Tarot, The Fool

So lately I’ve been captivated by Tarot. I don’t have a deck myself, but I don’t know which one I want, of the hundreds of available choices, and the huge variety of artistic styles. I feel like I need a deeper understanding of the system in order to make a good choice, so I decided to start drawing my own. Right now I’m just sketching, because honestly my art isn’t very good. It probably won’t ever be a deck that I will print and use.

Rider-Waite-Smith fool card, 1910

Nonetheless, I started researching the symbology used in the cards, and began at the beginning, with the Fool. The deck that is considered the standard traditional set is commonly called Rider-Waite, though it was designed by Pamela Colman Smith, in 1910. Most modern versions of the fool depict variations on Smith’s design, with a youth on a journey. He’s looking toward the sky and about to step off the edge of a cliff, while his faithful little dog jumps toward his feet.

But it turns out that there is a much older version, dated around 1650, by the engraver Noblet. This Fool bears some similarity to the modern Fool, with a notable exception: in this card, the dog is some kind of web-footed dog-cat hybrid, and instead of jumping at his feet, the animal is clearly reaching for the man’s exposed and dangling man-parts.

The Noblet Fool card, ca. 1650

I saw this card in an image search, and was puzzled by it all day, until finally I went to the page where it appeared and read Michael S. Howard’s lengthy treatise on alchemy and the early Tarot. The animal’s gesture is an attempt to take forbidden fruit, and also recalls mad Saturn, who ate his children rather than let them take over his rule. Eventually Jupiter managed to castrate his father, and replace him as the highest god.

What does any of this have to do with monster erotica? I have no idea. Maybe it’s nothing more than that I like to look at man-parts, to partake of the forbidden fruit; even though in this case they’re not particularly attractive. History and mythology are so rich, and human experience and consciousness so varied, there must be a story in here somewhere, if I can tease it out.

What strange ideas are captivating and inspiring you these days?


Well, I’m a day late for Krampusnacht, but Mercury is just today stationing direct, so you’re probably a bit delayed in your communications as well. In any case, yesterday was Krampus’s official “holy day,” which in my opinion is the perfect time to enjoy a revision of Krampus in the form of erotica.

There are lots of articles around about Krampus, but I like this one from the illustrious National Geographic. Be sure to watch the video, it’s great.

Then, go straight to Amazon and download “Christmas Blues With Krampus,” to put another level of enjoyment into your belated Krampusnacht celebration.

Lowering prices!

I’m in the process of lowering prices on my monster erotica titles, mostly from $2.99 to $.99. With the exception of the first release, “Lure of the Prairie Monster,” you can read them free if you have Kindle Unlimited. But if you want to own them, and share them with all your monster-loving friends, you can now do so at a better price. As of today, you can buy these titles for $.99:

Lure of the Prairie Monster

Summer of the Centaur

Santa Shifter

Last but not least, my newest story, “Christmas Blues With Krampus,” is introduced at the lower price.

So rejoice, dear friends of monster erotica, and enjoy these delicious stories for less.

Christmas Blues With Krampus, Excerpt

Cover of "Christmas Blues With Krampus." Partially-obscured male face smiling mischievously from the darkness.

“Oh, those cookies are as delightful to eat as they are to look at!” Brenda cooed over a cookie she was sampling in the trendy pop-up bakery. It had a little scene painted on it in icing, of a family around a Christmas tree, the smiling children holding yet-to-be-unwrapped gifts. “I’ll take three—no, a dozen. Rhea, can you hold this bag while I get my wallet?”

Rhea tried to smile cheerfully as she took a bulky shopping bag from her friend. “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” was banging out of a speaker on the counter near her head, and she tried to shut out the insipid noise. She glanced at the dark-haired man behind the counter, wondering if he could adjust the sound, but he was occupied with the transaction. So she stood there, looking around the store, trying not to exude impatience. Her friend was the picture of holiday cheer, smiling and jiggling her head to highlight her earrings of sparkly little red and green bells. That racket coming out of the sound system was probably her favorite Christmas song.

That was why Rhea could never bring herself to tell Brenda how downright painful it was for her to participate in these holiday festivities. She knew that depression was common in the Christmas season, but she didn’t think her annual funk was simply biological. It was triggered by elements of Christmas culture, deeply ingrained in everything people did this time of year. When darkness of winter sets in, why not embrace it? Why not pull inward, like the animals do? Why cover every vertical surface with lights, why the forced gaiety and the endless repetition of commercially packaged pop songs with their relentless cheerfulness?

You’d think people had something to hide. Were they afraid of the dark? Or of their own inner darkness?

No, Rhea would never be good at this holiday thing.

