Deadline: May 31st, 2024
Payment: 2 cents per word and both a hardcover and paperback contributors copy
Theme: stories involving ghosts and possession
We are looking for your stories involving ghosts and possession.
| Open for Submissions: | April 1, 2024 through May 31, 2024 |
| Expected Publication: | October 2024 |
SUBMISSION REQUIREMENTS
Deadline: July 1st, 2024
Payment: 2 cents per word and a contributors copy
Theme: Poetry of any genre under 50 words in length
Note: Reprints welcome
Please send no more than five poems of no more than 50 words each. Many long poems are brilliant, but if they are more than 50 words (including title), send ’em elsewhere. We’re all about the number 50 here. Subject matter and theme are open to all possibiliies–except (and in a perfect world, this would not need to be said, but, alas . . .)–send nothing that advocates in favor of the ugly themes: racism, sexism, bigotry, hate speech of any sort, transphobia, antisemitism, Islamophobia, etc. No animal cruelty or gratuitous violence. If you have an anti-racist/anti-cruelty, etc., poem you want to submit, send it along. Please, no AI-generated material of any sort. Tasteful hints of erotica may be acceptable, but pornographic material is not for The Number Fifty. We’re not allergic to laughter and are happy to consider comic or humorous poems. If more poets and editors had a sense of humor, poetry might be more popular.
In the slew of interactions that make up our daily lives, there are individuals who simply stand out. Perhaps you’ve heard the remarks in passing conversations about someone being “quite a character.” This isn’t just idle talk. These people captivate us because they are distinctly different from the rest—memorable characters in the narrative of our lives.
What makes someone a memorable character? It’s often a mix of idiosyncratic traits and stories that set them apart. It’s the same with literature. From Hamlet to Harry Potter, characters form the backbone of memorable stories. While an intricate plot can draw readers in, it’s the characters that resonate with them long after the final page is turned.
Greetings, children of the dark. Hope you’re all enjoying the shorter / longer days (delete as applicable according to your hemisphere). I’ll tell you what: this has been a massive energy-draining week for me for various reasons, and I’m sure glad I’m staring at the weekend. I had wanted to get started on reading your (I’m sure all amazing) short story submissions, but I need a day off already! I’ll get to working through them ASAP, though.
What I do need, though, is MOAR DRABBLES. Our drabble cupboard is looking awfully bare right now. We’ve got some going through the process now, but it’s only a couple of weeks worth. And that means I’m challenging you, dear reader, to get your drabble hats on. I’d love it if next week I can report that I’ve had a ton of drabble subs. Shall we set a goal? I would like to see at least 10 drabbles in the inbox before I write this column for the first issue of May. Can you make that happen? Get ’em ready and head to the submissions page. Remember when you’re using the form (here) to choose TWF from the first dropdown menu, and then choose ‘drabbles’ so it can be routed to the right place.
Anyways, this week’s TWF menu is kicked off by a nihilistic museum visit with Adrian Fahy. That story is followed by the short, sharp speculations of:
Over to you, Stuart.
Hi all!
Another week of sick children, though finally, they’re both better now! Outside of that a bit more progress on the new layout as well as Shadowed Realms. Really hoping to have some solid details on both of those soon. Also, a couple of quick news bits:
Offhand, if you’ve ordered Trembling With Fear Volume 6, we’d appreciate a review! 🙂
Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.
The Avon lady informed Amelia and Riya that she believed the elderly lady at number 13 had passed. Thoughts of the rich widow’s jewellery enticed them into her home, where they found the basement door ajar and entered hesitantly.
In the corner of the room stood the Avon rep, facing the wall, whispering.
“Hello?” they asked nervously.
Turning to greet them, her face became visible – the face of the deceased resident, wild-eyed, her mouth foaming.
The pair ran, tormented by her whispers. Her words rang in Amelia’s ears.
Amelia fell, choking. Her spine arching violently as death’s verse consumed her.
Extract from a 999 call, placed at 18:15 13/02/2024:
Call Handler: Police, what’s your emergency?
Female Caller: Help! Police?
Call Handler: Hello, Miss. How can we help?
*Heavy breathing*
Female caller: Oh fuck, oh fuck, OH FUCK!
Call handler: Miss, I need you to stay calm.
*sobbing*
Female Caller: She’s… She’s all bent up. She’s broken in half! No… The lady… She’s coming!
