The Return of Pumpkinspice!

pumpkinspice monster ink watercolor art

Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the coffee shop…

I’ve been mulling this one over for a few years now and I’m very happy to finally bring this creepy guy to life while it’s still a viable flavor profile.  I had some trouble settling on a tagline for this imaginary horror movie.

“Revenge is a dish best served spiced!”

“In spice, no one can hear you scream.”

You guys have any suggestions?

My Book’s First Review!

I am pleased as punch to share my book’s first official review! The fine folks over at SciFiandScary.com were kind enough to take the time to check it out.

You can read the review here.

If you’re a fan of science fiction and horror, I recommend that you spend some time there and then subscribe. I’ve discovered quite a few new books that I now must read and movies that I must watch.

It_Came_from_the_Basement Cover
Check out my book on Amazon

 

 

It Came from the Basement!

Forgive me if you’ve seen it already, but I nearly forgot to mention this here on my own blog. I have a new book available! Below is the description from Amazon:

It_Came_from_the_Bas_Cover_for_Kindle

” It Came from the Basement is an illustrated, inky homage to monsters and monster movies accompanied by a collection of thirty-one ridiculous rhymes to make you laugh uncomfortably in the night.

Darkly humorous, M. R. Kessell’s It Came from the Basement lies somewhere between Edward Gorey’s The Gashleycrumb Tinies and Tim Burton’s The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy.

Intended for the monster kid in all of us.”

Available in print and Kindle format on Amazon.com

You may have seen here on my blog that I published a new creepy illustration and rhyme each day of October 2017 in celebration of my love of Halloween. I’ve spent the past few months cleaning up and compiling all of it into this weird little book.

I am self-published and totally independent. Please check it out or pass it along if you or someone you know is a Monster Kid too!

 

Nothing of Value

His empty hands dripped with sweat as he approached the altar on his knees. The creature with a million dead eyes was waiting, its many orifices watering, towering over the small human.

“I know that you crave constant stimulation,” he said, “and you demand new content continuously,” he put his hands up, “but as an artist, I just can’t do it. I have nothing of value to offer today.”

The beast reared back and howled, pulling taut the thousands of cables running from its body. It thrashed. It shrieked. Drops of saliva rained down. The artist shielded his head and vital organs, anticipating a swift yet painful execution.

But the beast turned away, laughing and gurgling, distracted by another’s offering; something loud, flashy, and viral. That would buy the artist some more time.

He crawled into a dark corner of the temple, where, being enveloped by the whirring of giant cooling fans, he could have a moment to just be human and think.