Unholy Trinity: The Dunwich Romance by Shawn M. Klimek
Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.
The Dunwich Heartthrob
The stranger lurked outside the clubhouse door wearing a hooded cloak, exposing only his hairy, goatish, albino, face. Eventually, he pushed open the door with a clammy hand, then lumbered through the gap. Conversations froze as those within, mostly women, connected his grotesquery to the source of a tormenting stench.
Before he could speak, he was interrupted by a lumpish woman with sloped eyes and a drooling, beaver-toothed pucker.
Pointing an accusing claw, she croaked, “Dunny, aintcha?”
“Yessum.”
“Wicked pissah! We need more men,” she said. “I’m Ingrid Clout.”
“Wilbur Whatley.”
“Welcome to the Dunwich Village Lonely Hearts Club, Willy!”
The Dunwich Passion
Ingrid reached both arms around the misshapen boy’s naked torso, his bony rib cage heaving with each grunting exertion. Digging her fingernails into his scaly back, she groaned in ecstasy.
“Oh, Wilbur,” she cried, staring passionately up into the sweaty, chinless face above her. “Whatever you’re doing to me down south, it’s driving me crazy!”
“Say again?”
Momentarily too preoccupied by his own appetites to make out her words, Wilber Whatley paused manoeuvring the lamprey-like tentacles extruding from his furry waist, only to trigger her protests.
“No, don’t stop!” she pleaded.
“Oh, okay,” he said, then resumed suckling her blood.
The Dunwich Dinner
“I hope your mother likes me,” Ingrid Clout whispered as they arrived at the Whatley home.
“Dinner was her idea,” Wilbur reassured her.
The front door opened to reveal a woman shrouded in black.
Ingrid recoiled. “Has someone died?”
“No. The sun hurts her skin,” Wilbur explained. “We all suffer. Especially my brother. He never leaves the basement.”
“Poor thing.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll dine downstairs. This way,” said Lavinia.
Ingrid followed. “Nice place. A bit dark.”
“We’re here. Watch your stop,” said Lavinia, giving her a shove.
Her screams faded quickly.
“Mother!” Wilbur was inconsolable. “You know Yog doesn’t share!”
End
Shawn M. Klimek
Shawn M. Klimek is the multi-genre author of more than 240 stories and poems in more than 80 anthologies and e-zines, including previous Unholy Trinities in Horror Tree. He is also the solo author of Hungry Thing an illustrated fantasy saga told in poems.
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Originally from New Orleans, Shalini grew up with a love for the hauntingly beautiful stories, ideas and folklore that were enmeshed with the city. She also developed a deep love for words and a well-told story. Anytime those two can marry, she’s there for it. She loves stories that lure, that haunt, that pull at heartstrings or that wrap one up in fear, anxious to know what’s going to happen next.
