Author: Stuart Conover

Novel / Ongoing Submissions

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Ongoing Submissions: 18thWall Productions Novels

18thWall Productions is always open to novel submissions.

Please send us your first 20,000 words, a full outline, and a cover letter (i.e. your email) where you tell us something about yourself (including previous credits) and what led you to write your novel. Don’t stress it. A mangled cover letter won’t kill your chances with us. Like with any first date, the best advice is this: just be yourself.

We prefer that your novel submission follow the William Shun format outline, except that you use Times New Roman. It’s easier on our poor, editorial eyes.

Your email header should be Novel Submission: Title, Author’s Name, Wordcount.

Email your submission packet to [email protected].

Please do not submit a manuscript with hyperlinks. If a link is required, we will discuss that upon acceptance.

We are not open to simultaneous submissions.

Via: 18th Wall Productions.

Trembling With Fear

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Trembling With Fear 06/10/2018

I was feeling a bit stuck for an editorial this week but a submission from an Australian author made me think I’d seen an increase in stories from down under in recent times. This got me to thinking about where in the world our writers come from so I did a quick study. Note all figures are taken from those who have been successful this year, ie those we hold contracts for. I have not included those currently going through the submission process or who may have been rejected, nor have I based it on the number of stories a writer may have had published. Figures are derived purely from the names currently held in the ‘Accepted’ Folder for 2018

So here we go:

Drabbles.

United States – 57%

United Kingdom – 26%

Canada – 7%

Australia – 2%

Spain – 2%

Portugal – 2%

Sweden – 2%

Germany – 2% (although now living in Ireland)

Note: in the case of Spain, Portugal and Canada, these include ex—pat Brits.

 

Drabbles: Male v Female update

Women: 28%

Men: 72%

 

Short Stories

United States – 53%

United Kingdom – 20%

Canada – 15%

Australia – 3%

South Africa – 3%

Australia – 3%

Portugal – 3%

Republic of Ireland – 3%

Short Stories: Male v Female update

Women: 38%

Men: 62%

(The gap between men and women for both drabbles and short stories is purely down to how many submit in the first place and acceptances are based purely on the quality of the story but men definitely sub more than women.)

As an avid follower of the ‘Walter Presents’ programmes which are shown on Channel 4 (I watch them via the ALL4 app on my tv) I would love to see more stories from writers in Europe. The programmes I’ve seen are often quite dark and come from Scandinavia, Belgium, Germany, France amongst others and are extremely good quality; their reach even extends to South America although I tend to go for the colder climes, it was my love of Scandi noir that led me to WP in the first place. If you’ve not heard of Walter Presents, I would highly recommend them. Go here http://www.channel4.com/collection/walter-presents or @WalterPresents, you don’t even realise you’re following subtitles after a while.

One of our regular authors has also been pursuing a collaboration with another writer in Africa and the result of their work is currently going through the review process.

So … even if you feel your English is not all it could be, please send it in. If I read it and like it then it is something I am usually happy to work on with an author; much as I do for relatively new writers. There are no borders at Horror Tree.

Stephanie Ellis

Editor, Trembling With Fear

The anthology is actually closing in to being ready. However, we’ve come across a major stumbling block for contracts that might hold things up. Figuring out the logistics of getting this resolved in a timely manner ASAP. Everyone involved in the 2017 one should be getting an e-mail relatively soon with a quick revision.

‘Trembling With Fear’ Is Horror Tree’s weekly inclusion of shorts and drabbles submitted for your entertainment by our readers! As long as the submissions are coming in, we’ll be posting every Sunday for your enjoyment.

Stuart Conover

Editor, Horror Tree

The Tram

That dreaded midnight hour on February 26, 2018 was almost upon him.

For the first time in his three-year career as a Hong Kong Tramways driver, it was Andy Chan’s first night shift on route #108 Happy Valley Eastbound on this day. Right across the Happy Valley racecourse was the Hong Kong Cemetery on the west side of Wong Nai Chung Road, where many taxi drivers had experienced the occasional customers paying with seemingly legitimate currency, which later turned out to be hell money. Well, at least tram drivers do not directly handle cash or any form of payment. He would rather not encounter any ghosts, thank you very much.

 

Stopping in a busy intersection in Wan Chai, Andy hung a tin bucket filled with water at the front of the tram.  Some people looked puzzled by his action, but the older locals knew. One street vendor even wished him good luck. He pressed a button to indicate Not In Service on the LED route display board instead of #108 Eastbound. As he started his route, the tram crawled slowly south on Wong Nai Chung Road in a speed just barely faster than jogging.

