the genres of dark fantasy and horror shimmer
like precious gems upon an alchemist's desk......
| If you are not familiar with the many |
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| variations in these kinds of tales perhaps we |
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| high fantasy or classic fantasy |
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| might best be described as heroic. A fine example is |
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| tolkien's LORD OF THE RINGS, WHERE HOBBITS, WIZARDS, |
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| ELVES, DWARVES AND MEN UNITE TO FIGHT EVIL. |
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| IS PRETTY SELF-EXPLANATORY, WITH A MAIN CHARACTER |
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| GENERALLY ON SOME QUEST BATTLING BOTH BRAWN |
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| AND MAGIC WITH HIS OR HER BLADE. |
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| OPENS UP THE BOUNDARIES OF THE IMAGINATION. |
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| sTYLES AND SETTINGS RUN THE GAMUT HERE FROM tales of a |
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| witches familiar stealing through crypts---to |
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| everyday people waking up to discover they've |
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| been buried alive---to a female demon imprisoned in |
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| a forest sanctuary, waiting for her next |
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| deals with ghosts and haunted locations, and |
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| often probes the mysteries of nature. |
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| visits the terrors of everyday life, from |
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| serial killers to dementia of the mind, often with |
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| A TWIST, UNSETTLING THE VERY THINGS WE COUNT UPON |
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| AS SAFE, LEAVING US VULNERABLE... |
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| iF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS OR CARE TO |
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The night smelled like stars. Leaning his head back Korzin
breathed in the crisp, dry air, arching his wings. The
night was exceptionally black. No moon shone overhead.
The single beacon in the darkness was a crimson mist
spilling down from a tower window across the lake.
He had watched from afar many times, skittering across
the stale water and spinning his webs. The nocturnal
brown rats had warned him not to venture too close, but
his curiosity would not be denied. Up to the stone pillars
carved like dragons he had crawled, impervious to the
danger--- loitering at Death's castle like a drunken merchant.
The thought came into his tiny head that he might crawl
up the face of the tower, scramble over the window
frame unnoticed and peer inside. Perhaps that's all it took.
The unnamed creature within must surely have read his
mind. Long before he reached the gargoyles the spell
washed over him. He felt his body change with a searing
coldness. He plunged through the air, and only a strange,
newfound reflex saved him. His wings began to beat,
coursing warmth through him, and he landed safely on
the ground. When he finally stopped running he saw
his own frightening reflection in a pool of water. He
had become one of the winged demons that he had
watched fly in and out of that tower window so many
nights. The sadnesses for his lost life flooded his soul. He
began to thirst. One night, he knew, he would be beckoned,
and the life he so instinctively dreaded would begin...
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