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Nickolaus A. Pacione

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Member Since: Jun, 2002

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Books
· Nickolaus Albert Pacione Delivers: A Library Of Unknown Horrors

· Emanations

· Dirty Black Winter

· An Eye In Shadows

· The Ethereal Gazette: Issue Five

· Quakes and Storms: A Natural Disaster Anthology

· Norwood's Discovery

· Stories of the Apparitions

· Halloween On Camera

· Tabloid Purposes


Short Stories
· Il nostro mondo è violentata

· Fandom Weirdness

· A Rural Weird Tale

· A Personal Stalker

· The Monster Amongst Man

· Inquistion Revisted

· Witch's Party

· Misguidance

· Spectral Exile

· The Ichabod


Articles
· Examining The Blogosphere

· Gothic Tinged Memoir Anthology Call

· Gothicism on Trial

· OFFICIAL AUTHORSDEN ANTHOLOGY -- DYERS EVE

· The Aftermath: 2 Days of Darkness

· Review: The Tooth Fairy

· review: The Garden

· The Author Speaks

· Hammerhead: SHARK FRENZY

· Writing The Fossil


Poetry
· Desolated Oblivian

· Gates Of Charon

· Stonehenge

· Feburary Forlorn

· A Morpheus Sleep

· untitled

· eternal judgement

· Birthed In Ashes....

· Passing Judgement

· In Memoriam...

         More poetry...
News
· Magazine Submission Guidelines

· Gothic Extreme Horror

· Flying Cigars gets accepted..

· Story will be slated to appear in Insomnia Magazine

· Colaboration gets accepted -- then a sequel is available

· Lake Fossil II is live as a downloadable story

· In the Hospital.. got accepted on The Writers Post Journal

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Stir The Bones
By Nickolaus A. Pacione
Posted: Monday, October 13, 2003
Last edited: Friday, December 01, 2006
This short story was "not rated" by the Author.

