Welcome to the Gallery

This year, we invite you to share your favorite bad bad things. Please feel free to submit your entries to me by sending them to my email account or by sending them via Facebook message. Include a title, and your name (if you would like credit) and any explanation or text that you would like to accompany the piece. I will upload the entries to the gallery page. The Gallery accepts artwork (jpg, png, gif), photography, literature (prose or poetry), video, and music. Please remember that this is a site is open to all ages to view. Entries will be accepted starting October 15, 2012

Spookified - Taylor Maw

Pop yer Top - Nasan Hardcastle

Tastes Like Chicken - Brian K.Smith

7 Devils - Jeff Davis

Lucifer

Amon

Belphegor 

Mammon

Asmodeus

                       

Leviathan

Beelzebub

Hell on Earth - lyn.barnes

It is a dark and stormy night somewhere, not here. It should be dark, but the sun is shining, I can hear other kids playing on the playground equipment outside the open window. I want to be out there, with them, playing. But I am here, that creeping feeling sliding through my belly, my mouth dry, my mind empty of everything but fear. 

I stand before the large, ornate desk, frozen. I can barely breathe, can't feel my hands, my feet. Next it will be my legs and my arms. I will them to disappear quickly, will all of me to disappear quickly. Not quickly enough. 

"Take off your dress." there is an eldritch tone to his voice, part conspirtorial, part dictorial, all impatience and titillization; not to be ignored, though I would, if I weren't so afraid. 

My hands fumble with the buttons down the front of my dress; they are invisible and hard to use. The dress slips off my invisible shoulders and arms, falling around my invisible feet. I am gone, all of me, but the parts he will now touch, fondle, prod. I listen to the children outside the window, think I can hear Juliette ask where I am. 

I want to tell my mother what is happening. I started to, reminding her of the stories about that girl a few years older than me, at my school a few years ago. She yelled at me, told me to stop bringing it up, calls that family, that girl a blasphemer, tells me I am blasphemous. I don't say what's being done. What has been done. 

I know it is over when I feel the wetness between my legs, smell the bitter acrid odor. He is gone before I can bend over and pick up my dress, before I go to the restroom adjoining his office and clean up, before I redress myself, literally and figuratively. 

I am on my way outside to find Juliette and Samantha when Sister Marianna stops me in the hall. I cringe, afraid she can smell his sex on me. 

"How was your visit with Father Beautreaux?" I lie, say it was fine; as if she would care, doesn't know what he does in there with us.

I am an abomination, a pustule on the face of humanity.