You have to slow for them if you see them coming, Sam Wong, a colleague, had advised him before he started tonight’s shift. But for Buddha’s sake never ever stop or get off the tram!

The tram just passed Queen’s Road East. Andy’s heart began to race. He glanced at the time on his watch, which was now midnight. He was starting to get gooseflesh, hard like the stubs on his five- year-old son’s Lego bricks. He closed his eyes momentarily after passing Dorsett hotel. The cemetery would come up on his right any second now.

(Why did I become a tram driver?)

An image of his father’s angry face suddenly surfaced in his memory. Angry he could take; but there was so much disappointment in his father’s eyes that Andy had to quit working for his old man. It wasn’t the charred barbecue duck. You’re just not reliable! His old man had said.

(Nobody’s perfect!)

 

He was still young–thirty-one when he first started driving trams–though initially he was only going to do it for a year. The pay was decent and the pension was not bad, though his father would rather have Andy take over the restaurant some day. Ironically, Andy was the one who gained a paunch after sitting in the driver’s seat all day (or night), while his father remained skinny, despite working with food fourteen hours a day, seven days a week.

(At least I still make more money than those college kids with degrees who are mopping floors at McDonald’s!)

When Andy opened his eyes again, he saw nothing; in fact, not a soul on either side of the road at this hour. A wave of relief washed over him. He even laughed aloud, albeit a little nervously. He never saw any ghosts in his life, and this yearly tradition was probably just like any other custom of a very superstitious society, nothing more. Not every driver even bothered to run this route on an empty tram anyway. He nearly resented listening to Sam Wong and the fearmongers at the hub, letting them scare him like this.

He turned on the radio. A monotonous male voice came on and reported the day’s news in Cantonese:

Today marks the 100th anniversary of the catastrophic fire that claimed close to 600 lives at the Happy Valley Racecourse. It all started when a roof collapsed, knocking over portable gas stoves food vendors were using. The fire spread fast and caused a stampede–people trampled over each other trying to escape. Charred remains of more than 590 bodies were eventually recovered, though more were believed to have perished. Buddhist monks were called in to perform a ritual after the dead were reportedly seen around the area after the fire, apparently begging for water…

Andy switched off the radio hastily, nearly knocking it off the panel close to his steering wheel. Why was the tram so slow all of a sudden? He stepped on the gas, but it was still crawling. He kicked the pedal in a moment of frustration–something he regretted instantly–for the tram suddenly stopped dead between the entrance to the racecourse on one side and the cemetery on the other.

The cold night air suddenly turned very hot and smelled like smoke. Andy looked to his left at the racecourse but there was nothing there. No one would be burning incense at this hour at the cemetery (it was closed), and just for confirmation, he looked at the sprawling cemetery but there was no smoke anywhere. In a place like Hong Kong, one would rarely have this opportunity to be completely alone, yet Andy felt like he was the only living soul in the area. He tried to find a logical explanation. Was the smell coming from the engine? If so, what an unfortunate time for it to happen, of all times, of all places!

But for Buddha’s sake don’t ever stop or get off the tram! Sam Wong’s words came to Andy’s mind for the second time tonight.

(What should I do now?)

 

Andy took out his cell phone, but despite the 5G broadband (among the first in the world, no less), he had no signal. The air brought in by the heat exchange smelled like that day he left five barbecue ducks in the oven half an hour too long in his father’s restaurant, an infamy in his family’s history. Then he heard footfalls–lots and lots of them. Every hair on his arms stood on its end, even though he was wearing a down jacket. He was a sitting duck (he thought of the charred barbecue duck again) and not even a single car had passed by. He could hear moaning, wailing, whimpering and screaming all around him, and yet, he still did not see anything. He pushed the button to make sure all the windows were shut and the doors were locked, just in case. In case they…

And then they came.

A teeming crowd–charred and melting–suddenly appeared out of nowhere and swarmed his tram. They flailed their burning arms and bemoaned the heat. They came for the bucket of water. He heard the bucket hit the tram and watched as the water spilled all over. The horde kept coming–some were banging on the glass of his front windows begging for more water. He feared the impact would eventually break the glass, so he did another thing he would regret in a few seconds–he honked the horn to scare them off.

The sound of the horn pierced the ruckus. But instead of inciting fear, it spurred the horde even more. He was completely surrounded and trapped inside the tram. The tram was shaking from side to side like the seats in a 3D ride at amusement parks. Andy had to hold onto his steering wheel to steady himself. He frantically looked at his phone again, but still, no signal. While he prided himself on being a manly man who had never shed a tear, a few drops had started to pool at the corner of his eyes, threatening to trigger a flood. He thought of his wife, his son, and even the angry face of his father, and feared he would not see them again.

