Sticks and Stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me
Inspired by the very existence of something wicked, something incarnate and drawings and art of the horror genre, using Vera Petruk’s awesome vision we bring you the latest in the series of beyond the hill…
Stacking the skulls so high they block out the light, in putrid green detail, the blank eyes and enamel smiles are hiding a secret.
There’s no alter to pray at; no absolution or judgement, just damnation filling in those eternal gazes. Sockets and joints are brittle to touch, the skin has long rotted away, the dead branches point the way to an open circle. A monument of twisted bones sits in the centre, like a pyre, ready for the ignition, it waits its latest member.
Upon the graves stones names are etched, dates are blurred, no one and nothing is familiar, strangers lay in their graves, toes point up and fingers crossed.
The catalyst awakes, eyes burning red.
Light the match and watch the green smoke fill the air.
Here’s to you my sticks and bones!
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Garrow Hill: The Blacklist of Heavy Metal 