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.

Finding Cthulhu 

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I can’t say for certain what led me to that desolate graveyard, but I believe it all started when I stumbled upon that mysterious box and the accursed relic hidden within.
I had been summoned to settle the estate of my late Uncle Thaddeus. He had toiled in the art history department at Miskatonic University for years until his bizarre and highly publicized death last year, as you may recall.
While navigating the labyrinth of his antiquarian abode, I was drawn to a peculiar wooden box. The squamous, bronze figure housed within gave me a chill and left me gibbering like a madman.
Something compelled me to abscond with it immediately. If I walked for hours or days, I could not tell. But in the end, that strange energy led me into an old graveyard, to a very specific headstone, beneath an imposing, cyclopean obelisk.
There I found myriad offerings left by the hands of other pilgrims. Who, I imagined, burning with the same fever, traveling for days or weeks, suffering from the same delirium as I, whispered the words, “Cthulhu fhtagn.”
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