(Please go away I gave you water already what more do you want please just leave me alone)

In a moment of panic, he hit the gas pedal again. To his immense relief, the tram jolted and started moving. The charred faces in front of him screamed, some fell as the tram ran them over. Andy shrieked–he would remember the sensation of his tram going over bodies for the rest of his life, and with each thump his tears fell a bit more freely. There was a lot of caterwauling from the dead, as the tram made its trip around the racecourse, passing Wong Nai Chung Road Crescent Garden and going north.

Once he passed the Happy Valley Recreation Ground, he could no longer see the racecourse. The air no longer smelled adust. He looked back in the side and rear-view mirrors and did not see the dead anymore. He wiped his tears and snot off his face with the sleeve of his jacket, erasing any evidence that he wasn’t such a manly man after all.

 

At the end of his route, Andy parked his tram at the hub and left the key for the next driver without a word. It was the last time he clocked out at Hong Kong Tramways.

 

 

 

<<<<>>>>

Judith Baron

Judith Baron loves to base her stories on actual events and folklore, especially from her homeland Hong Kong. She has a Bachelor of Arts degree in English from the University of Western Ontario and currently lives near Toronto, Canada with her husband and child.

Hot Head

He tanned until his white skin turned a burned russet, his shameless smile full of white teeth and reddened eyes providing the only change of hue. More walking potato skin than human, his epidermis shimmered, oiled in a way he no doubt thought was bronzed, with a sure shot at the gold.
Coming in second-to-last didn’t exactly make him happy. Returning to his favored salon, he blamed them for his failure, demanding free sessions, extra oiling and massage. The managers exchanged a nod.
Once he lay inside the tanning bed, they tied the handles, sipping margaritas as he screamed, burning.

Kevin Holton

Kevin Holton is a cyborg and fitness junkie from coastal New Jersey. He’s the author of At the Hands of Madness (Severed Press), as well as the forthcoming novels The Nightmare King (Siren’s Call Publications) and These Walls Don’t Talk, They Scream (HellBound Books). He also co-wrote the short film Human Report 85616, and his short work has appeared with Sci-Phi Journal, The Literary Hatchet, Radiant Crown Press, Pleiades, Rain Taxi, Mighty Quill Books, and Thunderdome Press, among others. He can also be found acting, blogging with The Bold Mom, or talking about Batman.

You can find more of his work on his website, Patreon, Amazon, or just follow him on Twitter .

 

Love To Love You Baby

It’s said there’s someone for everyone and I have always hoped that this was true.
Despite all the challenges, my belief in love never once waivered; my faith in Aphrodite was unshakeable.
This then, was my reward.
A perfect partner. My soulmate.
So, after proposing, and receiving a furious headshake for an answer, it could be said I took the refusal… badly.
They declined my hand in marriage. But I still took theirs.
And their tongue.
Then toes.
Then eyes.
It’s also said that there’s plenty more fish in the sea.
I hope so.
I’m already angling for another catch.

Steven Holding

Steven Holding lives with his family in Northamptonshire in the United Kingdom. His work has been short listed in several contests and his story “UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD” was selected as the winning entry in the WRITING MAGAZINE 2016 annual short story competition. One of his monologues was chosen to be performed at Northampton’s Royal Theatre, while his adaptation of “Alice in Wonderland” was produced at Northampton’s Derngate Theatre in 2017.

 

You can visit his website at www.stevenholding.co.uk

Night Terrors

Your eyes burst open, as though pulled. It is ink dark. Your thundering heart thumps in your temples. Your eyes adjust to dim light, your ears to night’s near silence.
A vision blooms in your mind.
A fragment…
Of a dream?
What is that sound? A scuffing, like the stagger of one who emptied their fifth drink long ago and returned for more. A shadow looms, darker somehow than the darkness around it. It lumbers awkwardly, closing the distance to your bedside. You stare up to face it, mouth gaping, only… there is no face to face.
Only a dream?

