[NOTE: Originally posted October 3rd, 2014 as part of that year’s 31 Days of Halloween]
Tag Archives: fiction
Miss Rose of Summerisle
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[NOTE: This post was originally published on my version of this blog at the now-defunct Open Salon, on October 8th, 2011, one day after Diane Cilento’s passing. I’m including the original comments to my blog post, because why not?]
Let’s kick off the weekend with a short tribute to the late Diane Cilento, who passed away yesterday at the age of 78. The beautiful Ms. Cilento was both a Tony (Tiger at the Gates) and an Oscar (Tom Jones) nominee, and was also known for being Sean Connery’s ex-wife. Sadly, to this last point, there are uncomfortable accounts of his abominably abusive behavior towards her.
Choosers of the Slain!
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SISTER LUCRETIA DISMAS,
NOIR NUN!
In
CHOOSERS OF THE SLAIN!
(copyright Chillerpop)
He had a carefully styled beard, horn rimmed glasses, a beret and an affected vintage shirt, but his most notable accessory at the moment was the cheap tin fork sticking out of the back of his bloody hand.
The hipster had committed no crime other than trying to make conversation with Sister Lucretia Dismas, who was enjoying a 10 a.m. plate of cheese fries and a shot of patron accompanied by a Belgian lager. But the nun, who considered Rudy’s Bar & Grill on 44th her office, could not take his officious yammering, his thinly veiled condescension and wonder at her being a nun in a bar, his annoying opinions on fashion, film, fat people, religion, music, and his own looks, opinions she neither asked for nor engaged.
When she had enough, with reflexes born of years of fighting crime and supernatural menaces, the nun picked up her fork and put an end to his prattling. Continue reading
Stick to Your Nuns!
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October 10, 2017
(This post was originally published May 13, 2010 and is part of an ongoing serial of fiction stories about Sister Lucretia Dismas, aka the ‘Noir Nun’, a violent foul mouthed nun fighting crime and occult menaces)
Heart racing violently, tears threatening to burst forth in relief, the woman observed Sister Lucretia Dismas walking up the stairs and down the long corridor of the drab concrete hallway. As the nun strode forth in sweeping steps, her habit and robe billowed splendidly, sentient, living extensions of the holy woman’s will. Continue reading
Chillerpop 