Showcasing 20th century print advertising and pop culture curiosities. Specialities: toys, fashion, comic books, movies and art. One of the most comprehensive archives you'll find on the net. Established 2011.
Letter addressed to the Wisborg branch of Herr Sargmacher & Sons, Fine German Coffin Manufacturers, January, 1838.
Dear Herr Sargmacher,
I am writing on behalf of a friend to ask if you might, by perchance, be able to supply a specialist coffin?
Length-wise you will be looking to accommodate a cadavar of approximately 6 feet 4 inches (1.92 m) tall, and with sufficient elbow room to allow for exceptionally long arms.
The lining must be of your finest red velvet, with the casing constructed of your sturdiest wood, and with a lid which may be opened and closed with minimal effort.
It is desirable that the coffin can stand upright as well as be laid flat.
As I say, asking for a friend,
Yours sincerely,
Count Orlok,
Transylvania.
Asking for a friend… written by Ford Waight for Six Sentence Stories: a weekly writers’ challenge hosted by Denise at Girlie on the Edgeblog. This week’s cue word is BRANCH.
Digital art by Ford with images from the 1922 film Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (German: Nosferatu – Eine Symphonie des Grauens) directed by FW Murnau and produced by Prana Film.
TVTA & Atomic Mage Editor, Ford Waight. There’s a wasp? Where?
I’m linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge Blog, where she hostsSix Sentence Stories, and everyone is invited to write a story, article or poem constructed of six sentences based on a cue word given.
This week’s cue word is Field
warning: contains vampire lust
Diary of a Weekend Vampire
I
Suzy trimmed my hair on Monday after work when it was dark
(I’ve promised her a book of poems and picnic in the park)
She cut her index finger on the edge of her scissors
And I gave a little snigger as I watched her in the mirror
Run into the kitchen searching for Elastoplast
And it got me set to thinking that nothing ever lasts
And roses that are red to her to me always turn black.
II
On Tuesday I was stuck in traffic and very late for work
Some scoundrel driver cut me up and made me go berserk
I fantasised about his neck and drinking road rage blood
Then at the perfect moment as he was just about to turn
I’d slash an artery here or there and leave him for the worms
Rotting in a field in the English countryside
Good for him I wasn’t on duty and only work part-time.
III
On Wednesday Alicia from accounts did my Tarot cards
She said she learnt them from a man who was a Russian Tsar
I played her up and drew for fun ol’ Death and The Hanged Man
And she rattled on ‘bout new beginnings and being the best you can
How my chakras needed aligning and my aura looked like mud
And all the while I was thinking I’d like to suck her blood
But Wednesday’s only half the week and I’m meant to be good.
IV
Thursday after work I volunteered at the skate park
The kids there think I’m very cool and call me Mrs Sharp
Or Northern Vamp in Aviators, Vans and skinny jeans
With links to Bauhaus, SoM and Siouxsie And the Banshees,
And I tell ’em go listen to the Cure’s Carnage Visors
While flashing them my fingernails and sexy incisors
Yeah, I know it’s cool to be a kid – as I once was before being bit.
V
Thank Fuck It’s Friday for I was horny as hell
Was dress-down-day at work and Alicia sure looked swell:
Alicia in black stockings and an off-the-shoulder number
And thoughts of gorging on her neck stirred me from my slumber
And after knocking off at four I met her in the pub
Should never mix my Gin and Tonic with my colleagues’ blood
Coz around midnight later on, Alicia was supped up.
VI
Saturday I woke up late with an epic hangover
Virgin blood and toasted bread, a nice refreshing shower
Then at the discotheque that night I spied my vamps-to-be
Gave invitations to my castle overlooking the sea:
A beauty queen, a nurse from Leeds, a cosplay Wolverine
Sacred rites, blood and lust all night… yes Saturday is the best!
Then precious sleep in ancient caskets, for Sunday is our day of rest.
***
***
***
***
Dedicated to weekend vampires the world over.
Poem and art card by Ford.
Editor’s note: disclosure – normally my Six Sentence Stories are written on demand subject to inspiration found from the weekly cue word. However, my poem Diary of a Weekend Vampire has been sitting in the Six Sentence Story reception area for more than a month, its impatient author waiting for our wonderful word mistress D to unleash a cue word applicable to my, erm, vampire urges, and all fine and dandy and in time for Halloween 😁 🎃
But time passed, and the cue words wouldn’t marry the spirit of my vampiric tale, and before I knew it we were almost halfway through October. Could I risk waiting for the following week’s cue word? Or worse, risk it with the last date in October? Not on your holy water! It had to be this week’s Six Sentence Story, or my protagonist lady vamp Mrs Sharp might be consigned to the perils of next October.
So, this Sunday, came the announcement of the cue word… and it was… wait for it, hah, oh, wait, what… Field. Umm?!? How do I fit part-time vampire lust into a field? Or a field into part-time vampire lust? It seemed our fearless word mistress D had delivered to your humble editor a deadly word-blow – akin to a stake through the heart at midnight while the coffin was still warm.