Kev Harrison

Kev Harrison is a writer of dark fiction and English language teacher from the UK, living and working in Lisbon, Portugal. His nomadic lifestyle has previously taken him to various cities in the United Kingdom, as well as to Turkey and Poland. He has an unquenchable thirst for travel and is passionate about food, photography, and music, as well as fiction. He is a staff writer for This is Horror and has had short fiction published in a variety of magazines and anthologies, including Below the Stairs: Tales From The Cellar from Things in the Well, Mummy Knows Best from Terror Tree Books and, most recently The Pale Leaves website of gothic and weird fiction and The Other Stories podcast. He has more stories scheduled for publishing in 2018 and is currently editing his first supernatural horror novella.

www.kevharrisonfiction.com

Flat Amount / Magazine / Ongoing Submissions

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Ongoing Submissions: SmokeLong Quarterly

Deadline: $50
Theme: Original Narrative Work

What You Need to Know

SUBMIT NOW

SmokeLong publishes flash fiction up to 1000 words. We do not consider poetry or non-fiction.

Include a print-ready, third-person bio with your cover letter.

Please include no identifying information on your story’s document.

Please send ONE previously unpublished story at a time and wait until you hear our decision before sending another.

Please allow us up to four weeks to inform you if we have accepted your work for publication. You will usually hear from us much sooner.

Simultaneous submissions are accepted. Please inform us immediately if your work has been accepted somewhere else for publication.

We pay $50/story, upon publication in the quarterly issue. Payment will be issued via PayPal, and the writer may be responsible for any associated fees if applicable.

Info to Help Increase Your Chances of Publication

The SLQ aesthetic remains an ever-changing, ever-elusive set of principles, but it most likely has to do with these kinds of things:

  • language that surprises
  • narratives that strive toward something other than a final punch line or twist
  • pieces that add up to something, oftentimes (but not necessarily always) meaning or emotional resonance
  • honest work that feels as if it has far more purpose than a writer wanting to write a story

We are not interested in works previously published in online magazines. We do not consider pieces published only on your personal web site or blog to have been previously published, so we will consider those, but inform us of this in your cover letter and know we may ask you to temporarily take the story down if we accept it. We are interested in pieces that have only previously appeared in print, but only by solicitation.

We have a special place in our hearts, more often than not, for narratives we haven’t seen before. For the more familiar stories—such as relationship break-ups, bar scenarios, terminal illnesses—we tend to need something original and urgent in the writer’s presentation.

We are all writers at SLQ, and we try to be sensitive to the nature of submitting your work—which we realize is often your very private and important selves—to strangers. We so appreciate your entrusting us with your submissions, and although author names and bios are available to us, the staff rarely, if ever, accesses this information before reading each piece.

We want what all readers want from you—something sincerely and uniquely yours, something that stands up to rereading and lingers in our consciousness long after.

Our intent is to respond as quickly as possible. (Note: Our emails sometimes get caught by spam filters, so please add “smokelong.com” to your allow list. We also can’t respond to any third-party spam filter programs, so please don’t submit to us with an email address that has that kind of security set up.)

Online Rights: If we publish your work, we require exclusive electronic rights to it for 3 months and non-exclusive rights indefinitely so we can include it in our online archives.

Print Rights: We require non-exclusive print rights, for potential annual anthologies and promotional materials. All other rights remain yours.

About Our Guest Editing Process

We publish one story each week as a SmokeLong Weekly, chosen by guest editors. We also publish spring, summer, fall and winter quarterly issues. The quarterly issue includes the weekly stories as well as bonus stories and interviews.

Even though our weekly stories are chosen by different editors, you may NOT submit the same story with each new week. Our staff does manage the submission process, and we will — unfortunately — have to disqualify these stories from consideration.

Our staff reviews all stories, including those not chosen by the guest editor of the week. We try to respond with personal comments as time permits and especially if the story and/or writer show promise or advanced far into our reading process, but even if you receive a form rejection from us (or several!) know that we value your time and work and are cheering you on for success.

 

Via: SmokeLong Quarterly.

Trembling With Fear

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Trembling With Fear 06/03/2018

Rejections. I talked about them recently. What I didn’t mention was the ‘theory of twelve’ I discovered via a Facebook thread. I discussed this with Alyson Faye, a regular contributor to Horror Tree and TWF. A number of authors/editors on FB subscribe to the view that a story will usually get published by the time you reach the 12th submission of said story. (I wish I could remember whose thread it was so I could credit them properly!) Aly and I tend to sub a story a lot less than this before we move onto something new but it left me wondering if there was anything in it. So I am testing the theory with one particular story. It has received 2 rejections and is now out on its 3rd submission – 9 more to go perhaps? Sadly any updates will have to wait because this particular submission takes 6-8 weeks before I get a response. But it will be interesting to test the idea all the same. There was also the view you should have between 15-20 short stories out circulating in the ether at any one time. Um … I’ve got several but not sure I could achieve this rate. Anyone else care to test the ‘theory of twelve’?

