2 very early poems

by horace p sternwall

illustrated by danny delacroix and eddie el greco

modern age this is the modern age so they tell me anyhow things used to be one way but they are different now how fortunate we are to live in these bright times when the burning fires of truth have devoured history's lies how terrible the darkness in which poor humans lay farewell to folly's shadows hello to bright new day i hope that none among us dwell fondly on the past now let us all march forward for we are free at last

nature's way see how the little seagull floats over the stormy sea see how the little termite devours the mighty tree see the little mosquito spread oceans of disease as in the river's placid flow the crocodile take his ease see the platoons of scarlet ants munch whole sugar plantations and the humble tsetse fly devastate human nations see the smiling monkey slowly peel a pomegranate as wind and wave and eternity erode the spinning planet

tales of the hotel st crispian, chapter 68: "snake dance"

by Horace P. Sternwall

edited by Dan Leo*

illustrated by roy dismas and konrad kraus

a penmarq studios production

*Associate Professor of Classic Literature, Assistant Morale Advisor, Olney Community College; editor of The Dawn of Dread: 36 Previously Uncollected Tales of Domestic Strife, by Horace P. Sternwall; Olney Community College Press, “The Sternwall Project”.)

In a luxurious high-rise apartment not very far from the venerable Hotel St Crispian, the party has wound down to three people: Estelle (known as “the eviscerator”), her husband Peter, and their supposed “friend”, Michael…

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they talked...

by nooshin azadi

illustration by rhoda penmarq

. they talked i listened i talked they didn't listen i kept silent like a mountain and echoed their cries .

the invitation - 2. eugenie

by celine de courtot

illustrated by rhoda penmarq and roy dismas

the storm of the night had abated, but dark clouds still held sway in the sky when babette, the housekeeper, approached the comtesse, who was staring out the front window at the leaves and branches scattered on the wet grounds. "i am going to the village now, madame. the storm looks as if may return, and i would like to go and return before it does." "i am sure you know best, babette." "would madame like me to obtain anything extra, for our guest?" "who is, i assume, still asleep?" "jeanette and arette tell me she is still in her room." "and who has, therefore, given no indication that she wants anything to eat at all." "arette said she looked healthy enough when she arrived. i assume she has at least a normal appetite." "maybe she is a werewolf. in that case she will no doubt feed herself." "madame is pleased to be droll." "her appearance seemed to partake somewhat of the miraculous and mysterious to me. jeanette was skeptical. what do you think?" "the mysterious is quite outside my purview, madame. as to the supplies from the village..." "oh, use your own judgment. for one or two days i don't suppose she will bankrupt us. if she wakes up and wants a whole roast oxen for her lunch, we can always send one of the boys out to find one, eh?" "indeed, madame." babette took her leave. the comtesse continued to look at the window and through the trees at the darkening sky. presently babette appeared on the path, accompanied by one of the kitchen maids with a basket on her arm. "excuse me madam, " a squeaky little voice behind her interrupted the comtesse's reverie. she turned and saw the young maid referred to by the other servants as "little margaret" with her hands clenched nervously in front of her. behind her, in the wide doorway of the drawing room, stood a woman of about thirty years, of medium height and haughty bearing, wearing a plain blue dress.

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no words...

by nooshin azadi

illustration by rhoda penmarq

. no words are written on paper ever words flee into oblivion the moment they are released from the cage of our thoughts what you see on paper is their footprints . nov. 21, 2011

tales of the hotel st crispian, chapter 67: import/export

by manfred skyline

illustrated by konrad kraus , roy dismas and rhoda penmarq

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo



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the fourteenth princess - chapter 8: the determination of dorine

by emily de villaincourt

illustrated by rhoda penmarq and roy dismas

"so what exactly happened?" dorine asked jolene. "excuse me?" "in your dream. what exactly happened in your dream?" "oh - nothing much. it was just a dream. i was walking up and down. there was a lot of empty space. i had to be somewhere but i didn't know where." "a lot of open space?" "yes." jolene answered politely. "my dreams are usually in closed spaces," dorine persisted. jolene nodded again, obviously uninterested. nobody else at the breakfast table - miss prue, the other two girls who had arrived - sabine and coraline - or any of the guards - even pretended to show any interest. good! dorine had not really had any dreams at all the night before, because she had not slept at all. one of the things she had thought about was escaping. another was talking about escaping with the other girls. and another was devising a way of talking in code, so she could talk about escaping with the other girls. dreams... could they use talking about dreams as a way of talking in code? it was worth thinking about.

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