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About Deviant Joseph BashawUnknown Group :iconworld-of-zothique: World-Of-Zothique
 
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Literature
Journey to the West

illustration by KingOvRats
    The sun rose behind five travelers on a wide open expanse. Sanzang, a young and smooth-skinned monk from China, rode wearily on the back of his magnificent white dragon-horse, led by the furry tail of his eldest disciple, Monkey, who walked with an impatient hop every other step. Following behind was the disciple Pigsy, whose broad snout, large ears, and fat forehead were dripping with sweat, and following behind him was the disciple Sandy, whose coarse features bore the single-minded determination of a shark, always staring ahead as he carried the group's luggage. Through deserts, forests, mountains, and swamps did they travel, and through heat, rain, snow, and wind did they endure. The gravest of perils and the passage of years could not dissuade their westward journey, for it was their emboldened will to see their pilgrimage to its end.
    In his pious devotion, Sanzang a
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Literature
The Dead Witch
    I present to you an old skazka, or Russian folk tale, adapted by myself, a non-Russian. Due to the fundamental differences between literature and oral tradition, a few alterations have been made to the story, though the plot remains exactly the same. I hope this strange tale is enjoyable to you, and also that it inspires you to investigate a little Slavic culture and folklore.
    In a small village, there lived an old wise woman. All of the villagers consulted her in matters of healing and spells of good fortune, for she was the best at what she did. By her remarkable knowledge, by her well of ancient wisdom glimmering deep within her wily grey eyes, she guaranteed the village good crops, healthy animals, and fair weather, and removed curses from the victims of unclean spirits, with a proper payment of chickens, eggs, or vodka, of course. The old woman was no saint; she offered her services like anyone else with a useful skill or ta
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Literature
Horizons
A black swan flew behind the sun, shrouding it with pinions dark and unfurled before vanishing into the blue aether beyond. For but a cosmic moment the world flickered, and it was then that a great centaur, black as the all-encompassing shadow, emerged from the bowels of earth and took flight. On Hesperian fields he galloped, power coursing through his legs and into the ground he trampled, roaring like subterranean thunder many miles about. The whipping winds revealed a star-bright gaze beneath tangled locks, set madly upon the unimpeded horizon to which he flew. In his wake, mortals thought him a storm or tremor, prayed to their gods or crossed their hearts, and only a scant few could perceive the hooves in motion, demonic horns aloft, and monstrous arms upraised in passionate want.
And so he charged forth, past Araby and Cathay; past Atlantis and Mu; past R'lyeh and Yondo, satisfied not with any bounds of recent knowledge. He lept from mountain to towering mountain, from cloud to far
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Literature
The Gargoyle
I had no face, yet I could see. From the black pit which was my home, I saw a flaring white angel in the dark heavens above. Never before did I realize there could be an above or a below, but when I saw the beams of the angel tunneling toward me through the dark, it suddenly made sense. The angel spoke no words, yet I could feel its ethereal call, beckoning my soul to it. It only occurred to me then that I had a soul, and that it was deep inside me and a wholly separate thing from me, and that it wanted out.
Then I realized I had a body, and that this body was not me just as my soul was not me, and yet both were woven into my being at that moment, for my body, too, wanted out, and as a result my mind was made manifest with thoughts, and sought ways to escape the pit.
The beams of the angel illuminated strange shapes all around me. I could just barely perceive that these shapes were faces, each one different but all of them leering and grinning upon me. It was only then that I, my
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Literature
The Wonderful Throne
    Long ago, in the land of Mmar, there stood a wondrous city called Yarkand. With its golden domes and colorful marble, it was renowned as an opulent crown of that grey mountain region. Its citizens lived long and prosperous lives, for they were always gifted with mineral wealth from the earth. As a result, they dedicated much of their time to the arts, constructing some of the finest wonders in all the world, and of these wonders, none were greater than the throne of King Gyur, fashioned from a meteor of unknown substance which fell from the stars one fateful night. This throne was as a constellation festooned with brightly-colored nebulae, filling the hall with sidereal splendor. So grateful was the king that he sang hymns in honor of the divine seat, and the whole of the city sang with him, and all the region of Mmar. However, for reasons which vary among accounts – greed in some and malevolent spirits in others – King Gyur went mad for his throne and transfo
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Literature
The Firebird
    It is told that beyond the Sea of Being there stands a shadowy castle, shrouded by the wavering mists of mystique. Within it dwell the illustrious Archetypes, They who govern man's destiny and shape darkness into substance. Their abode is thought to be the end of the world, but beyond that there spans the mysterious wastes, wherein silent night reigns supreme and wherein shapeless demons form and unform ceaselessly. Beyond those wastes, there is a deep vale through which a nameless river flows, and a great tree it has fed since ages immemorial. This tree glimmers softy, for it bears in its arms the seeds of life, which fall into the nameless river and are swept into the distant Sea to be distributed across the world. For this, The Archetypes call it the World Tree, though They know nothing else about it. Within the tree there nests a majestic bird, whose feathers are plumes of varicolored flame, whose beak and talons are as the twinkling of moonlit steel, and wh
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Literature
Candle Wax Familiar