Continuing with my visitations of various contributor websites, I dropped by that belonging to Kevin M. Folliard http://www.kevinfolliard.com/blog/ – 5 drabbles and 2 shorts accepted/published with TWF 2018. (A little way to go to reach RJ Meldrum with his 9 drabbles and 2 shorts but still prolific – when I have a moment, I will check out the status of our ‘league’ table). This in turn led me to an interview carried out with Hinnom Magazine which not only made Kevin a more ‘real’ person to me but demanded I read the story they were talking about (White Noise). What did I do? I bought a copy of the magazine and I look forward to reading it.

I hope that, like me, when you enjoy an author’s story, you check out their websites, read a little more about them, maybe buy their other works.

Remember to let us know of your successes and we will share them here – or perhaps why not go one better and write a guest post for Horror Tree?

Stephanie Ellis

Editor, Trembling With Fear

“Oh, my, god, Becky, look at her book
It is so big, she looks like
One of those writer guys’ girlfriends
But, ya know, who understands those writer guys?
They only talk to her, because,
She looks like a total bookworm, ‘kay?
I mean, her book, is just so big
I can’t believe it’s just so full of words, it’s like out there
I mean gross, look
She’s just so, smart”

Yes, I’ve lost what little is left of my mind.

‘Trembling With Fear’ Is Horror Tree’s weekly inclusion of shorts and drabbles submitted for your entertainment by our readers! As long as the submissions are coming in, we’ll be posting every Sunday for your enjoyment.

Stuart Conover

Editor, Horror Tree

Catch Me

Charlotte was ready. Coat and boots on she stood in the doorway like a horse waiting to bolt.

She looked back into the room. It was always the same; Harry, still in the bathroom, reluctant to go, but she would be late if she didn’t set off now.

Charlotte called through the steam of the shower.

“It starts at eight. Kings Arms Pub, then onto the riverside trails. Catch up with me.”

“‘Kay,” came the reply.

A sizeable crowd had assembled inside and outside the Kings Arms, many with a drink in hand. Charlotte wasn’t inclined to enter the pub alone and hung around at the back of the group to wait for Harry.

Out of the shadows boomed Ray’s voice. Garbed head to toe in black, his tiny pinched smoky face the only variation in shade. On closer scrutiny even his lips appeared grey; a cavernous gateway to the raven-coloured chasm displayed when he spoke.

Ray welcomed everyone theatrically and beckoned the crowd closer, inviting and enticing them with his tales of spirits and tortured souls from the city’s past.

Charlotte was reluctant to move away from the back of her group in case Harry couldn’t see her but she found herself being pushed further inside as the pub dwellers made their way outside.

“Come forward if you dare. Payment into the hat. If you please.”

Said hat was thrust under Charlotte’s nose. She jerked her head backward, slightly disturbed by the peculiar man. He tilted his head and peered at her from the sides of his eye. She quickly paid and he flitted away in a flurry of cloak.

‘Hurry up, Harry’ she thought, but still there was no sign of him as the ghost tour began.

Back in the hotel Harry rushed around hunting for the information guide.

Ah, here, pretty sure it’s this one by the river. I must catch them up, shouldn’t be too hard. Oh, she will be cross.

The clock chimed eight fifteen as Harry approached the meeting point. He bent forward to catch his breath then looked around. He supposed they must have set off already and would be somewhere along the riverbank, so he jogged along the track.

Charlotte again sought to break free of the centre of the throng. She picked her way through to the edge of the group as they listened to the storyteller. Turning back, her eyes searched again for Harry. He must be nearby now.

“Dick Turpin rides this path!”

At her ear was Ray, his jaw pecking towards her as he warbled tales of ghostly highwaymen and where to find them.

Ray circled the group making them laugh and jump in equal measure. When he finished his highwaymen tale, he flapped his cloak dramatically around him and took flight to the next destination.

Harry heard the storyteller’s voice and rushed to join the group. He couldn’t see Charlotte; it was so dark. He didn’t want to call out her name as the guide was in the midst of reciting anecdotes of highwaymen and tavern landlords.

Charlotte now found herself forced to the head of the bunch, uncomfortably close to Ray. This was not the evening she had expected. Hopefully Harry would catch up soon.

As the group crossed towards the illuminated tower, she glanced backwards towards the river paths. An unusual looking shadowy clutch of bodies had congregated and amongst them she spied Harry.

Typical. He’s with the wrong party.

