The Rock N' Roll Horror Zine

Music Of The Piper by Matthew Wilson “I always hated being deaf, meningitis got me as a baby and nearly destroyed my inner ear as well as part of my brain and though mom told me I could still have a full, fun life, I still envied other kids hearing birds, running water and more in style at the time,” -Richard “The Piper” Omar Idiots said he’d sold his soul to light up that guitar the way he did and when kids came to school wearing his image on their shirts, again I envied their coolness for getting expelled. The great Richard Omar oozed danger and so I wanted to sample this alluring music that topped the charts every week. Until Omar killed everyone. To be fair, I guess he made everyone kill each other but it was the talk of our household when police surrounded his villa on live TV for attacking that female fan at a hick city concert. The police ordered Omar to his knees, but the great musician played one lick of his guitar and laughed when the officers...

The Devil Guitar by Michael Britten It had been delivered.   I raced up to my lofty apartment with both trepidation and excitement.  I moved through my rooms down towards the back, and there it stood, The Devil Guitar. It was basically a 335, but with a difference.  Said to be one of a kind. Handcrafted by Mr. Gibson himself for a man who performed the black arts.  The guitar had become a legend. Its hollow body looked lackluster with its natural, and I might add, unvarnished wood.  This was a request of the customer. It is said that he baptized the guitar with the blood of a human sacrifice, hence the slightly darkened staining.  And it is also written that the tuning pegs were carved from real bone. These I quickly inspected, but they offered up no clue, other than being slightly course to the touch.   I did not further inspect this stunning curio.  The legend surrounding it and its strange owner was for another day. ...

Remains of Maniacs by Matthew Wilson I liked Dan Romeo’s music despite his murders and then in time, because of them. Idiots shit on rock as a bad influence, that the lyrics Dan cut into his arms before each gig were a sign of madness rather than their own misunderstanding of beauty. Pain is a constant companion of beauty for that is where our children come from and having no kin of my own I decided to birth my own music. I failed and realized I needed someone to teach me so I waited till the cemetery caretaker had gone home for the night before I climbed over the spiky gate and turned on my flashlight. Dan’s family had bought him a fine marble headstone when they’d thrown him in the ground with the noose still around his neck, a stone which had been demolished by his victims' families within a week. My rock god had gone to terrible lengths to find his inspiration but some men must go to dark places to get their name in lights. Curious owls turned their yellow e...

It Just Sounds Better On Vinyl By Ben Fitts I’m very excited. I just got the new record by Capra Coven from Light Side Records downtown. I haven’t heard them yet but my friend Jack says these Englishmen are the best heavy metal band ever. He told me that they’re heavier than Venom, Bathory and Mercyful Fate all put together. As if that wasn’t enough of a selling point on its own, the local preacher came to our high school to warn us not to listen to Capra Coven. He said they were Satanists and would corrupt our innocent young minds. So like pretty much every other kid crammed into that gymnasium, my reaction was sign me up! I can’t wait to listen to it. I stare at the drawing of a severed goat head decorating album cover, then slip the black record out of its sleeve, place it on my turntable and drop the needle. The black vinyl spins and the needle traces its way through the grooves, but no music comes out. Instead a blood red finger reaches out from the twirli...

Music of the Dead By Matthew Wilson Mom didn’t want me to go to the concert, not after the murders but I was fourteen now and had sold my comics to afford the ticket.      The old bat was uncool, so I waited till her bedroom light went off before I clambered down the drain pipe like a clumsy monkey and kept to the shadows along the lawn. At school tomorrow I would be the cool kid who'd listen to the rock god live.      Hell, I would say we'd become best friends if it made me more popular.      The armed guard at the gate looked ready to throw me off a cliff as if my ticket were made of crayon streaked paper but I smiled and bided my time and reluctantly he stepped aside. The crypt of Shadows came on stage with their intestine string guitars at midnight. The pained howls of the crucified men around them were a fine backup chorus.      Beneath the ugly red stars the fle...