Category Archives: horror

CHERUBIM

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Hello!

I’m Jay H, a.k.a Bonesnail.  You can find my work at bonesnail.com, or at Bonesnail on Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, and Instagram.

I’ve always been a fan of mythology ever since I was a little kid. Even though I wasn’t raised in a particularly religious household, growing up in Kansas always had an overwhelming presence of Christianity in the culture.  As a young adult I’d read about Apocrypha (Biblical writings Protestantism considers non-canonical) and older, discarded elements such as the Angelic Hierarchy.  I like to joke that it’s a real shame they left those out of Sunday school teachings, because I would have enjoyed church so much more if they told me stories about 4-headed Cherubim and Ophanim, the eye-covered Wheels of God’s Throne.

I feel like there’s a lot of queer folks like myself in the Midwest who grew up around religion and adopted elements of that into their work, either as inspiration or as reclamation and defiance to Christian-based bigotry. It’s certainly been a way for me to not only enrich my art, but also shed myself of long-existing angst about my nonbinary trans identity.  It’s still in its infancy, but I feel like the Queer Occultism aesthetic is something that will continue to grow and inspire others.

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It’s Creaking Up Above

The wind howled it’s way around the cracks and corners of the tiny house. Inside, the youngest of the family, a boy of five, was the only one awake, the blanket to his chin. He heard that wind in his nightmares sometimes, as it came whipping in off the long plains that stretched around the farm forever. It scared him less when the thunder slammed into the windows with it, or it brought the snow to take the world away. Those times it was right, and natural, and only doing what wind must do, because it is wind.

On nights like this, however, it screamed for no reason but to scare him. His father hated it because it hurt the trees, and his mother hated it because it made her sneeze, but he feared it as it encroached, enraged at him for some reason he could never understand.

He could swear he felt the house crouch lower huddling and hiding against the onslaught. The boy could commiserate, and scrambled further down into his quilts, large eyes staring. It almost seemed like he could hear things rustling in the attic above. Perhaps the wind had found it’s way in, or scared in a creature much like himself, small and quaking. Or maybe, as his mother so often said, her lips pursed, her voice snapping like the knots that burst in the fire, his imagination was simply too active. He tried to make it behave, but it never seemed to listen.

Listen. The creaking of the wood, right above his bed. A hole in the roughly hewn planks tried to catch his eye, and he pulled the blankets higher with a gasping little noise.

There’s was probably nothing up there, just like the apple tree wasn’t a skeleton, and the fox holes weren’t secret tunnels to buried treasure.
Continue reading It’s Creaking Up Above

A Note on Death

When I died, there was no white light at the end of a tunnel, no gathering of the spirits of late friends and family members—it wasn’t even nothingness. Since my death and crossing into the after-realm, I’ve heard from others that it’s different for everyone, but at first we all experienced the same thing.

From what I could gather, there was one general consensus. Death is both painful and painless. Some spirits hypothesize that it’s the disconnection of the soul from the body, like snapping a rubber band so hard that it breaks. There was an immediate flash of crippling pain, and then a complete lack of feeling or body. Following that was some form of nausea, possibly the last physical feeling a soul experiences before arriving in the afterlife. I think it’s some form of spiritual whiplash; the shock from the pain of dying versus the immediate numbness almost creates its own feeling.

Scientists say that a brain can function up to a few minutes after the heart stops. I think that’s where the pain comes from, like some kind of echo. There’s also a hypothesis that says the brain releases every bit of DMT it has stored up in the brain, all at once. That would explain the following experience.

Continue reading A Note on Death

All in Fear: Queer Horror for the Holidays

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All in Fear is a queer horror anthology that features a wide variety of different topics. From vampires, to experiments, to frat houses, All in Fear has something for everyone. Each one of these six stories has a unique and alluring feel to it, drawing the reader into the world of the author. All in Fear: A Collection of Six Horror Tales is available now at OpenInkPress.com.

GenderTerror was lucky to get a small interview with each of the authors, asking them what their inspirations were as well as why queer horror was something that was important to them. Each author’s personal feelings are felt in each story in this small anthology, making it that much more personal and interesting for readers.

Continue reading All in Fear: Queer Horror for the Holidays

Momento Mori

There was something to be said about the light.

It was sort of terrifying, the thought of having every last organ exposed, having people see them raw and cold and laid out on the slab. But that was the way it always went. Cold air. Icy touches. The instruments were shiny and sharp and cut through them like butter. Their insides were too dark, too cool, too sticky with clotting blood. They always got to them before they were bloated. Usually just after rigor set in. This was their job, after all.

