Sunday, September 27, 2009



Halloween is almost near;
Ghosts and goblins will soon appear!

To your doorstep they draw near;
A rapping and tapping with devious cheer!

But do not fret,
Do not fear.

That's what the candy is for, my dear!

Illustration :  Xane Dravor
Poem:  Dane Dravor

Hope you like them!  Just a little something for the
upcoming holiday!

Xane and Dane

Monday, September 14, 2009

Zombie Kittie!

Some of you have met Zombo, our zombie clown. Yes, the bites will heal and no he doesn't seem to be contagious. Ahem, after creating Zombo we thought he needed a friend. A pet. Hell someone that the smell of him wouldn't run off. So we came up with Zombie Kittie. Why a kittie? Well that's what was on the road that day. We just scooped him up, put his bits where we thought they looked nice and reanimated his butt. Things seem to have worked out nicely.

If you'd like to see more zombie type peoples and pets, let us know! Go look at our listings on Artfire and order one of your own! I LOVE to make up custom pieces. Zombie squid? Undead school teacher? You want it, you got it! Be the first to order a specific type of zombie and YOU, yes, YOU, get to name the design!

Come on zombie friends, creating things that should never see the light of day is fun! See for yourself at House Morbid on ARTFIRE

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Steampunk Airship Pirate/Captain Talisman

I Just added this new piece to my Artfire shop. I have a few more I will be adding soon. These bottles are meant to hold captain's oil. A glow in the dark elixir of my own creation that helps keep the ship airborne and the captain always on strong winds that will carry them to their destination safely. (These pieces can also be left empty or filled with whatever the ordering captain/pirate wants to have inside their talisman)

Steampunk is a great inspiration for me and a lot of my newer pieces.

This picture shows the colors off better.

This is my artfire listing for this piece
Steampunk Airship Talisman

More pieces to come soon!


Steampunk Airship Pirate Talisman Copyright HouseMorbid 2009

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

The Hanging Ghost

Welcome again my darklings! I apologies for being a little late in getting this weeks tale up for you but we’ve been in a bit of a rush in the crypt preparing to haunt another state for a few days, but I suppose when your dead time is a relative thing. This week’s spine tingling tale is from one of our local haunts and has more than it’s share of hauntings to scream about. So turn down those lights and get comfy in those coffins for, “The Hanging Ghost”.

The German farmer’s daughter carefully planned her wedding. Hannah kept her plans a secret, though, while her beloved built a home for them to share. When the house was complete, he would ask her father for permission to marry.
The farmer, land-hungry and greedy, had other ideas. Since settling in the backwoods of Rowan County, he’d purchased as much land as he possibly could. He coveted the farm next to his. Acquiring this property would add many acers to his holdings.
The neighboring farm was owned by an old widower who needed a strong young woman to help him with the work. The two farmers worked out a deal – a marriage between the widower and the daughter. The wedding would take place after the banns had been posted at the church for three weeks.
“No! I won’t do it!” Hannah shouted. “I won’t marry a man I don’t love, just so you can have more land.”
“You’ll marry who I say,” her father commanded.
“I won’t,” Hannah said. “I’ll run away first.”
Her father sneered, “We’ll see about that.” He locked Hannah in her room. Until she agreed to the marriage, she would be a prisoner. Meals would be delivered to her, but she could not leave her bedroom.
Hannah cried for days, and kept refusing to marry the old widower. Her father did not relent, and Hannah, unable to send word to her true love, finally realized the she would have to agree to the marriage.
The day before the wedding, Hannah told her father of her decision. “But,” she said, “you will regret this for as long as you live.”
That night, feeling victorious and dreaming of a lucrative future, the farmer did not lock Hannah’s bedroom door.
During the night, the farmer was awakened by the sound of barn doors opening and slamming shut. “The wind must be fierce,” he thought, “to force open those doors.” He grabbed a lantern and ran outside, expecting to be met by a major storm.
There was no storm, no wind. There was not even a breeze. He rushed to the barn, where the doors were madly flapping back and forth for no apparent reason. Then he saw a light, a strange, wavering light, reaching from deep inside the barn. The farmer raised his lantern and slowly entered. There, swinging in the slow circles, surrounded by an eerie glow, was the body of his daughter, hanging from the rafters. Hannah preferred death to a loveless marriage.
The next day, instead of a wedding, there was a funeral at the church.
It was a terrible loss, and the farmer regretted his greed. Neighbors refused to speak to him, and his crops failed. The well went dry. After nearly a year, things got better for the farmer. His crops grew and a new well brought fresh water. Even the neighbors seemed to forgive, or forget.
Except Hannah would not be forgotten. On the anniversary of her death, the farmer was awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of barn doors slamming. The strange light again appeared. In the barn, the farmer could hear the creaking of the rafters, just as he’d heard on that fateful night.
These events continued year after year, always on the anniversary of Hannah’s death. Finally, the farmer tore down the barn. He burned all of the wood to ashes. He buried the nails throughout the forest. He pried the foundation stones from the ground and placed them so that none of the stones touched another.
Even that didn’t quiet Hannah. To this day, she makes her story known, announcing her father’s greed and guilt to anyone who will listen.
An elderly woman’s desire for privacy keeps me from disclosing the exact location, but if you’re in eastern Rowan County in late October, you might hear the sound of barn doors slamming. If you investigate closely, you may see an eerie light. If you move close enough to the light, you could feel a slight breeze stirring, as if a young girl’s body were swaying back and forth, back and forth, on the end of a rope.

We hope you enjoyed this little telling of poor Miss Hannah’s plight and hope you’ll swing by for the next installment! Until next time…

Xane and Dane Dravor

Stories taken from: Ghost Tales From The North Carolina Piedmont. Collected and retold by Linda Duck Tanenbaum & Barry McGee.

ISBN 1-878177-13-3