The Rock N' Roll Horror Zine

The Riffmaster General by Ben Fitts Lilith trembled as she plugged her Gibson Explorer into the massive Orange stack on the stage. Of course, her guitar wasn’t really made by Gibson and the amplifier wasn’t really made by Orange. They were just clones of the original brands. It was possible that those companies still existed back on Earth, but Lilith thought it was unlikely. Ever since the United Nations Of Earth ordered the exile of all metalheads from the planet, citing their presence as a danger to religious freedom and Christian values, the gear manufacturers must have been hit pretty hard. Lilith thought Fender was probably fine, though. The decision had no impact on indie rock bands or country singers. Everyone from the village was there watching her, sitting solemnly in their ceremonial patch jackets and bullet belts. She was able to make out her parents in the dim blue light shining on the audience. They sat front and center by the stage, as was customary fo...

A Host Without An Audience by Micah Castle Am I live? The digital readout says it’s working, generator’s half-full… Ah… Yes, I’m live. Hello to the listeners who can still understand me! Ah, shit , hold on… Have to… turn up speakers… Wish I could see how much battery is left, doesn’t matter… Just have to make sure I can’t hear that damn song… Okay, okay… Ah, Tchaikovsky, can’t get enough. Sorry, I’m back and ready. I’ve spoken to you before about my life: my flat, my pets, my childhood and parents — everything that I once had but now stolen, destroyed by the disease, that song… But today, I’m going to talk about history… Now, you might be thinking actual history, like the World Wars or the Cold War or Russia and Germany and Japan and— no, nothing of the sort. I’m going to be talking about recent history, the origins of that damn song that caused it all, the song that pours from seemingly every radio in the world, from every tele, from every goddamn iPod from...

That Time I Hung Out With Warrant by Frank Edler I lived some prime years of my life through the decadent age of hard rock and heavy metal that dominated the music landscape in the 1980's. It was an incredible time. The music was loud, the clothing was loud and the hair went all the way to 11. Anything worth doing was worth overdoing. I followed those bands with the big hair and the black leather and the flashy guitars like they were a religion. I bought the rock magazines and studied the articles. I tore the glossy photos from the rags and plastered the walls of my bedroom with them. I bought cheap mall knockoff rock star clothing and frequented every local music store dreaming of the day I would be able to afford a sexy looking $700 guitar that would make women melt without even playing a single note. My dedication to the music, the bands and the scene led me on many great adventures. I frequently sought out the bands when they were in town. I would stalk thei...