The Webzine of Undead-Canine Speculative Fiction
VamPoodle Issue One Preview!
VamPoodle's first issue will be going "live" soon. Until then, here's a preview of some of the works we have accepted so far. Come back in a few months for the full issue ... it will be worth the wait!
Excerpt from "French Fried Poodle"
by Gerard Houarner
Oooh la la, c'est magnifique....
The ankle. It all starts at the ankle, does it not? Always for me, it does. The faint pulsing of the vein under the skin, the turn of bone, the play of muscle -- there is just something about a Parisian lady walking in the Bois de Boulogne in her high heels, no hose, flaunting her flesh like the most rabid of my sisters in heat, that whets my appetite like a good fois gras once did, when I lived.
But now I am dead, and the blood of Parisian women calls. And what greater pleasure can there be, when the blood is gone, to gnaw at the good bone beneath?...
Excerpt from "In the Long, Sweet Hollow: Lord of Fleas"
by Shikhar Dixit
...As long as I've walked this narrow path, through the clumsily cocked doggie-door, these stains have not faded -- not from the peeling beige trim, not from my soul. The brunt of my guilt lays in setting that bestial mass free -- that sentient flea circus already responsible for the consumption of North America...
And now, from the poem
"Vamp Poodle and The Devil"
by Linda Addison
She thought to harness his power
saying his name
in fifty different languages
on the thirteenth hour of
the thirteenth day of the last month,
Her curly hair freshly trimmed
toe nails cut, rhinestone collar
shining like diamonds, her bite
much worse than her bark,
He was drawn to her dark eyes
the perfect passion in her enunciation
perhaps he would like to play her game,
She performed the Dance of the Seven Veils
and Seven Seals, stealing one crumb from him,
He thought it a small price for such succelent pleasure...
And an excerpt from CANINETY
By John R. Platt
...Kennedy scoffed and puffed at his pipe. "But surely, Johansson, you must be mistaken. Surely you mean dog years. Seven years to our one, and all that."
Johansson scowled. He knew he never should have brought the subject to light, even to his old friend. No one believed him. No one ever did.
"I am not mistaken, Kennedy," he said, staring off into the fire. "Nor was my father. Nor his father before him. The dog has haunted our family for four score years, and more." He felt a chill wind whisper through the room, and the flames seemed to recede into the great stone fireplace.
"A regular 'Houno of the Baskervilles,' whot," Kennedy joked, referring to the recent story in the Strand by Conan Doyle.
Johansson waved the comment off. He did not know the reference, did not care to be mocked.
The dog would come again. Soon. Perhaps that very weekend. And then Kennedy would believe.
If he lived long enough...
COME BACK SOON FOR THE FULL FIRST ISSUE OF VamPOODLE!
Copyright (c) 2002 VamPoodle, LLC & all respective creators