Charlotte didn’t remember noticing the other group earlier but gave it little thought. Whilst the others in her party were gazing mesmerised at the tower she stepped out of line to dash back, to grab Harry so they could continue the tour together.

“Where are you going?” twittered Ray, creepily close again. Before she could explain he folded his foisty black coverings around her; earthy warmth clinging to her shoulders smelling of rot.

“Let me take you under my wing.”

Harry now realised he was not where he should be. Raising his head above the others he observed a large figure swoop upon Charlotte. Angry at both his own tardiness and the stranger’s manhandling of his girl, Harry lunged through the bodies. They reacted angrily.

Thunderous beating sounds pounded his ears. He was drawn backwards, hauled in by frenzied beings, pecked and clawed. Harry stumbled, his jacket ripped from him. He was snared and as the trampling began, he submitted to the terror.

Ray moved slowly into the tower shadows, he resumed his tour speech pulling Charlotte inside his greasy feathered overcoat. Its fluffy inner warmth muffled Charlotte’s cries and smothered her. She became weak.

Rumbling of heavy boots over towards the tower stirred panic within Ray and he flapped away to the shadows, taking Charlotte with him.

The apologetic boot-wearer, Pat, announced himself to the crowd as their guide for the evening. He had been delayed … profound apologies … was everyone okay?

A puzzled member of the group began to talk about their guide Ray when a screech of pain illuminated the night air. An enormous dark hooded shadow clumsily took flight. Within its clutches there appeared a woman, lifted higher and then upwards to the sky.

Gasps of astonishment, applause and appreciation for the amazing act twittered through the crowd. Only the current host, Pat, remained silent.

Harry’s eyes scanned the skies. He watched Charlotte’s captor, now in full raven form, settled on a pillar with his prey.

Harry used one last surge of strength and propelled his suffering frame across the ground, fleeing the grasp of his own murderous flock.

Harry cried out and caught off guard, Ray loosened his grip. Charlotte fell.

The commotion caused crowds of bodies to surge around the river trails.

Harry’s torturous group morphed into their natural forms and screeched away across the skies followed by a large, dejected raven.

A whisper breezed through the trees. “Catch me Harry.”

Charlotte’s fall was broken by a tree, before she plunged towards the ground.

Harry stretched out his arms but, arrived late.

He died from his mysterious injuries, soon after Charlotte.

The storyteller now has a new tale to tell of The Raven, the Girl and her Sweetheart.

If you look carefully, through the trees, near the tower, you might just glimpse two chasing shadows, one trying to catch up with the other.

Joanne Campbell

Joanne Campbell lives in Yorkshire in the North of England and write short stories and flash fiction with an ambition to eventually pen a novel. Her passion is and always has been for the dark, supernatural, spooky world.

She loves discovering tales from ‘new’ writers and have found some great talent out there such as Michael Leese author of Going Underground (Jonathan Roper British autistic detective) who she discovered via a Kindle free offer.

Some of her flash fiction stories has been published in two anthologies by Otley writers –

‘The Pulse of Everything’ and ‘The Darkening Season.’ Both are available to buy on Amazon.

Her aim for the coming year is to update her newly set up Word Press blog https://jocampbellcreepycreations.wordpress.com and begin that novel.

Contact

The house was reputedly haunted. We decided to explore.
“Hold my hand,” she whispered.
We climbed the stairs. The landing was pitch black.
“I don’t like this,” she said.
Her hand slipped away. Blindly, I reached out. For a few frozen moments I couldn’t find her. I encountered a hand in the darkness.
“Let’s go,” I said.
I lead the way, back towards the top of the stairs. I looked down. She was standing near the open front door. She glanced up at me, her face terrified. I stood, frozen in a paroxysm of fear. Whose hand was I holding?

RJ Meldrum

R. J. Meldrum is an author and academic. Born in Scotland, he moved to Ontario, Canada in 2010 with his wife Sally. His interest in the supernatural is a lifetime obsession and when he isn’t writing ghost stories, he’s busy scouring the shelves of antique book-sellers to increase his collection of rare and vintage supernatural books. During the winter months, he trains and races his own team of sled dogs.
He has had stories published by Sirens Call Publications, Horrified Press, Trembling with Fear, Darkhouse Books, Digital Fiction and James Ward Kirk Fiction.
You can find out more about RJ at his homepage.

Pillow Talk

Beloved hush now. Do not struggle so. You cannot break the binds that tie. Lay your head upon the pillow I’ve fetched from our marital bed. Here be a dozen candles for you to see by. Let me wrap you in your second favourite woollen cloak, lest you catch a chill from the earth seeping into your casket. Here is my final bequest; the gift of light. A box of Lucifers. Aptly named.

