My name is MICHAEL F. HOUSEL, author of THE HYDE SEED, THE PERSONA #1 & #2; and MARK JUSTICE'S THE DEAD SHERIFF #4: PURITY. My short fiction is featured in RAVENWOOD, STEPSON OF MYSTERY #4 & #5; THE PURPLE SCAR #4; and THE PHANTOM DETECTIVE #2. My additional works can be found in Eighth Tower's DARK FICTION series and Main Enterprises' WHATEVER!; PULP FAN; MAKE MINE MONSTERS; SCI-FI SHALL NOT DIE; THE SCREENING ROOM; *PPFSZT!; and TALES FROM GREEK MYTHOLOGY.
Friday, June 7, 2019
ADARKAH IANQU'S LIVE IN TOKYO: A TRIP INTO DARK, ASIAN ANNALS
Adarkah Ianqu's "live in Tokyo" is a dissident discovery, which found its way into my message box. Its sounds are foreboding, forbidding and demanding, but more so, out of this world, even if relegated to terrestrial Tokyo...
Ianqu begins your four-part journey by planting a ticket in your hand. Your grasp it like a satanic treasure, its texture creasing, crumbling as you contemplate its cost to your soul. After all, it's into the most sequestered annals of this mystical metropolis that you'll enter. As a foreigner, a passing invader, are you worthy of the trek?
You fortify your courage...press on, cutting through the lantern-strung streets, the muggy alleys and corridors, until the object of your desire invades your senses. Yes...yes--you sees it! It's soft yet hard, bright yet pale...its eyes gleaming like those of a lethal Geisha. Through the entity's "inanimate" stance, a telepathic challenge comes. Your libido wants to accept. Do you dare?
You creep toward this delicious deity, hungry for its delights. You reach out with bashful brashness and stroke its raven hair. It flinches, its red lips curling. Oh, no! Its sharp nails have pierced your skin. Pain overwhelms you. You begin to beg, but can only wince as the gaudy goddess crushes your hand. You're a pawn, a puppet, a plaything to the petulant "prophesies" that lured you.
The sadistic shrew forces you to your knees, the air in your lungs "ending" as you become a splash, a splotch, a puddle of meaningless blood...your virility, your identity now a mere speck in the dark, dreamless tapestry: dead but somehow still "live in Tokyo"...
After listening to Ianqu's weird, whispery content, I woke in a fiery sweat. What had I experienced? Could I ever bring myself to listen again, to resume that masochistic spectrum of impetuous life and dreary death? I hesitated, but then thought of those eyes, those lips and cried--Yes, oh yes!!!
If you're bold enough, your ticket to Ianqu's Tokyo awaits at...
https://adarcahianku.bandcamp.com/album/live-in-tokyo?fbclid=IwAR0_2siX2oiT_D44zAJiyDG_6suoaEFad1qMcyUOPgtzuqIVEgpuaDFd2l0.
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