The Saturni have been with us always, and they’ve been called by many names:  the Orphans, the Faceless Ones, sociopaths and nihilists.  Those who grab and gloat, those who consume and destroy.  Those who promise the world to the gullible and the greedy, the angry and the resentful, and then eat the lives and the souls of their subjects and just leave empty skins behind.

Don’t be fooled.  These beings aren’t you.  They aren’t like you.  They don’t play by your rules.  They don’t play by anybody’s rules but their own.

Fear them.

We began this site as a creative project featuring stories of the beings we called “The Saturni”…shape-shifting creatures of intergalactic ambitions and infernal appetites, whose goal was to eat the world.  We knew it was a sideshow with parallels to the real world, but we didn’t know how quickly and how completely the sideshow would overtake the whole carnival.

So now we begin again, with greater knowledge and blood on our lips from our own wounds.  We know what we’re up against now.  The Saturni are here.  Our stories, fantasies, romances, must have a greater weight now, a tensile strength to their gossamer dreams.

Don’t kid yourself.  This shit is real.

Stay tuned.


Written on April 1st, 2012

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    Paul Zahl commented

    Right now, at the very beginning,
    the words “wisdom and ancient hungers” — they have me completely entranced.
    Maybe enmeshed.
    I feel like “I’m into something good.” Very, very good.
    In fact, I know it.

    April 2, 2012 at 8:04 pm
    Joshua Clark commented

    Help! There’s Saturni all around me.

    April 3, 2012 at 2:55 pm
    Chris Wiltz commented

    Okay, I’m plenty scared, but it was worth it. This is all very cool!

    April 3, 2012 at 4:42 pm
    no spam commented

    Holy crap there’s a lot of no spam here…

    April 3, 2012 at 10:34 pm
    Lloydville commented

    This is freaking me out.

    April 5, 2012 at 1:09 am
    EE Norris commented

    HUMBUG!…On the other hand, there’s a guy across the street from us who’s just like this.

    April 14, 2012 at 8:53 pm
    Elma commented

    ever thought about writing a book someday?

    April 21, 2012 at 5:38 pm
    Buying Hemocyl commented

    Consuming the right amount of fiber and fluids outcome in softer, bulkier stools

    May 4, 2012 at 10:52 am
    Analisa Boulware commented

    Youre so cool! I dont suppose Ive read something like this before. So good to seek out anyone with some unique thoughts on this subject.Really. thanks for beginning this up. This website is something that is needed on the Internet, someone with originality.

    May 24, 2012 at 1:02 pm
    Paul Zahl commented

    Es ist ja vielleicht bemerkenswert,
    dass mein Grossenkel Dr. Wilhelm Gustav von Zahl, im spaeten19ten Jahrdundert ein wissenschaftlicher Forscher von den literarischen Arbeite A.P. Bowmans geworden ist. Viele von ihren Aufsaetze, von ihren Erzaehlungen, und auch von ihren Buechern hat er in dieser Zeitalter in Europa veroeffentlicht. Er war, man koennte gesagt haben, von ihren dunklen “Werke der Schatten” voellig “bedazzelt”.
    Leider — echt leider! — hat er in den letzten Jahren seines Lebens auch entdeckt, dass die Autorin “Adrienne Parks Bowman”
    nie und nimmer wirklich existiert hat! Es war alles ein Alptraum!
    Ganz entauescht kam Dr. Zahl ums Leben.
    Es war fuer meiner Familie ein sehr trauriges Kapitel unserer Familiengeschichte.
    Nach Dr. Zahls Tod kamen — es ist geschrieben — ungezaehmte Hunde, die sein Leib gefressen haben.
    Wir haben bis Heute keine Idee wo die Teile seines Leibes “beerdigt” sind — ob es einige davon gibt!
    Ein echt schreckliches Ende!
    Deshalb gebe ich Ihnen ALLE diese strenge Warnung:
    Haben sie mit den schrecklichen Erzaehlungen A.P. Bowmans NICHTS zu tun.
    Das ist mein letztes Wort.

    May 28, 2012 at 7:17 pm
    Lloydville commented

    In 1971, I passed through New Orleans on a trip across the country. It was during a horrifically hot and humid September, and strolling through the French Quarter I ducked into The Napoleon House for a cold beer. The place was dark — there was only one other customer, an old man sitting by himself at the bar. I sat down not too far from him, hoping to strike up a conversation, but before I could say anything he turned on me with a startling sort of vehemence and said, “Maeterlinck! “The Life Of the Bee”! Have you read it?” I stammered out that I had not and the man turned away from me in disgust. Then he turned back, with a milder expression. He took a small object out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was a Mardi Gras coin, of the sort tossed out to the crowds from the parade floats. “That is a beau geste,” the man said. Then he finished his drink and left the bar. I looked over at the bartender. “Who’s the old gent?” I asked. “A. P. Bowman,” said the bartender. “What’s his story?” I asked. “You don’t want to know,” said the bartender. “Oh, but I do!” I said. “Let me explain something to you,” the bartender said. He came out from behind the bar, grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and threw me out the front door of the bar. I crumpled to the sidewalk, aware once again of the oppressive heat and humidity. I had not had a chance to even order a beer. Could this have been the real A. P. Bowman? Did he visit or reside in New Orleans in 1971? I have since misplaced the Mardi Gras coin the old man gave me, but I distinctly remember that its recto bore an image of the planet Saturn.

    May 29, 2012 at 6:30 am

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