*screaming*
Call Handler: Miss, are you okay?
*Inaudible whispering*
Woman’s voice: Diabolum vocare; coprus frangere. Vocatis spiritibus; accipere animam. Diabolum vocare; coprus frangere. Vocatis spiritibus; accipere animam
*Choking sound*
Call terminated at 18:24
Four editors died during the creation of this publication. suicides, the police concluded. Suspectly, they were each found in the same position, folded in half. The expressions on their faces were haunting; photographs published online show bloodshot eyes opened wide, staring from their head’s new position by the back of their pelvis. Their mouths stretched so far open that their jaws dislocated. Human incarnations of Munch’s The Scream.
There is a theory – Editing started on the 13th. It’s possible that reading the 13th entry on the 13th of the month seals your fate. Hopefully, I’m wrong.
Better check your calendar.
Liam Kerry is a thinking enthusiast with a bad memory. Writing helps him recall his daydreams. An anthology of his micro-fiction will be available later in 2024.
Deadline: September 30th, 2024
Payment: $125 – $200
Theme: Weird tales set in the Victorian period that explore the human (and inhuman) experience through the lens of horror.
LEVIATHAN: Submission Brief
Sentinel Creatives has opened up for submissions for “LEVIATHAN: An Anthology of Industrial Horror.”
Deadline for Submissions: 30 September 2024
Wordcount: 3,000 – 6,000
Remuneration: $125 – $200
Simultaneous Submissions: Yes
WHAT WE’RE LOOKING FOR
We’re looking for original weird tales set in the Victorian period that explore the human (and inhuman) experience through the lens of horror.
Some clarifications:
Victorian: There is a tendency to view the Victorian Age as beginning and ending with the reign of British monarch Queen Victoria (1837-1901), but this is so strict as to be crude. Rather, the period will be what is referred to as The Long Nineteenth Century (1789-1914), which begins with the French Revolution and ends just short of World War I. This expanded timeframe serves to foreground the transformations that took place within British society and brings those changes into stark relief.
This period usually takes England as its geographical norm, and often a particular city: London. But for the purposes of this anthology, the region will also include Scotland, Ireland, Wales, as well as India and the furthest reaches of the British Empire. There is considerable scope here, and the period is rich in conflict and upheaval, which any excellent story cannot do without.
Show us primitive science, at once enlightened and profane, the obscure craft of learned mutilators who frighten all, even the dead. Or the Resurrection men, who do their bidding by midnight, and fear more moonlight than the noose. Give us tales of strife and privation, loss and alienation; rural homesteads replaced by hypnotic topographies of stone and glass, cloaked in smog; of choking workhouses and tumbledown tenements. Show us who built this world, mixing mortar with bone, but won’t inherit it. Take us where rail and steam cannot, where clockwork minds are set adrift from empire—from themselves. Give us immigrant tales: ex-lives, diasporic fugitives—what did they leave behind, and what did they bring with them? Give us your silent biographies of the obscure and unseen.
By Lionel Ray Green
Kevin Bachar uses his experiences as an Emmy Award-winning documentary filmmaker to inspire his horror writing. The results so far are two collections, Dread and Creep, firmly entrenched in the top 10 of Amazon’s Horror Anthologies category since their release.
Another short story collection titled Cursed is out April 26, completing his three-book series Nights of Madness.
Bachar is president of Pangolin Pictures where he directs, shoots and writes documentary films.
“If you’ve watched National Geographic, PBS or The Discovery Channel over the years, you’ve seen my work,” he says. “I produce in all genres but specialize in natural history filmmaking. Series like PBS Nature or Shark Week have featured my films. Not bad for a kid from Queens.”
A three-time Emmy Award winner for his work on the National Geographic Explorer series, Bachar thinks his documentary work gives his writing “a real-world feel.”
“I don’t need to hit up Wikipedia for a lot of research,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be on a stakeout with cops or know what a tornado sounds like when it roars into a town, since I’ve filmed those things in real life.”
Bachar agreed to an exclusive email interview with Lionel Ray Green for The Horror Tree about his horror collections, screenplay writing, and future projects.
I’d like to take this time to give special thanks to our Patreon Sponsors who are at the Level 3 reward level and above!
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– Burial Books.
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– Celltrackingapps.
