Here Are Two Excepts of
Shulalarolan The Wanderer by Eric Fabiaschi
Coming soon to Protodimension Magazine !
The .45 slug impacted the malformed and delicately stitched skin of the demon. The skin and skull beneath collapsed into itself as ripe rotten fruit left out in the hot sun. The whole thing melted and ran like a ice cream special from a Summer's day into a nearby gutter. The blue of the mysterious fluids that preserved and gave the thing life bubbled one last time. The corpse melted with gusto. Shulalarolan allowed himself a smile of some satisfaction.
After 200 years of the "Crippled Gods" hospitality it was time to see what the world had to offer. He summoned the Configuration at his side and merged with it. The paths of darkness spun themselves out before him. Now it was time to find what had happened to his ship. One step at a time he thought.
But he was free now. Free of the dogma, the pseudo mummery that passed for religion, and the tortures of small minded demons whose flesh was teased and stitched beyond all hope. He allowed himself a smile for the first time in centuries as he stepped on to he paths.
Shulalarolan The Wanderer by Eric Fabiaschi
October 12, 2011
The clowns had found him and were on his trail again.
Shulalarolan tore through the road between universes as quick as his four legs could carry him. They had found him after his fangs had consumed the caretaker's soul in the graveyard of the ancient gods. The humanoid born of incubus and daughter of eve's soul rested within his diseased gullet nurturing his power and thrice damned remains that passed for his own soul.
His rat- wolf form gave him a glittering series of sense shattering impressions and allowed him to lose them in the half formed nightmares that passed for dreams these days. The Colt 1911's and the crystal skull were now a part of the non flesh that formed his other self. These waited else when. Ready at the beckoned call of this creature from out of the most ancient of legends and magic induced hallucinations.
On wards along the road between places Shulalarolan The Wanderer raced against the coming of Paradise's dawn. The light of heaven shall not find me. "Rahab's brood will not catch me and I will slip through the cracks of these worlds once again" he thought as he raced onward. Ever onward.
"die Todten reiten schnell" "the dead travel fast"
Ellenore, is a poem written by German author Gottfried August Bürger in 1773
These stories are inspired by the music of Tim Dry. And the artwork of Eric Gross from the Followers of the Pandorics. They'll be appearing in the next issue of Protodimension magazine along with the world of
Shulalarolan The Wanderer.
Find out more about Tim Dry right HERE
The wonderful creations of Eric Gross HERE
Then download the latest issues of Protodimension magazine HERE
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