Dr. Chris McAuley is an acclaimed comic book and audio writer, artist and character creator for several major publishers. He is the co-author and creator of the StokerVerse with Dacre Stoker, which currently features six comic book ranges, several novels and various games in production. He is also a novelist whose reach has included The James Bond Franchise, Doctor Who and Alien.


I am never in control
of the visions that possess my soul
The glimmering darkness which is surrounded by the fire and flame
As it controls me, I know I can never be the same.
I watch as beings, twisted and grotesque
Dance and writhe to a tribal beat
I feel caged, in a prison and am unable to speak
I feel my conscience claw at my soul
As these creatures tear my siblings apart and swallow them whole.
Then leering, they open my cage
and gesture to me to share in their demonic rage
Warm flesh is offered to me from their rancid claws
As I am coerced into an unholy communion
My mind rages with terrible confusion
What is right for my psyche and soul
Should I embrace this madness or let these monsters swallow me whole?
My clothes are torn off and I stand sweating in my skin
Rancid lips kiss me
I finally commit to the ultimate sin  


When my soul slips into the void,
Remember me.
When I am gone into the eternal place of solitude
When you can no longer reach for my hand to hold
Or I can never again caress your face
Holding its beauty in my hand one last time.
Remember me.
When I can no more talk day by day of a planned future.
When the words of wisdom and foolishness comes close to your mind.
Or your eyes rest upon a well worn shirt or a book whose spine is creased and cover has been close to my touch.
Remember me.
But if at times you may forget me.
Just for a while.
Then if some cause gives you to remember again.
Do not grieve.
It is better that your thoughts moved on.
That you should smile.
Rather than be eternally sad by the lingering memory of me.


I stand at the platform.
Waiting impatiently for the train.
I am screaming inside.
My tortured mind is issuing long piercing howls.
I can’t control my hands as they ball into fists.
I raise them to my head.
The nightmares still continue however.

Beaten by my mother for failing the test at school.
Hounded by my boss for the final report.
Watching my wife’s smile as she leaves me.
My face burning as she touches the hand of my brother.

The platform begins to fill with people.
None of them can hear the screams which have been shaking my senses for the last three years.
Since I have left College, there has been no respite from them.
The voices manifest and echo in my mind.

Smiling gently at those around me.
I appear affable and polite.
My suit is pressed and my umbrella furled.
I have always been able to blend in.
My fellow travelers have no idea that within their midst.
Lurks a vicious killer.

This was to be my first murder.
I had resisted it for so long.
Attempting to drown the voices out with cheap whiskey and beer.
Tablets prescribed by doctors.
Expensive sex sold at street corners.

The train approaches and my mind reels.
Umbrellas unfurl and slanted mouths curse the ever-changing British climate.
I see a balding man in a green raincoat ahead of me.
He sneezes into a tissue.
The voices in my mind halt their cacophony as I made a decision.

I move closer to the man as the train approaches.
The tracks vibrate and a collective anticipation grows.
For some this signifies the reassurance of the journey home.
For one this will be their final destination.

The train makes its entrance.
Its gray frame seems like a bullet as it emerges from the tunnel.
Turning around the bend at terrific speed.
A feeling like needles pricking the back of my eye sockets.
The voices return.
The screaming in my mind begins again.
Images of past failings overwhelm me.

The train is hurtling into the station.
There is a sigh of disappointment from the platform.
This is not their train.
I smiled.
It was mine.

I suppress the urge to vomit as I move towards the man in front of me.
Fear and desire mix and I feel the thrashing of my stomach.
Closer I move to the green anorak.

My walking pace becomes a run.
I catch sight of the man’s shocked face as I move past him.
I am thinking of my wife and family as I pick up pace.

Moving faster than I had ever thought possible.
I am running for freedom.
Jumping onto the tracks, I hear the shocked expressions of those I leave behind.
At this, my end, I pray for darkness and peace.