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Recent stories by Nickolaus A. Pacione
· A Personal Stalker
· Oct 13, 1993
· I Want To See You In Black
· Il nostro mondo è violentata
· The Statue
· Carnival of Carpathia
· Ghosts In The Tornado: The Notes
           >> View all 73
...drawn from a nightmare within a horror writer's mind.
Described from the various nervous breakdowns that one was not able to sleep. From the questioned mental states as they were written from different perspectives as they would tell from them in the voices inside, where they tell each detail that becomes of them. As in places where one doesn’t know,  that even in the mind that the faith in heaven and hell would join them.  From the landscapes within the dream induced by the medication, it would become among the vast description –-- between the places where one cannot really bring from one place into the next.  Where it echoes from time and the dream becomes the narration of the reality principle. That becomes the echo of God and the end of creation becomes the nature of landscape that darkness holds its morbid grip. Beneath all that remains in the memory of the Stygian absolutes.  That of the places that tear into the mind like they are one form of the biblical plagues, that in the dream it would be as such where in the hospital would overshadow the plague of flies. In where that it would stir within the sense of the mind I would put to the words that one  would find a struggle of a way to really describe this as what would say in a rational  being.  That everything around them had been irrational and tormented beyond any sign of belief.
            These places as they become the dreams as drawn from them in places that I cannot even find the words to describe of them.   As they were once alive --- which tell in the windows before them.  Where it is in places create the gaps of mind,  yet it is there from the places as they are waiting to become where the pages become flesh.  In the mind when the prayers whispered in the memory to the mind grown in shadows. Between of what tells of the time,  that when in the memory becomes the absence of which --- from the telling in time draw from the only. Beneath the illness which drawn from the mind further into the becoming from the slumber. Where it draws from them in the choices and words seen in an echo of the closing.  From them as I wrote in a testimony of sorts, becoming from them as the dream cannot begin to draw from a present or past tense telling. From either the psych meds or lack of sleep that become the driving reason for where this is penned. Where they crawl in the dust as memories of them seen in these pages,  that in a state where one might think that the writer is delusional; that it becomes the theories of the forsaken eyes. Where it is from the perspective of the doctors they would find different ideas of where to end up staying away. Of the years ago when the committed had been within the pages,  as they would tell from here.   In places that are told  becoming from them,  where it draws from the places which one cannot yet put a finger upon ---- which grown from them in the darkness that is unveiled.   From them of which told,  and pages which gather from their documents and journals of the disturbing accounts.   In account of the nurses that draw from the cycle,  it would be of them that stir the bones. Where it would be in eyes of the nurses which see the specter in form of a cat starting back them,  with a pair of hellish eyes ---  as they were almost human.  
            Where the dream takes further into the depths which become the sight of the cat looking on. That it draws from the witness of the nurse and doctors that tell from them,  in the eyes of what they saw bare the sight of an absolute horror  related to be foot prints in blood belonging an animal -– either by a feline or a rodent. But just the same it would be in the reminders of the things penned in books of urban myths,  being that they would have some that would remain of the grotesque.  A grotesque display of sorts where I have to put to the words that it would seem to be from the pages of a Stephen King novel.  Where it would seem from a dream as the pages were already written,  that it would be in the mind standing before them where the edge of sanity is stirring the bones.   Depths.  ....from bleeding,  deeper falling from the spiral abyss becoming from the death of sanity.  From places that I am never was to understand of them when they become an echo of oneself.
           The unearthly yowling of the cat would be the thing that would have the disembodied sound to it -- where it was loud enough to be in the room but yet;  it wasn’t in the room. Though they were in disbelief in the factors that were there before them.  From the rational thought that tells from their patterns that would draw unto a testimony of that would remain of the pattern of the bizarre for them.  Where it would be in the question that lays within the mind while the rest of the body lays numb.  Beneath the shadow of the mind which lays wandering -- from the thousand signs of madness that I find.  Watch the seasons as the places where they lay,  to the places drawn as depths become as they remain.  In the places where the body would remain to be going under.  In the dream as one finds the pages to describe in their vivid details that it would be in the mind which remain the most frightening place of them all.
           The howl from the wind outside of the windows gather in the force of a maelstrom as it would come to the words to really find a way to see that  in the darkness around them -- that gather in a ghostly form as the existence of  God.    In this which is heard in a dark silence -- that become the whisper of a tormented prayer.   From them and the dream as they are related to the nurse or doctors, they would have this gaze to them that would appear like they question of the sanity of the narrator in question.  Of where the questions become from them in the narration as they are slowly penned within process.  Time where it ticks from an edge of darkness,  when they heard the silence in their own madness -- that would be where the cat perched itself on one of the doors exiting the room.  From the psychiatric point of view where I write of these -- describing the echo of a personal hell,  where they are further from the truth as one can get.  Where they bring about the question of sanity's edge that grow as the falling described as when Satan fell from heaven,  of the pages which describe -- the dream that transcibe themselves out to the way they are written in the journal of the madman. 