Remember to bid the Devil, ‘Hello’. I am sure you will be seeing him. Do use these strikes sparingly. You have eternity, my love.

Rest in peace.

Alyson Faye

Alyson lives in West Yorkshire with her family and 3 rescue cats. She teaches creative writing classes, writes noir Flash Fiction and ghost stories. She is one of the writers in ‘Women in Horror Annual 2’, in Raging Aardvark’s ‘Twisted Tales’, her stories can be downloaded at www.alfiedog.com as well as being available on various sites like zeroflash/Tubeflash/101 words/three drops from a cauldron. Her flash fiction debut collection, ‘Badlands’ is out now from indie publisher Chapeltown Books – here’s the interview http://www.chapeltownpublishing.uk/2018/01/badlands-by-alyson-faye.html and is available to buy from amazon.

You can find out more on her blog- www.alysonfayewordpress.wordpress.com

or at her amazon author page http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B01NBYSLRT

Premonition

I wake to agony. I’m inside a coffin. I hear the crackling, feel the heat. It takes seconds to realize my wife has done this. Drugged me, got her pet doctor to sign the certificate and then cremated me. I thump against the wood, but it’s too late. I’m done for.

I wake to cool sheets and a sense of relief. Just a nightmare. My wife and the doctor peer down at me.  She smiles.

“You know, I do believe he knows our plans.”

“Impossible. We’ve been too careful.”

I see the syringe in his hand. I try to scream.

RJ Meldrum

R. J. Meldrum is an author and academic. Born in Scotland, he moved to Ontario, Canada in 2010 with his wife Sally. His interest in the supernatural is a lifetime obsession and when he isn’t writing ghost stories, he’s busy scouring the shelves of antique book-sellers to increase his collection of rare and vintage supernatural books. During the winter months, he trains and races his own team of sled dogs.
He has had stories published by Sirens Call Publications, Horrified Press, Trembling with Fear, Darkhouse Books, Digital Fiction and James Ward Kirk Fiction.
You can find out more about RJ at his homepage.

Red Was His Colour

Red was his colour. Red rags, red mist, red-handed. Dawn had worn his brand for years on her crimson-slashed back and maroon-masked stomach, a heart in a bruise, bleeding. She longed for a change, anything to wash away the stain. She preferred ivory, its cold tone, its sense of peace; the grave-bound bones of the babies she had denied him wore this shade. Dawn made his new bed alongside them, earthy and shallow, ready for him to lie in it. She poured him a glass of his favourite red and added granules of ivory. A poisonous combination. Like their marriage.

Stephanie Ellis

Stephanie Ellis is a UK-based writer of dark fiction. Her poems, short stories and novella have appeared in a variety of magazines and anthologies. She has written a novel which she is hoping to get published and is currently at work on a second. Steph is an active member of the FlashDogs flash fiction online writing community and is also co-editor at The Infernal Clock, a fledgling publishing effort which has so far produced two well-received anthologies, The Infernal Clock and CalenDark, The Infernal Almanac. She reviews ARCs on occasion for Crystal Lake Publishing, is on the review team at HorrorAddicts.net, and is a beta reader. Steph currently works with secondary school students developing their literacy skills. In the past she worked as a senior software author in a technical publications company. She lives in Southampton with her husband and 3 children.
https://stephellis.weebly.com/

Articles

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Horror Tree Update: Take Your Writing Career To The Moon This “June”!

It’s June, and that means warmer weather, Father’s day, and hopefully a great month for your writing! We’re hoping that the change in seasons will inspire you to be that much more creative this year. If you’re not feeling it, I’d like to point out that it is also the Summer Solstice and World Blood Donor day this month. Both of these could quite easily inspire some speculative fiction so do try to stay festive with what is going on if you are hitting a sticking point while putting pen to paper.

Side note, as a father myself I do stress that you, please give your father a hand this month on something if you’re on good terms with yours!

This is going to be a bit of a brief update. Usually, I am finishing up this post a day or so before it is going live and this is being written about a week in advance due to a combination of a vacation and a HUGE project at the day job which has me pretty swamped on things.

That being said, let’s move forward with the update!

Seriously once again a huge thanks to everyone who donates to our Patreon. We’ve had two new patreons sign on to help out the site the last month which will be a huge help going forward. THANK YOU NEW AND OLD PATREONS. I can’t stress enough that even an extra dollar a month helps us expand the site.

