Tag: J. A. Nicholl

You can buy J. A. Nicholl’s short story collection Venus and Her Thugs here.

1,943 words

J. A. Nicholl’s collection of 15 weird tales was published by Counter-Currents in 2017. The stories perfectly synthesize the various sentiments and viewpoints of those on the Dissident Right with horror-based literature; most importantly, this is done without beating the reader over the head with politics or painstakingly proving a point. To put it as plainly as possible, Nicholl’s writing and storytelling abilities are superb, and this collection is a must-read for anyone even remotely interested in the genre. Greg Johnson accurately summarizes the feel of this work in his back-cover description: (more…)

1,619 words

J. A. Nicholl
Venus & Her Thugs: Fifteen Weird Tales
San Francisco: Counter-Currents, 2017

What is a weird tale? To keep the question manageable, it makes sense to think only about modern, literary tales. In that respect, then, the weird tale is a scion of the ghost story family. The modern, literary ghost story is widely acknowledged to have been created by M. R. James. James’ stories followed a formula of a cerebral, monastic academic discovering some sort of occult object, and subsequently being assaulted by a supernatural emanation connected to that object. (more…)

8,156 words

They were walking past a Fernwood gym one day while out shopping when Shannon uncharacteristically sighed, “I’ve put on so much weight this year. If only I had time to get to the gym!”

Nick responded by getting overly excited: “Hey, why not? Maybe we could go together.”

“Together? You do know that’s a women-only gym!”  (more…)

117 words

The waters soon close dark and velvet-heavy
around a stone big enough to smash a skull,
the ripples torpid as in mud or gravy.
What will it take to clarify these dull,
foetid waters, for our men to reject
The notion that wild animals are as tame
as they; our feral women a foul object
one shudders to give credence to, or name.
(more…)

112 words

What would you like to do, dear little girl,
When you grow up? Something with animals
Or children, perhaps? Schoolyard love soon palls
And that scary blank expanse you see unfurl—
Look closer: it’s a blueprint for a sort
Of intangible palace you’re supposed to build
Around yourself. Then, at last, when you have willed
It into being (no hurry; women fought

To clear a wide array of paths for you),  (more…)

Leonardo da Vinci, Madonna Litta

3,068 words

They were sleeping apart after Yusuf had yet again failed to stand up to his parents, who still refused to acknowledge their son’s de facto relationship with her. Maureen had just overheard heard him yet again tactfully and without remonstration decline to be set up with someone more to their liking, who would make him a “good wife.” They would sleep apart that night.

Her bed was a raft out in a pitch black sea reminiscent of an illustration in a book of nursery rhymes from when she was a child. (more…)

111 words

There once was a little man. He lived and
Then he died, blood and the contents of his skull
Mixed with the others’. The end. Then how full
Were the streets with candles, hearts of chalk, grand
Monuments all evanescently lit
With the colours of what happened to be
His country’s flag. Oh they were cowardly
Those wicked Brusselaars who dared commit  (more…)

5,630 words

Their lunch breaks overlapping, as often happened, Ted was hovering around while Jenna and her friend Dina — these days heavily involved with the campus group that called itself “The Nonviolent Gender Alliance” — discussed whether Jenna might be persuaded to come along too, and if so, who she would bring.  (more…)

4,426 words

Author’s Note:

This story is based on a “creepypasta” entitled “Channel 67” published in a collection edited by Gregory West and Hayley Wicker. Like most such urban legends, the story sounded familiar to me when I read it, although I have not been able to find any other closely similar versions online. (more…)

5,255 words

I see them crowd on crowd they walk the earth
Dry, leafless trees no Autumn wind laid bare;
And in their nakedness find cause for mirth,
And all unclad would winter’s rudeness dare;
No sap doth through their clattering branches flow,
Whence springing leaves and blossoms bright appear;
Their hearts the living God have ceased to know,
Who gives the springtime to th’expectant year;
They mimic life, as if from him to steal
His glow of health to paint the livid cheek; (more…)

8,862 words

Roger sat in the gaming room of his local pub with a dwindling reserve of chips in his cup. The feeling of sinking deeper into the irredeemable with every coin inserted gave him an odd thrill, even though fundamentally he knew it was stupid. That was the point. And it made a fantasy come to life in his mind: If he kept losing he could always go home to his flat, pack a bag or two, jump in the car and just drive–just say goodbye to everything and maybe get a job picking fruit, cash in hand. Forget the credit card companies and live off the grid somewhere. (more…)

4,078 words

It happened on a housing estate in the inner city. A piece of former parkland that had been handed over to developers to build two storey homes, based on the town house concept, for yuppies who’d come along too late to be part of the last gentrification wave. I never would have known such a place existed, though it was a short bike ride away from where I lived.  (more…)