But Brenda had insisted on dragging Rhea out shopping with her. She truly only wanted to share her joy with her friend. Perhaps her buoyant spirits would lift Rhea’s too. And Rhea tried to let it happen. Tried to appreciate the sweaters and fine glassware in the department stores, tried to enjoy the bustling city, tried not to think about the orangutans made homeless by the destruction of their jungle for plantations that supplied the palm oil in these lovely, hand-crafted cookies. Normal people didn’t think about those things. Just be like a normal person, she told herself. Be happy.

As they left the store, Brenda tossed a fiver in the bucket outside the shop, and a man in a Santa suit paused in his bell ringing to smile and thank her. Then she grinned and reached into the bakery bag and pulled out one of those shockingly expensive cookies. “And here’s something for you. Merry Christmas.” He grinned back and raised the cookie to her like a glass of champagne.

Turning down the street, Brenda handed Rhea a cookie too. “You need something to cheer you up. You’re supposed to be happy in the holidays.”

“If I could afford stuff like this, I’d be happier,” lied Rhea, taking the cookie.

“Aw, come on, just think of your favorite holiday song.” She really wanted Rhea to be happy.

“‘In the Bleak Midwinter?'”

Brenda laughed. “I love you, you keep me grounded.”

Rhea examined the cookie. It was really quite well done. The fine details of the little picture were stunning, the colors vibrant.

“You should pay attention, though,” Brenda added. “That guy in the bakery was checking you out. A smile goes a long way, you know.”

“He was?” It seemed unlikely. Brenda was usually the one who got noticed, of the two of them.

“Oh yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. He looked like just your type.”

“What’s my type?”

“Oh, dark, kind of skinny, unshaven. Intense eyes.”

Rhea chuckled. “That totally sounds like my type. Though I might not call him skinny, so much as . . . lean.”

After a moment, she added, “But maybe he wouldn’t care if I smiled or not. He might like a surly woman like me.”

She took a bite of the cookie. It was perfectly crunchy and melted in her mouth. She looked at it again. “Hey, who’s that looking in the window?” It looked sort of like a face, but gray-blue, peeking through a window behind the Christmas tree.

They stopped walking to examine the cookie. “That’s Krampus,” Brenda said. “Funny, I don’t think he’s on the other cookies I bought.”

“Are those horns sticking out of his head?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing they’re doing in Germany or someplace, he’s like anti-Santa, he kidnaps the bad children and throws them in a bag and eats them.”

Surely Brenda hadn’t heard the story right. Who would tell such a story at Christmas time? But Rhea did find something somehow satisfying in it. Maybe some people were finally acknowledging the dark side of winter.

She took another bite.


Will Rhea find help with her seasonal depression? Why is that blue dude on her cookie? Was the bakery guy really checking her out? And what about the orangutans? You can buy the whole story on Amazon now. Watch for free days starting next week. Free every day if you have Kindle Unlimited.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends!


Hi friends, I promised you some new monster erotica this year, and I am finally making good on the promise. This is actually a story I wrote last year, but didn’t complete in time for the holidays. With some slight changes that make it even better, I am very pleased with this one. It’s a delicious revision of the story of the mysterious Krampus. In this story there will be no beating of children. Everyone involved will be a consenting adult. There will be a very long, forked tongue.

KrampusI have just now submitted to Amazon, so it may be a day or two before you can find it there. But here’s the cover, so you’ll know when you see it. As always, you can look at my author page for all my releases, and you can receive notices of news if you subscribe to the Crea DelRand blog.

Thank you for all of your support!

Bigfoot Erotica Still In the News!

It’s not every day Bigfoot makes it into national news, and I’m going to take every advantage of it. Well, not every, because it did occur to me to throw together a new story and release it this week, but I don’t think I’m going to do that. But I’m still reading the news stories as they come out. It’s surprising me how many different angles journalists are finding.

In this article, Lux Alptraum argues that, by talking about Bigfoot erotica in regards to Denver Riggleman, we are diminishing the gravity of the other claim that has been made against him, which is that he sympathizes with neo-Nazis. I think there’s something to this. Because it really isn’t bad to enjoy a little monster erotica. No one is harmed, as long as the monsters are fully sentient and imaginary. To me, it wouldn’t be a reason not to vote for a person.

On the other hand, being a Nazi sympathizer is definitely a reason not to vote for someone. Do I need to explain why? It’s pretty weird, because those people have historically not been in favor of sexual freedom. I haven’t researched Riggleman, because I have no vote in the race he’s running in. But, wow, people, please choose carefully when you vote.

Then check out my story about an ultra-right militia occupation, and a little fun they have with Bigfoot.


