Our young narrator is a chronic smoker. His mother brings home a keepsakes for her teen-aged son. It is a thick glass ashtray with a huge dead black scorpion embedded in its center. At first he begins to notice that the creature moves, or is it his imagination? But when the ashtray breaks, and the scorpion is nowhere to be found, he realizes he is in for the fight of his life.
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A word about Anthony:
In literature these are the eras agreed upon by academics: Medieval, Renaissance, Enlightenment, Romantic, Victorian, Naturalism/Realism, Existentialism, Beat, Modern and Post Modern. Did you know that the genre of Horror has no eras because academia does not consider it a legitimate field of study. I consider horror to begin with the Romantic (Frankenstein), Victorian (Dracula), Golden (Cthulhu), Silver (Manitou, The Keep, The Rats), and Cyber (which is today's use of the internet by both e-authors and paper authors).
Although academia has only begun to listen to me and my categorization of the cybernocturnal as a new form of literature, I storm ahead with my chronology of horror and hope that the academics will catch up. This is our field, what we read, what we write, what we discuss. We can't wait for some anthropologist to decide what "horror" is 100 years from now. It's our responsibility today. That's what the Servante of Darkness is all about. I write reviews. I discuss literary trends. I interview people of note.
Anthony maintains a blog Servante of Darkness at