Prelude See him, his face, his presence. But he is not the same.  He recognizes…you think. A fluttering of hope.  Allegro con espressione The universe shifted in the night along with your memories.  In your daughter’s room, a missing shoe peeks from under her violet bed near a heap of books. The cover of one…

A child was prattling on the upstairs balcony. Hella had never seen any children in the building and the noise unsettled her, made her wonder if there was a parent nearby or just that soft-skinned baby, crawling along the edge. Not that it concerned her. She went inside with her cup of tea, closed the…

(Originally published at Kendall Reviews.) I’ve recently been reading Clive Barker’s first three volumes of the Books of Blood on the recommendation of the great and only Gavin Kendall. This collection is somewhat legendary, and whilst I’m pleased to say that it did live up to the immense expectation placed upon it, I also have…

The Rue Morgue Evolution and the Horror of Being Human

(Originally published in Orpheus + Eurydice Unbound.) Eula says the word and steps into the club with her sisters, no better dancers in town. They slip and skitter in the crowd, all hot excitement. Every joint they hit they light up the party, and manager-men get nervous. Once the sisters get going they don’t stop.…

  • Think You Know Horror? Dead Right Might Tell You Otherwise

    Lisa Morton
    Once upon a time, Burbank was a sleepy Los Angeles suburb known chiefly as the butt of a running Laugh-In joke (every week announcer Gary Owens told us the show was coming from “beautiful downtown Burbank”). It had a reputation as a conservative bastion in the midst of the blue Southern California landscape, with its…
  • Cire Perdue

    Ariel Marken Jack
    (Originally published in No Trouble At All.) It’s February when I realize my legs are made of wax. It’s not the month that comes as a surprise to me—nothing good ever happens in February—but it’s a shock somehow to discover the season has changed. The last I noticed, it was November, the season of things…
  • The Boy In the Barn, 1929

    Jessica L. Walsh
    His overalls are fire-ribbonedgas-fueled and then gone.  She swats out flames bare-handedand their skin marries in blisters. Threads of her palms settlein the gelled red craters of his body. She carries him to the doctor’s housethen returns to her room behind the school. The next day she wears church glovesto chalk perfect letters on the…
  • A Girl Walks Out of A Bar

    Jessica L. Walsh
    When I asked my professor for a letter,he said What you should do is open a bar.Jackson or Flint, maybe. Someplace rough. He saw me. Knew that I’d never stopbeing the kind of woman you can still call a broad,that I would always be one minutefrom starting shitI lacked the sense to regret.He knew my…
  • A Name In the Winter

    Derek Alan Jones
    The coyotes have been bolder this winter than I’ve ever seen them before. As each night grows colder, and darker, and longer, they push in a little farther past the city limits. The Department of Wildlife blames an unchecked boom in their population, coupled with the fact that garbage cans and the occasional Pomeranian make…
  • The Skullhole Panic

    N. M. Whitley
    I first sought out J.R.'s services at the urging of my girlfriend Katie. To this day, my memory of those pivotal moments remains surprisingly lucid, more so considering the raggedy state of my life at the time. Weeks earlier, I'd lost my driver’s license and thus was forced to Uber to J.R.'s clinic, just off…
  • Coblynau

    Catherine McCarthy
    (Originally published in Mists and Megaliths.) The old man in the Fair Isle sweater sits and stares at the view beyond the patio door. Decades of coal dust nestle in lungs that rattle like a percolator. "They’re coming. Soon," he says, though no-one pays any heed. Veined hands, like a 3D road map, flex and…
  • The Shift

    Prelude See him, his face, his presence. But he is not the same.  He recognizes…you think. A fluttering of hope.  Allegro con espressione The universe shifted in the night along with your memories.  In your daughter’s room, a missing shoe peeks from under her violet bed near a heap of books. The cover of one…
  • The Rue Morgue Evolution and the Horror of Being Human

    (Originally published at Kendall Reviews.) I’ve recently been reading Clive Barker’s first three volumes of the Books of Blood on the recommendation of the great and only Gavin Kendall. This collection is somewhat legendary, and whilst I’m pleased to say that it did live up to the immense expectation placed upon it, I also have…
  • Naglfar

    A child was prattling on the upstairs balcony. Hella had never seen any children in the building and the noise unsettled her, made her wonder if there was a parent nearby or just that soft-skinned baby, crawling along the edge. Not that it concerned her. She went inside with her cup of tea, closed the…
  • In This Dress, Stitched In Anger, I Thee Wed

    (Originally published in Orpheus + Eurydice Unbound.) Eula says the word and steps into the club with her sisters, no better dancers in town. They slip and skitter in the crowd, all hot excitement. Every joint they hit they light up the party, and manager-men get nervous. Once the sisters get going they don’t stop.…
  • Think You Know Horror? Dead Right Might Tell You Otherwise

    Once upon a time, Burbank was a sleepy Los Angeles suburb known chiefly as the butt of a running Laugh-In joke (every week announcer Gary Owens told us the show was coming from “beautiful downtown Burbank”). It had a reputation as a conservative bastion in the midst of the blue Southern California landscape, with its…
  • Cire Perdue

    (Originally published in No Trouble At All.) It’s February when I realize my legs are made of wax. It’s not the month that comes as a surprise to me—nothing good ever happens in February—but it’s a shock somehow to discover the season has changed. The last I noticed, it was November, the season of things…
  • The Boy In the Barn, 1929

    His overalls are fire-ribbonedgas-fueled and then gone.  She swats out flames bare-handedand their skin marries in blisters. Threads of her palms settlein the gelled red craters of his body. She carries him to the doctor’s housethen returns to her room behind the school. The next day she wears church glovesto chalk perfect letters on the…
  • A Girl Walks Out of A Bar

    When I asked my professor for a letter,he said What you should do is open a bar.Jackson or Flint, maybe. Someplace rough. He saw me. Knew that I’d never stopbeing the kind of woman you can still call a broad,that I would always be one minutefrom starting shitI lacked the sense to regret.He knew my…
  • A Name In the Winter

    The coyotes have been bolder this winter than I’ve ever seen them before. As each night grows colder, and darker, and longer, they push in a little farther past the city limits. The Department of Wildlife blames an unchecked boom in their population, coupled with the fact that garbage cans and the occasional Pomeranian make…
  • The Skullhole Panic

    I first sought out J.R.'s services at the urging of my girlfriend Katie. To this day, my memory of those pivotal moments remains surprisingly lucid, more so considering the raggedy state of my life at the time. Weeks earlier, I'd lost my driver’s license and thus was forced to Uber to J.R.'s clinic, just off…