Tales of Terror

THE  Laboratory  of  Hallucinations 

The  wife  of  Dr. Gorlitz, a mad surgeon,  tries  to  flee  her  husband.  However,  Gorlitz operates  on  her  lover, putting  him  in  a  zombie-like  state.  At the  climax,  he  overpowers the  doctor  and  begins  to  operate  on him.


The  Man  Who  Killed  Death.

A scientist  revives  the  decapitated  head  of  a  man  guillotined for  murder.  His  attorney,  still  unsure  of  the  man’s  innocence,  asks  the  head if it  was guilty.  The  head  continuously  screams  NO ! as the  attorney  is driven  insane.






I would  just  like  to  take  the  time  to  say  thank you  to  everyone  in right wing organisations and who are constantly fighting the evils of multiculturalism, diversity and political correctness. If our children are to stand any chance of living in a free society, we must all come together and stand up and be counted. 


Anne Askew (1521-1546) was a Protestant martyr, she was the second daughter of Sir William Askew, a knight, who is generally stated to be from Kelsey in Lincolnshire. But according to family and local tradition she was born at Stallingborough, near Grimsby, where the site of her father’s house is still pointed out. The Askews were an old Lincolnshire family, and the conciousness of this fact may have had something to do with the formation of Anne’s character. She was highly educated and much devoted to biblical study. When she stayed at Lincoln she was seen daily in the Cathedral reading the Bible and engaging the clergy in discussions on the meaning of particular texts. According to one account she was superior to them all in argument, and those who wished to answer her commonly retired without a word.2017-07-142019.54.24


Your  ancestors  did  not  survive everything  that  nearly  ended  them for  you  to  shrink  yourself  to  make  someone  else  comfortable

The  sacrifice  is  your  war cry , be  loud, be  everything  and  make  them  proud


Nikita  Gill


King Robert of Sicily

32191719_101904924021542_5396361742949285888_nRobert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane

And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine,

Despoiled of his magnificent attire,

Bareheaded, breathless, and besprent with mire,

With sense of wrong and outrage desperate,

Strode on and thundered at the palace gate;

Rushed through the courtyard, thrusting in his rage

To right and left each seneschal and page,

And hurried up the broad and sounding stair,

His white face ghastly in the torches’ glare.

King Robert crossed both hands upon his breast,

And meekly answered him: “Thou knowest best!

My sins as scarlet are; let me go hence,

And in some cloister’s school of penitence,

Across those stones, that pave the way to heaven,

Walk barefoot, till my guilty soul be shriven!

A Song of the Hugenots

NOW glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are!

And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre!

Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,

Through thy corn-fields and sunny vines,O pleasant land of France!

And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters,

Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters.

As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy,

For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.

Hurrah! Hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war,

Hurrah! Hurrah! for Ivry and Henry of Navarre.