Two kinds of people enjoy horror, whether movies, books, or music—horror fans and horror aficionados. The horror fan will know Michael, Freddy, and Jason, Dracula and Frankenstein, keeping primarily to the popular and well-known titles. The horror aficionado immerses themselves in collecting and discussing, reading and watching, the popular in the genre, but also the cult classics and hidden gems. They will exalt the aforementioned, but also Pinhead and Leatherface, Martin and Dagon. The aficionado can discuss Mary Shelley, Bram Stoker, and Thomas Harris, but also Lovecraft, Richard Matheson, and Edward Lee.
The horror fan delights in the adrenaline rush of a fright, the momentary thrill of experiencing danger in a safe setting. They relate to the victims’ with dread of impending death and doom, while clinging to the security nothing truly lurks under the bed, no killer waits outside the door. The aficionado relates to the monster, the killer. This is not to suggest they harbor homicidal tendencies on which they might act, but more so, as Nietzsche described it, a will to power. The monster knows complete and absolute freedom without limit or boundary. It does not ponder questions of morality; right and wrong do not exist, only desire and instinct. To free the mind, allow evil a place, inspires depths of imagination the squeamish cannot know.
The fan glimpses evil and retreats a safe distance into security, leaving behind abstract terror, and ignoring the fear agitated deep within. The aficionado relishes the meeting with the heinous and horrible. They touch the darkness with a claw-tipped finger and lick the black ichor with a forked tongue past dripping fans. For them, horror stimulates the imagination, creating realms of terrible beauty—a chest peeled open in flowered petals, drops fall like crimson rain onto glistening exposed muscle—-a thousand worlds revealed in the ominous night.
The fan will forget the fear in a moment, but the aficionado will swim in the terror, take it in and turn it to creation. A new universe will rise from every encounter birthing hordes of the impossible. Monsters, unnatural killers, forbidding landscapes open the mind to the unseen and force a reckoning of spirit. To know the evil lurking behind every fleshy mask is to understand the nature of humankind and the essence of imagination. When the horror fan peeks into the abyss, they recoil and flee to the assurances of reality. When the aficionado stares into the abyss, the abyss stares aback, and the aficionado greets it; “Hello old friend, do come in.”
About the Author
After spending twenty years as the lead singer of a progressive metal band, Dallas Mullican turned his creative impulses toward writing. Raised on King, Barker, and McCammon, he moved on to Poe and Lovecraft, enamored with the macabre. During his time at the University of Alabama at Birmingham, where he received degrees in English and Philosophy, Dallas developed a love for the Existentialists, Shakespeare, Faulkner, and many more great authors and thinkers. Incorporating this wide array of influences, he entices the reader to fear the bump in the night, think about the nature of reality, and question the motives of their fellow humans.
A pariah of the Deep South, Dallas doesn’t understand NASCAR, hates Southern rock and country music, and believes the great outdoors consists of walking to the mailbox and back. He remains a metalhead at heart, and can be easily recognized by his bald head and Iron Maiden t-shirt.
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About his book
The media has dubbed him the Seraphim Killer. He believes the gods have charged him to release the chosen, those for whom life has become an unbearable torment. Gabriel feels their suffering—his hands burn, his skull thunders, his stomach clenches. Once they are free, he places coins on their eyes to pay Charon for passage into paradise.
Detective Marlowe Gentry has spent the past two years on the edge. The last serial killer he hunted murdered his wife before his eyes and left his young daughter a mute shell. Whenever she looks at him, her dead eyes push him farther into a downward spiral of pain and regret. He sees the Seraphim as an opportunity for revenge, a chance to forgive himself―or die trying.
Gabriel performs the gods’ work with increasing confidence, freeing the chosen from their misery. One day, the gods withdraw the blessing―a victim he was certain yearned for release still holds the spark of life. Stunned, he retreats into the night, questioning why the gods have abandoned a loyal servant. Without his calling, Gabriel is insignificant to the world around him.
He will do anything to keep that from happening.
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