         Of the echo'd snarl which stands in the eyes which are blind to the horror before them -- the cat staring on as it had no shape or face to it.  Of places which are penned from the etchings of the crosses and pentagrams upon the walls,  as the laughter grows louder from the rooms of the patients as they continue to lose what senses they have. Which the cat proceeded to drink from the throat of the nurse which lays without motion,  from two wounds on her neck that the cat seemed to made with its teeth. Where in the room had a painting that was resembling the black cat that was drinking from the wounds from the woman's neck.  That the eyes of the cat were glowing like they were not belonging to them,  yet they were theirs.  Somewhere from the mind as they gather -- that no one around the writer of this was able to see them,  that the question of the nightmare as one might claim that one is delusional. From where the surface within the dreams that stir the bones. Where they find looking on as when they see their mind flow,  of the places while they dream which the cat drinks from their veins.  From places that where they cannot describe,  knowing that in their aeons it is in the time when their dreams become the painting stirring their bones.
          From them which become the echo of the plague waiting for them as the feline drank from the sleeping nurse. As from where the nurses scream from the discovering of a bloodcurdling horror and grotesque display standing before them,  which they see a feline drinking the blood of a human that was dead to the world around them.  The horrid sight in itself when one looks at the cat drinking the blood -- the way it looks when it does that is beyond something of this time, where it appeared to be as something evil.  Crawling---it seems from them as what describes from a rational witness. Which become in  the memories of time stirring before them as they see the hellish form standing before them yowling before the full moon.   From the words that would be told from the writer's perspective are just written off as the edge of madness looking at him.  Crawling.  .....slowly from lunacity,  drawn closer as the madness from the mind disolves away at the faith.  Praying.  That known madness from nightmares drawn in the sanity, etching away at what was left of the faith that died.  Waiting from tribulations, and the revelations which drawn from the plagues of death that become from them.  From a dellusional horror that draws inside the madness of the mentally ill mind -- it would become this as the grounds where one sees the things that cannot be seen or claimed to be seen.   Of the horrors that I cannot describe of them,  but I remember of them becoming from the echo of the medication given.
          Where the influence of them become when the medication is induced into the sleep but it was from the medication that I put into the irrational thoughts that are there.   Of what became of the irrational thought as the dreams are written before them -- the description of where they say of the vampire feline would perch before them,  that the thought of this would stir the bones.   Beneath all that rises from the ashes become the memory of all that was of the mortal remains,  in the places of time when a question of heaven and hell become the existence. That where it would become of the places that descend from one point of the abyss into the next; places which fall among the patterns within the mind.  That it would be from the eerie glow beneath them as their mind is slowly dying of their sanity.
            From the places they fall -- that in the sleep gathered to the senses of which had died all those years from the meds prescribed.   In the sleep from pages drawn from the descending,  into the fragile art of existence.  In their grotesque forms and delusional states which become the varied description and narration which the nightmare becomes the most evident. Of points where they break before the bend, that the darkness drawn in an echo of a prayer before the eyes and hand of God staring on.  Whether to tell if he is laughing as he released the plagues.  Which it becomes the echo of the dream,  describing the shadow of what becomes the reckoning -- the thoughts that become from the mind waiting to be said or known.  That from myself that I write,  in the places which drawn in the madness of where a person who has a mental illness suffers -- it would be in the nightmares that paint the picture within the darkest of minds.  From the pages which had been kept in the room of the hospital that always had a Holy Bible close by,  but the described of the nightmares would be in the echo the plague of blood.  That drawn into the height of sanity when all around them dies,  when the day that the sun will die -- and darkness would be the thing that watches on.  The question of ones sanity had always been in play when the nightmares and horror had been the plot,   from madness becomes the sin -- horror had always been the creation of man's uncreation.  From the absolutes drawn from the stygian dreams, as the absolutes of one thing become the written of an unstable mind.  Of where a nervous breakdown is a driving thing for the nightmares and the waking hours,   that become the horror within the lost sanity drawn as where the cat looks back upon them -- with blood off the fingers.

 

Web Site: Writings From The Grave  

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Reviewed by William Neven 10/14/2003
I enjoyed the techniques you used such as some well-chosen repititious wording included to enhance the dreamlike - yet forebodingly horrifying - effect of your piece. One might say it was gloriously gruesome. It is a formula I have seen you use in some of your other writings, and you work well with it. I wish you continued literary success, Nickolaus.
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 10/13/2003
scary, intense read; very well presented, nickolaus! thank you for the english translation; now i know w hat the story was about! glad you translated it! like it even better in english! :D (((HUGS))) and much love, your texas friend, karen lynn. :)


Books by
Nickolaus A. Pacione



Collectives In A Forsaken Landscape

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Nickolaus Albert Pacione Delivers: A Library Of Unknown Horrors

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Tabloid Purposes

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An Eye In Shadows

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Signed copy!
Amazon, more..




Emanations

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Signed copy!
Amazon, Barnes & Noble, more..




Dirty Black Winter

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Amazon, more..




Quakes and Storms: A Natural Disaster Anthology

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