This happened every week.

They would not know when death would claim them, exactly, but it happened so often that the fear had dulled down to a nauseating apprehension.

They would proceed through life quietly and as happily as they could, but then, eventually, it would be an icy Wednesday afternoon and they’d find themselves pinned beneath the too-hot, panting form of a werewolf. Teeth yellow, drool against their skin, and then those fangs (ones they studied in class, ones that were not supposed to belong to beasts this far in the city) would be digging into their throat, giving, taking, ripping away the life from their body as they kicked and screamed.

It happened all the time. They would be dead, as physically dead as any other lycanthrope or car crash or murder victim, but they would still be in there, in most senses of the word. Trapped in their cocoon of meat and sinew, dripping cooling blood and covered in bruises. Sentient, but only partially feeling. Un-moving. Cold.

Then the autopsy.

Continue reading Momento Mori

Dark Corners: Finding Ourselves in Horror

GaymerX East panel/talk on queer horror presented by Lucian Clark of GenderTerror. Best listened to with headphones as some parts are quiet!

Presented at GaymerX East 2016.

The two articles referenced in the talk:

Monsters Of Our Own: Monster Symbolism in the Trans Community

SOMA: A Trans-Simon Experience

Patrons gets access to the transcript of the original writing of the panel! Go check out our Patreon.

Inevitable Choices

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Hi there –

I’m Danielle Draik, D. Draik, or just Draik. You can find my work on Tumblr, Instagram, Facebook, or Etsy.

I’ve been working with an established visual language for most of my career – incorporating shapes and deformity to express moments, narratives, feelings, and identities. As far as figures go, I try to keep most of them androgynous/non-binary, mainly because I want there to be no barrier or inherent bias when the figure is presented to the viewer. My figures are their own and they can be connected to without assumption.

Continue reading Inevitable Choices

Sea Changes

Ben shut the bathroom door before he turned on the fan, the sink, and the tub faucet. He paused for a moment, then turned on the shower as well, a cascade of sound surrounding him. It wasn’t enough. He imagined he could still hear the thrashing in the backyard pool, the way it grew increasingly frantic before it finally slowed. Then, as always, stopped.

He sat on the edge of the tub, almost hyperventilating. The water from the shower beat a warm staccato against the vinyl shower curtain pressed against his back. Drops of mist caught in his hair and mingled with the sweat that trickled down his face and back, soaking into his clothes.

He wasn’t sure how long he remained like that, mind racing but going nowhere, until he was shocked out of it by a knock on the door.  He didn’t answer, and after a few long moments, it opened slowly.

“Ben?”

Continue reading Sea Changes

CHEWTOY

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Hey I’m Murphy, a trans guy from Ontario, Canada. You can find me on tumblr, twitter and furaffinity (forewarning, my fa has nsfw content)!

While I’ve only more recently began adding gore to my art, it’s been something I’ve obsessed over since childhood. Gross, slimy, horror has always drawn me in. And of course for Halloween I just had to draw a werewolf using his tiny boyfriend as a chewtoy!

Happy Halloween!

This post was made possible with support from Patreon. Support GenderTerror and its creators by becoming a part of our Patreon! Every dollar counts!

Picking

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Hey folks, I’m Marty – you can find me online as marblemartin on tumblr, twitter, FA… pretty much everywhere. I’m a nonbinary transmasculine artist living in Indianapolis, Indiana, which is luckily a small haven for the LGBTQ community in the midst of all these cornfields. I draw comics and recently opened up a little bookbindery/studio. I love monsters, critters, aliens, and robots. There’s something freeing about not adhering to human beauty when drawing these things!

I struggle with depression and anxiety alongside my dysphoria – both the social and bodily types – and this seems to be a common issue in the queer community. For me it manifests with me picking at my cuticles and skin, a kind of dermatillomania. It’s not quite what people expect when they think of self-harm, but it’s still destructive. I sometimes get weirdly freaked out about depicting myself in art – am I being too accurate and ‘misgendering’ myself visually, am I being too idealistic? So I decided to get out my hangups over my picking in a comic, just go full William Blake and bare my ugly side. Bring on the scabby chrysalis, I’m ready to turn into a beautiful queer butterfly.

Support GenderTerror and its creators by becoming a part of our Patreon! Every dollar counts!