    "This is no ordinary candle," said the old witch when I questioned the extortionate price of the candle displayed at her window. "Nor is it a tool for mere conjuring tricks. It is a light with which to guide you through impenetrable darkness to that which you desire most. Careful with it! It is exceedingly rare! Others in my circle guess that candles of its make were produced many aeons ago in lands best forgotten, where chaos and darkness reigned as chief deities."
    Cautiously I turned the candle in my hands. It was tall and crimson red, decorated with black sigils so alien in form they seemed to me a language of antiquary devils. Taking in the witch's rambling, I was most intrigued by one detail: the achievement of that which I desired most. I asked her how to use this candle, and to my surprise the instructions were quite simple.
    "Fill a jar with as many bones of vermin as you can gather, then position the candle within the jar
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Literature
The Doom of Mulazul
    In his dark tower beyond a haunted wasteland, Idluk peered into a crystal eye. Clutched within both hands, it shone in its prismatic pupil all that occurred in Zermagad. The young magician could spy upon his neighbors the savage tribesmen, or the machinations of rival sorcerers, or the activities of the demons of the desert, invisible to mortal eyes but not to the clairvoyance of the crystal eye. It was gifted to him long ago by his infernal masters, for all sorcerers held power over man but were indebted to the children of Lilith, Queen of Impenetrable Night, and Idluk served them especially well.
    What he saw within the eye astonished him to no end. Crossing the black desert, beneath the chilling gaze of a bone-white sun, was his greatest enemy: the necromancer Mulazul. More powerful and more feared than any sorcerer, he oppressed the savage tribes and lesser magicians with maladies of his making. Bound to his command were the souls claimed b
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Literature
Reminiscence of the Unknown
    The dreams of Philip Cambern stirred in his sleep. With a sudden shift of thought, the mist of his fancies dissipated, and there came from some unknown depth a piercing radiance. Philip was awakened by this powerful light. Not into his bedroom in his small, dark apartment, but into a realm which had been locked away from conscious thought. The light rejuvenated him, and it changed him greatly, until finally he no longer remembered the apartment or the dull city he spent all his days trapped within. He was native to a different milieu now, one which was revealed when his eyes acclimated to the brilliance around him. There were no walls, no concrete, no skies choked with pollution. There were only green hills in a boundless expanse, out of which sprung golden trees sighing softly in the wind. He saw flowers of magnificent shapes and colors, whose petals blew through the air like exotic butterflies, fluttering onto the surfaces of calm streams which murmured secrets from dis
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Literature
Night's Castle
    Jacob Carnegie returned to his humble home after a full day's work. He dressed into comfortable clothes, ate a simple meal, and read a book he only partially felt any interest in. He couldn't afford much. Not enough to travel, not enough to partake in old childhood dreams. His needs and responsibilities fit squarely into the city which was essentially his whole world. Although he could imagine other worlds, he could never truly experience them as he once had in his childhood fancy. This disappointed him to some extent, but because his life was simple he never complained about it. After finishing his book, he went to bed knowing he had another full day's work ahead of him. Perhaps his waking life was dull, he thought, but he could always rely on his dream life to excite his dim imagination. Jacob then closed his eyes and was Jacob no more.
    Aru the thief awoke from his troubled sleep to the familiar setting of his pitched tent home. Once again he had
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Literature
A Taste of Pale Flesh
    A body? From the ocean you say? Not human or animal? Cast it away, boy, cast it away! Get the other boys and paddle it out to sea and let it be swept far away from here! If it is not human or animal, then it is a god or a devil, and its flesh must never come near our village! I don't care how hungry you all are. Better to starve and fight to the end of your life than to devour the flesh of something which does not belong in this world!
    I've seen this happen before, young ones. I've seen it many ages ago in my old village, when my skin wasn't wrinkled, when I was only a young girl. My village was near the sea too, just like this one. Long ago my ancestors cleared away all of the island's vegetation to create the idols we prayed to; the stone-faced gods of the hills. As a result we had to gather all our food from the sea, but that was fine. There were plenty of fish and plants in the water.
    One day, after a fierce storm, a lar
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Joseph Bashaw
"Formerly I had been the slave of a horde of fantastic impressions and visions, and often I could not say whether they were feelings or ideas. Now I suddenly found I was lord and master in my own kingdom."

–Gustav Meyrink's "The Golem"

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:iconzlzf33:
zLzF33 Featured By Owner May 28, 2018  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Joe, saw this on a SwordsofREH and was reminded of your stories:

horrortree.com/taking-submissi…
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(1 Reply)
:iconursumeles:
Ursumeles Featured By Owner May 11, 2018
Joe, do you know if any mythology, or some recent folklore, mentions magical bibliothecs, or something similar?
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(1 Reply)
:iconoffermoord:
offermoord Featured By Owner Mar 10, 2018
Thanks Joe :)
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(1 Reply)
:iconchamjari:
Chamjari Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2018   General Artist
Thanks Joe^^
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:icondoctorchevlong:
DoctorChevlong Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2018  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks a lot for faving my Myrmidon :D !
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