guided by myriads of one-eyed cats, they dug out from the cold, damp walls entombed wives who, in the new darkness, joined as reinforcements to hordes of the undead, definitely tilting the scales in their favor. The flock fled to the Night’s Plutonian shore. Then the ghosts said, “Nevermore.”





Denis Álvarez Betancourt was born in 1968 in Havana, where he currently works as a researcher at the Centro de Ingeniería Genética y Biotecnología. He is co-author, with his sister Yadira, of Historias de Vitira (2015).