Bigfoot Erotica In the News

HILLSIs truth stranger than fiction? Well, I will maintain that my monster erotica story “Bigfoot Bangs the Militia” is still stranger than the truth in the news today, though the news is, amazingly enough, approaching the story. You may have heard that in Virginia’s congressional race, Dem candidate Leslie Cockburn has accused GOP opponent Denver Riggleman of cozying up with neo-Nazis. Her new contention today is that he also is a fan of Bigfoot erotica. He had some material on Instagram that indicated he intended to release a book entitled, “The Mating Habits of Bigfoot and Why Women Want Him.”

I have so many thoughts about this story. First, why do only women want Bigfoot? Bigfoot has a lot of love, plenty to share with men as well as women. Second, enjoying monster erotica needn’t be a cause for shame, though being stupid enough to show it on a public Instagram page might be reason to question the candidate’s fitness for office. We will leave that to the voters. My third thought is, it’s too bad the Bigfoot hunters interviewed for this article in the Washington Post are so down on Bigfoot erotica. They might lighten up a bit and take any publicity as good. We’re all on the same side, guys.

Lastly, I’d like to point out to those who are interested in Bigfoot, the extreme right, and monster erotica, that my story “Bigfoot Bangs the Militia” weaves together all these themes. For this story, I really tried to get into the heads of some rightwing activists. If nothing else, I’m sure you will find that this story is like no other, and if I say so myself, it’s more fun than politics.


An incredible sculpture garden lies on the expansive lawn of Kansas City’s Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. I had lots of feelings about many of the pieces, but Ursula von Rydingsvard’s statement struck me: “I am drawn to that part of the world where manmade walls erode in a way where there is no longer a strict line between that which man has made and that which nature has made.” Oh Ursula, so am I. That’s what Crea DelRand monster erotica is all about, the dissolution of boundaries between the wild and the civilized. I wonder if she likes monster erotica?

The sculpture she was talking about is called Three Bowls. Despite my imagined kinship with von Rydingsvard, I found her piece to be singularly not sexy. Some of the Henry Moore works were quite a bit more suggestive, which amuses me, as my parents were big fans, and I wonder how my mom would’ve responded had I said, Hey, that sculpture called Sheep Piece looks like a couple of sheep, you know, getting it on.

Let’s take inspiration and beauty wherever we find them, in high art or in cheap, sensational erotica. I love it all.


Special Deal on Holiday Shifter Story!

Santa Shifter, a story about a visit from Santa the shapeshifting reindeer shaman, is on sale now, until Christmas. It’s a Kindle Countdown Deal, which means that the sooner you buy, the better the price. Better hurry.

And Merry Christmas, monster erotica lovers. It’s the holiday I celebrate, though I’m equally happy to celebrate Solstice, or Yule, or any other holiday that you find meaningful.

Sharing One’s Gifts

It was Thanksgiving Day, and, as always, my efforts to ensure that I had everything I needed to prepare my contribution to the meal didn’t quite succeed. I had the pumpkin, the sugar, the flour . . . but when I opened the drawer to get wax paper for rolling out the pie dough, there was an empty space.

I went to the local dollar store, and made a point of thanking the man behind the counter for working on a holiday. He said he was happy to be working for time and a half. A young woman checked out before me, buying two boxes of macaroni and cheese mix. The cashier gently teased her. I said, “Looks like somebody needs an invitation.” She just smiled and looked down. Obviously this would have been the moment to extend such an invitation, but I found myself unable to speak. What would I say? My family really would welcome a new friend, but she wouldn’t know that. How would I word an invitation to sound welcoming, casual, and fun?  I always botch these things. I talk to strangers frequently, but often as not I inadvertently insult them. And it wouldn’t be, “Come to my house,” but “Come to my in-laws’ house 30 miles away.” Would I offer her a ride? The car isn’t big enough for three adults and two children. Give her directions? It was too complicated, and I couldn’t get the words out before she was out the door.

I chided myself on the way home. Why am I so bad at these things? My mother-in-law wouldn’t have hesitated to invite someone to Thanksgiving dinner. She’s much better than I am at things like that, and she reaches out a lot. That was one of her great strengths as a preacher. But it’s never been mine. It occurred to me that maybe I’m just not meant to do this particular action. I guess if the Goddess had intended me to bring people spontaneously into my home, She might have made me better at it.

Do our abilities point the way to action? May I be forgiven for failing to invite a person alone on a holiday to come to my home, if I commit myself to what I’m good at? And what would that be? Writing formula-defying, unsalable, perverse erotica.

So that will be my promise to you, dear readers, in the next year. I’ve taken a year off, but in 2018 there will be new monster erotica. It’s my Divine calling.