Black Petals Issue #109 Autumn, 2024

Mars-News, Views and Commentary

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Mars-News, Views and Commentary
Alone: Fiction by Ed Teja
An Empty Tank: Fiction by Rivka Crowbourne
Anne of the Thousand Years: Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Contract Re-negotiation: Fiction by Martin Taulbut
Dark in Motion: Fiction by Jamey Toner
Hidey-Hole: Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
Men, Like Flies: Fiction by R. J. Melby
Rats Are a Garbage Man's Best Friend: Fiction by Tom Koperwas
The Catalyst: Fiction by David Hagerty
The Farmhouse: Fiction by Fred Leary
The Bridge: Fiction by Jim Wright
Walk in the Park: Fiction by R. L. Schumacher
What It's Like: Fiction by James McIntire
Aired Teeth: Flash Fiction by James Perkins
Cackling Rose: Flash Fiction by Hillary Lyon
He Said He Was Drunk When He Dropped the Candle...Poem by Juleigh Howard-Hobson
Once it Begins: Poem by Juleigh Howard-Hobson
Unexpected Request at the Psychic Faire: Poem by Juleigh Howard-Hobson
The Wolf Man and the Sex Trafficker: Poem by LindaAnn LoSchiavo
NONET Transformed: Poem by LindaAnn LoSchiavo
Wolf Girl Relishes the Wolf Moonrise: Poem by LindaAnn LoSchiavo
Attack of the Twarnock: Poem by Daniel Snethen
Reign of the Dragon: Poem by Daniel Snethen
And Renfield Eats: Poem by Daniel Snethen
Babylon: Poem by Craig Kirchner
Surfing Senators: Poem by Craig Kirchner
Sizar of Xanadu: Poem by Craig Kirchner
In Loving Memory of Our Aunt, Lisa Pizzaro: Poem by Craig Kirchner
Madeline: Poem by Simon MacCulloch
Cobwebbery: Poem by Simon MacCulloch
The Melted Man: Poem by Simon MacCulloch
Blood Tub: Poem by Simon MacCulloch
Jack the Necromancer: Poem by Simon MacCulloch
Dead Man's Body: Poem by Simon MacCulloch
As On Our Sinner's Path We Go: Poem by Vincent Vurchio
Beware the Glory: Poem by Grant Woodside
Scattered Journey: Poem by Grant Woodside
summer gold is only sand: Poem by Grant Woodside
you can't teach the wrong loyalty new tricks: Poem by Renee Kiser
House of Dark Spells: Poem by Sandy DeLuca
In My Pyramid Texts: Poem by Sandy DeLuca
Monsters Then and Now: Poem by Sandy DeLuca
Lord of the Flies: Poem by David Barber
Revenge Notification: Sophia Wiseman-Rose
When Hope Has Gone: Poem by Michael Pendragon
Witches' Moon: Poem by Michael Pendragon

Autumn, 2024—Chris Friend

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Art by Chris Friend © 2024

In much of my research into Halloween folklore one of the most bizarre and truly fascinating has to be the Legend of Shoney. Almost like something conceived by the legendary writer of horror fiction, HP Lovecraft, this is a legend of offerings made on Halloween night to a very ancient deity of the sea. I just loved it and felt it just perfect for this, the spookiest of holidays.

In ancient Scotland it was believed that there is a god who haunts the seas especially off the Isle of Lewis, in the Outer Hebrides. Known as Shoney, this being was thought by some to be connected to the fairy race known as Kelpies. The Kelpie often appear in the form of a water horse, and some hold that the beastie in Loch Ness as being a Kelpie. The name Shoney may be related to the Norse Goddess Sjofn.

In the old days the people of the Isle of Lewis were so devout in their belief in Shoney that in the weeks before Halloween they would carry handfuls of malt into the Church of St. Mulray. The malt would be processed into ale. On the night of All Hallows Eve, a man would travel out into the sea with a cup of ale and offer it to the sea. In ancient Gaelic he would chant "Shoney, I give you this cup of ale hoping that you will be so kind as to give us plenty of sea-ware for enriching our ground the ensuing year." The sea-ware in question was sea-weed which was used as we use manure in our gardens.

