#khoma

[filmescapism]

#19

[scurybooween]

Pannochka and Khoma Brutus from the Soviet movie “Viy” (1967) based on a horror novel written by Nikolai Gogol 👁👁

Pannochka , 4rd piece of the  Carousel series

Sveta Has // Sveta Shubina  

[akzel]

Noisia & Former - Pleasure Model It’s been on repeat for the past few days, and now they have a fancy new video for it.

[angola-musicas23]

Mr. Bow - Khoma (feat. Az Khinera & Helio Beatz)

Mr. Bow - Khoma (feat. Az Khinera & Helio Beatz)

[annoyinglyoptimisticcompute-blog]

χαμαί & χῶμα

χᾰμαί • (khămaí)

on the earth, near the ground

to the earth/ground

χῶμᾰ • (khômă) 

earth thrown up, a bank, mound

dike, dam

mole (massive structure used as a pier or breakwater), pier

sepulchral mound

[sumonmax]

রহমত ও ক্ষমা প্রার্থনার দোয়া 🤲Dua for Mercy and Forgiveness #shorts

[honestlypurplechaos]

[duesnovel-blog]

proem: The Guillotine

A misty street, unlit; midnight thereabouts. In the silence that hefted, the low grunts of the undead could be spied.

    The rip, a mauve luminescence against tiny globs of black, opened and closed at the edge of Feregal Woods. It was a cut between worlds, from which gray-skinned Emeric, an underworld lord and watchman, emerged and slunk humanside for the first time.

    Emeric felt the chaos up here. He could smell it. Death was no longer a natural consequence but an infestation, hedonistic, and far from finished.

    From the hilltop, Emeric discerned the northern city of Silay where the plague was hatched. The new illegitimate kingdom nested there, far off but marked by thunderheads that glowed ruby under the moonlight.

    The field that stretched below him was spattered in zombie. Their numbers grew where the grass ended and the desolate suburbs began, shadowy figures that limped about, groaned, and moved aimlessly under the blanket of night.

    Emeric opened his deific senses for a moment and beheld the damned.  There were so many of them. The silver glinting of their souls, imprisoned in their mindless shells, yielded to his sight. His demi-god ears could hear their screams, their boundless agony and their volatile rage. In time their bodies would rot but retain enough flesh to linger on the mortal coil, preventing new souls to enter the underworld and thus diminishing the power of the realm. It was an irreverent insult to the natural order, which made Emeric wince, revolted at the state of it. The genius of the plan was in its folly, as avante garde as evil could get.

    “Thane.” Emeric clenched his jaw, stunned with certitude that the prince was a fiend and must be stopped. Like the wayward royal, Emeric’s mother was mortal, allowing him passage to the realm that Lord Sitan could only visit through dreams. Yet unlike the prince, he couldn’t remain long in the surface. Not under these conditions; he wouldn’t be able to stand it. He was only here to do a job, to release the underworld’s most ancient weapons that could destroy Thane’s devices and prevent an all-out war.

    The empire had been late in taking the menace seriously. Gods were proud and stubborn to begin with. Also, this wasn’t Thane’s first attempt to usurp his father’s kingdom; no one in the hidden court believed it would be any different. But the infection held, far longer and more effective than the plagues devised in the past. The underworld finally had reason for alarm. Lord Sitan grudgingly accepted that an actual threat to his sovereignty existed. For the first time in its uncontested history, an air of fear crept close to the throne.

    Thane’s generals were scattered around the world, and what occurred in those regions wasn’t so different from what took place in Silay. It had only taken a few hours to decimate the city. After two weeks, the pestilence all but gagged the island of Viviente. The first wave was swift, spreading before humans could fully organize. Even some with the most sophisticated weapons fell under the surge during the infection’s earliest days. In the weeks that followed, a few strongholds were established, but for each of them survival was never more than a finicky companion. Thane’s generals were just as ruthless as their master, perhaps more. It was only a matter of time before they culled the survivors.

    Emeric adjusted his cloak. From the claws of his necklace he pulled out the lachrymatory, uncapped it and poured. He watched the incandescent liquid float, water from the five rivers that carried tidings and armaments, roiling as one.

    “Go,” he commanded. “Fulfill our retribution.”

    The water brightened, flowed upward, honed, then separated into five filaments that shot out into the night. Five stones against a giant, his generals and an army. The fate of hell rested on their shoulders now.