Hertzan Chimera stands in a darkened room with his eyes tight shut, awaiting his mysterious interviewee. Legend has it that anyone looking directly at Christina Sng will be torn apart by their own lust. A swishing sound as of a curtain revealing some rare exhibit. An intriguing scent, part melon, part chewing gum. Down in the valley, Godzilla is protecting the city from Mothra. The entire room throbs with arcane magic.

CHRISTINA SNG: (her voice, like honey-flavoured lubricating jelly, comes from all directions) Come here little Chimera Toy and let me take a closer look at you.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (fumbles about in the dark, his hand touches something soft, dry) I'd like to ask you a few impersonal, and hopefully inoffensive, questions for Terror Tales. The owner, Johnny B is a very big fan of yours. He wants to offer you your own message board and everything... (a lone mosquito awakens, annoys the interviewer with its high-pitched wing beats) Is the mosquito a friend of yours?

CHRISTINA SNG: (a sound like leather jeans as she adjusts her position) No, no, not a friend, just me taking a closer look.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (the mosquito buzzes between the interviewer's eyes for a minute and then darts away) It has been said that you are a strange beast, Christina - why won't you show yourself?

CHRISTINA SNG: A strange beast? Who told? (a leathery tendril wraps around Chimera's waist, breaking a couple of ribs) Why, little Chimera Toy, I am already here.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (the floor judders softly as if some machine had started up) In preparation for this interview, I have waded through a lot of your creative outpourings. What is it that keeps a creative entity like yourself so attuned to the horror vibe?

CHRISTINA SNG: (titters nostalgically) I was born in a haunted house, where the tortured souls of wartime horror whispered to me as I lay in my crib. As a little girl, I had no living friends, save for the cats and other pets my brother kept. I suppose I was a strange beast even then, loving the night more than the day. There were many shadows in that house and in each shadow lived a friend. I was never lonely as a child.
When I started reading, I craved for the tales reminiscent of those my dear childhood friends told. Both the Dark Forces and the Twilight horror series for children I ravenously devoured, till my mother announced she was no longer going to replace the tattered volumes. Of course, then school began. (the tendril tightens a little and a rib pops out of Chimera's chest, spurting a thread of blood into the darkness) And with school began the real horrors. There is nothing more horrific than the extent of human cruelty. Did you know that?

HERTZAN CHIMERA: I have always known that.

CHRISTINA SNG: (The tendril eases Chimera to the ground and pushes the rib back into his body. Some rose-smelling liquid emits from the tendril tip and closes up the wound) We've made it through the wilderness, you and I - I sense that now with my very being. Somehow I made it through. I've learnt the horrors creeping in the shadows at night are far less fearful than the horrors out there on the street wearing human skin. There is enough horror in the world to sustain every Dark Creature. I, of course, have become part of the horror. And you will learn what it means to know me.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (gasping for breath as the wound in his side reels from the slap of raw vinegar) I have thought that maybe one time I would like to offer myself to the craziness of insane horrors like you - but now that I have the opportunity, my body won't let me open my eyes. How can I be cured of this denial? What will let me surrender myself to your horror? Make me strong.

CHRISTINA SNG: (tens of fingers dart out and tear away Chimera's clenched eyelids) Let me show you why you should worship the likes of me. A light flickers and sways. A gay dance of shadows fornicates a hideous progeny in time-capped ferocity. Wings unfurl and a beautiful face rises from the roiling mass of bison entrails, goat horns, anal pucker, vaginal mucus, folds of loveplay, down one side a dark green vein pulsates. The vision tears the back off of Chimera's retinas, leaving him permanently blind. He feels a forest of hunger racing towards him like leather thongs. Intertwining with his muscles, fusing with his bones.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: Stay away from me, you horror thing. You sewer monster! I never thought it could be like this. I am not worthy of your underground attention. Your open coffin of temptation.

Sng's multiskulls crack against Chimera's bruised, battered and bleeding face. Slime-lubricated boneless arms constrict around Chimera's chest so that his breathing stops and in his last moment, Creature Sng reveals her worst nightmare to the population of planet Earth via this vile union. How the disease of human blood is destined to drown him. Creature Sng thrusts a bone sickle through Chimera's thigh, bisecting the fragile bone, rupturing an artery and emptying him into a veiny vat that has slid beneath his suspended form.

CHRISTINA SNG: Don't you feel more free and fluid in this form, dear Chimera? No more backaches, bad eyesight, or cracking bones. Now you see with your touch. Is this not a more enlightened form?

Chimera peers up from the vat, his liquefied flesh reaching upwards to the edge of the rim. Sng drops a recently decapitated head of a shell-shocked college girl into the Chimera mix. He dissolves it with his free-flowing stomach acids and slurps it up hungrily.

CHRISTINA SNG: Drink, Chimera Toy, drink. Slurping sounds fill the room as both creatures partake of their snacks, Chimera with his melted head and Sng with the lesser bits.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: While we snack, madame, tell me about the Dark Side of Eden. What is it that so fascinates you about the wickedness embodied by the serpent?

CHRISTINA SNG: (assuming the form of the serpent) The serpent is not wicked. In fact, in some cultures it is revered. Humans define what is wicked, usually what is harmful to them. Wouldn't we be wicked to the pen of animals about to be slaughtered? Symbols are all manmade. We see what we want to see; we label things we attribute values to, often without logical reason.

My collection The Darkside of Eden chronicles Eden as we know it and exposes it for what it is - a façade. Our dark propensities tucked carefully under the veneer of civilisation, the same old betrayals and disappointments since genesis, and the humour we choose to handle ourselves when the world as we know it falls apart around us. Christina Sng shakes off her dried snakeskin and emerges a thin porcelain-faced Chinese girl. She looms over Chimera's liquefied form. Her fangs seep poison and her entire body shudders with something like cannibalistic hunger. Suddenly, she finds she has awakened from her dream and the interview is just about to begin.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (pushes his glasses back onto his nose, grins like an idiot) So, my first question - As a writer, where do you get all your cRaZy ideas?