What could I do? Who could I turn to? Nothing at my Writing & Bakery School classes (micro stories while making tarts) had prepared me for this; nor were there any chapters devoted to my dilemma in the 1001 Ways To Get Your Sorry Ass Out Of Writing Trouble which Wooof bought me last Christmas; and my clandestine seances with the spirits of Edgar Allan Poe, Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker (The Three Dead Literary Spooks and a Rubbish Living Writer Society) garnered no advice nor wisdom other than: “Don’t give up the day job, mate, and can you get us any laudanum?”.
Only one thing for it… the word field simply had to fit! Somewhere, anywhere, even if it didn’t make sense! Well, luckily it did, in a way. And you know, on reflection, the word field ended up stamping itself with some authority inside the swaggering sentence: “Rotting in a field in the English countryside”. I really like that line. It also sums up Brexit quite nicely. Fuck you, Brexit.
I’m glad now that it was field as the cue word; and this is the beauty of Six Sentence Stories – you have to work with what is given, and this is not a constraint really but a liberation. And I love it. And I love our word chooser D for taking time each week to challenge us all ♥. If you enjoy writing, then come on over to Six Sentence Stories and try your craft. We’re a lovely bunch here, and we don’t bite (apart from the part-time vampires among us 😉)
I’m linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge Blog, where she hosts Six Sentence Stories, and everyone is invited to write a story or poem constructed of six sentences, and six sentences only, based on a cue word given. This week’s cue word is Noise.
Comtesse Marie-Paule and the Ancient Menace
The noise began as a SCREAM, then pitiful groans, soft whimpers, lastly a hollow silence before the tools of Comtesse Marie-Paule set to work making noises of their own: hack, chop, grind, slice, rend; noises which leeched into the downstairs quarters of the lodge, where Emilio stared grimly at the rafters and said to Lucianne, “What’s she doing up there?”
“She’s making sure,” Lucianne said evenly, her old, grey eyes not daring to shift from the lodge door and the yet banished possibility of minions charging in to avenge a slain two-thousand year old master.
Upstairs, the noises persisted: thump, slop, splat, burst, spatter – and a reek pervaded the lodge like a creeping mist clad in the robes of all fevers, plague, leprosy, and rotting bodies strewn about fields of military campaigns.
Comtesse Marie-Paule closed the door upstairs, and clopped down the steps to meet her two servants, and she gave to Emilio her wrap of tools, bloodied, wet and stinking, as was her cloak, her chains and crosses and pale skin, and she said to him, “Clean them.”
“You took your time, Comtesse,” Lucianne said to her mistress.
Marie-Paule gave a knowing smile and said, “These ancient vampyrs… you know… such tough meat to cut while abroad… unlike the tender, young ones we always find at home.”
Dracula N°6. 1983. Sweden/Finland.
I Vampire N°308. 1982. US.
Thank you for assisting us with an ancient menace! 🧛♂️🦇
Superman N°12 1987. Cover by Arthur Adams and Dick Giordano. DC Sweden/Finland.
Greetings vintage mates! In my ongoing endeavour to gather a digital archive of international advertising, catalogues, posters and comic covers, The Vintage Toy Advertiser is pleased to post today some wonderful examples from Sweden and Finland. Välkommen!
Adding to an already impressive world map featuring France, UK, US, Denmark, Italy, Spain, Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, Greece, Japan and Brazil… the following titles from the 1970s and 80s were aimed at a Finnish and Swedish readership, and feature Superman – (Stålmannen in Swedish), Batman – (Läderlappen),Dracula, Tarzan, The Incredible Hulk, Daredevil (Våghalsen), and Spider-Man (Spindelmannen).
Enjoy the scans! Or as they may say in Swedish, Njut av skanningarna!
Super fart! Let’s save the Superman fart joke for last! Super-Fart = Super Speed. Super-Spänning = Super-Voltage. Super-Tuff = Super-Tough!
Super Fart Superman! 1978. Sweden/Finland.
Tarzan
Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan N°14 1977. Cover by Joe Kubert. Sweden/Finland.
Tarzan. 1977. Sweden/Finland.
Tarzan’s Son. 1977 Sweden/Finland.
Tarzan. 1977 Sweden/Finland.
Hulk, Spider-Man, Daredevil
Hulk N°2 1984. Marvel Sweden/Finland.
Hulk. 1984. Marvel Sweden/Finland.
Hulk. 1983. Marvel Sweden/Finland.
Spider-Man. 1984. Marvel Sweden/Finland.
Daredevil. 1982. Marvel Sweden/Finland.
As always, thanks for looking 🙂 Coming soon… yet another international debut at The Vintage Toy Advertiser! (clue – you won’t have to read upside down!)
The Vintage Toy Advertiser 