Usually the church was alight with candles and after the offering, the    candles were extinguished and the people at this strange Halloween gathering would get drunk and dance to honor the old sea-beast/god known as Shoney.

Neither Lovecraft nor Poe could have come up with anything this groovy. This is one of my favorite Halloween legends. Another great Halloween story is Washington Irving's The German Student. We all know about Irving's wonderful legend of Sleepy Hollow, the great quintessential Halloween tale, but here's a good one as well. I can't say too much or it will give away the story. Honest. Have a really great Halloween.

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Art by Chris Friend © 2024

Since articles on vampires are the easiest for me, I decided to do my usual one on the undead. As most of us know, garlic is a popular herb to ward off vampires and the evil eye in general. The belief seems to have its origins in ancient China, but the Egyptians were the first to notice gar­lic’s healing properties. It is more likely that people wore garlic when dis­interring the grave of a suspected vampire to ward off the nasty stench of decay. In China and Malaysia garlic is rubbed on top of the heads of chil­dren to ward off the attack of vampires, in the Philippines garlic is rubbed on armpits to discourage vampire assault. In Slavic countries where belief is still strong in the undead, garlic is hung in doorways and windows to keep the evil dead out. In Rumania on the Eve of St. Andrew's feast (No­vember 30th) when vampires were believed to be most active, garlic was rubbed on door frames and windowsills. Garlic was even rubbed on cattle to ward off vampire attack even to keep vampires, witches, and fairies from draining the cattle dry. Sometimes the corpse of a suspected vam­pire had garlic stuffed in their mouths. This happens to Dracula's victim Lucy in Bram Stoker's horror classic. The vampire seems to be unable to cross any threshold that is smeared with garlic. I have heard of the prac­tice of burning garlic, used in Cuba by followers of the Afro Cuban faith of Santeria.

One of the more bizarre folklores concerning vampires can attributed to the gypsies. It was said that to steal the sock or stocking from a vampire will trigger the obsessive-compulsive nature of the undead. The vampire will rise and find its sock missing and be forced to search everywhere for it. So driven to find it that the vampire might travel out into running water which is dangerous for the undead. If the undead dares to go out into the running water, such as a river, it will drown. As with most superstitions there are some contradictory beliefs in which vampires may lurk in water, notably lore, on the Greek Island of Santorini suspected vampires were often buried there to keep them from preying on the living. There is even a saying "taking vampires to Santorini". The island seems to have such preservative soil that any suspected vampire buried there will often be very well preserved to the local superstition. Needless to say, the inhabitants of the island are experts on vampire folklore. And so it goes.

Chris Friend, mars_art_13@yahoo.com, of Parkersberg, W.Va , who wrote BP #85’s poem, “Demons Play Flutes”; BP # 84’s poems, “The Sentinel” and “Psalm of Mithra”; the BP #81 poem set, “Angel of the Bereft,” Beauty’s Sleep,” & “Dark Trinity”; the BP #80 poem, “The Temple of Colors”; BP #79 poems, “The Marquis” and “My Bloody Valentine”; the BP #78 poem, “The Old Yule Goat”; BP #77’s 4-poem set: “At 50,” “Owls,” “Vintage Halloween,” & “Xmas in the Doll Asylum”; BP #76’s 4-poem set: “Hag Fairy Communion,” “Love’s Sepulcher,” “Night Wanderer,” & “St. Andrew’s Feast”; 2 poems for BP #75, “Angel of the Pagan Dead” and “Churchyard Watcher”; BP #72’s 2-poem set, “Ed Gein” & “Sour Puss”; and the 2008 poem “All Hallows’ Eve”, writes and illustrates our “MARS News” column. He did a cover for Black Petals back in 2000 for the fall issue, and has been around ever since. BP keeps up two websites for him and prints his column in the issue quarterly. Chris has a gallery at http://chris.michaelherring.net/ and was featured artist in Kurt Newton’s Ultimate PerVersities (Naked Snake) [Jan. 2011].

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