Last month we added a few donation levels so please be sure to check out the Patreon page for more details!

These new levels will help us pay all of our contributors sooner if we can make those goals!

We are super ahead on short stories for this year and are loving how much quality work is hitting the TWF inbox! We’re still a bit light on drabbles but are still planned ahead pretty far at this point. You’re all rocking the writing and we love you for it!

If you’ve been loving any of these shorts please be sure to comment on the post that contains them so that the authors can hear what you think!

Oh, wait, you’re probably still reading because you want an update on the anthology aren’t you. It looks like we’re closing in on the finish line and I think we should be wrapping things up in the very near future to launch it!

What Is New At The Horror Tree?!

What Is About To Grow At The Horror Tree?

Last month we referenced an interactive game which was in the works, and as soon as a bit of artwork has been finalized, we’re going to be launching it! This is a fun little distraction that we hope you’ll be able to enjoy.

Also, we have thoughts on launching some videos which will be mini-roundups of articles and potentially some of the Trembling With Fear drabbles. We’re still working out the details on that second aspect though!

A Brief Update!

Once again, we’re trying to share how the Horror Tree is growing socially. One of these days I will figure out exactly how to really grow these avenues and if you have any suggestions please be sure to reach out!

  • Horror Tree’s Twitter – Moved from 6634 to 6646 followers. Our lowest jump in months but it at least was a positive move!
  • Horror Tree’s Facebook – Minor bump in readers here. We had 1706 and went up to 1734! Slightly larger bump than last month!
  • Horror Tree’s Instagram – Now this one had a decent bump in views! Last month we ended up with 188 and this month we’ve jumped up to 223. While there isn’t many readers coming into the site from Instagram, we are getting a TON of views here from author quotes alone and will likely start posting articles and more there soon!
  • Horror Tree’s Pinterest – Here we jumped from 8 to 10 followers though have a ton of non-follower views.
  • Horror Tree’s YouTube launched with a single video! So far, 18 subscribers! Not a ton, but nto bad with how little I’ve had time to promote or add to it!

As always, I hope we’re helping you out and we’d love to see your comments with any suggestions or thoughts on what we’re doing! Thanks for being a reader!

Trembling With Fear

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Trembling With Fear 05/27/2018

Submission Guidelines – don’t groan. Please can I politely ask anyone who submits to just check over their work against our guidelines before they send it in. One bugbear of mine is having to deal with stories sent within an email. Our submissions procedure involves transferring stories into an ‘Unread’ file, really easy to do with an attachment but when it’s within an email, I have to cut and paste it from the email into a new document. Another dislike, which luckily doesn’t happen too often, is writing content which is too ‘extreme’ for TWF. Yes, we publish horror and yes, there is violence and pain and scary stuff but no erotica, porn or graphic sex and definitely no child abuse. Remember to check your word counts as well for longer flash stories. We are flexible but there is still a limit. If you want to sub a longer story, look at turning it into a serial. We could do with a few more of those. And my last moan, please could I also ask that if you are going to write to us, give us a name to reply to – even if you use initials as your byline. I feel extremely awkward just replying to someone with a ‘Hi’ because I don’t know their name, I feel as though I’m being rude (it’s that very British thing about good manners😊). I know I’ve said some of this before but …

Gripe over.

Now on a happier note, I’d like to say thank you to everyone for their birthday wishes recently. I had a lovely day and increased my TBR pile considerably. One of the books was Guillermo del Torro and Chuck Hogan’s The Night Eternal. It is the last instalment of a vampire trilogy which so far, I would highly recommend. I am aware it is a TV series but I haven’t been able to catch that yet. I should be reading a book for review but I snuck this one in ahead. I’ve still got a while to the deadline …

And finally, here’s a website I would recommend http://gingernutsofhorror.com/index.html. Whilst reviewing books, films and working tirelessly to support all things horror, they also offer writers guest post slots amongst other features. Follow them via twitter @jimbomcleod.

Stephanie Ellis

Editor, Trembling With Fear

As you read this, I am on vacation so I’m going to keep it short and sweet (that has been happening a lot lately hasn’t it? The short and sweet, not the vacations.)

I hope you all have a great weekend getting your writing in and would love to see some serials hit our inbox if anyone else is interested in contributing any!

‘Trembling With Fear’ Is Horror Tree’s weekly inclusion of shorts and drabbles submitted for your entertainment by our readers! As long as the submissions are coming in, we’ll be posting every Sunday for your enjoyment.

Stuart Conover

Editor, Horror Tree

The Sledge

“Do this: and you will live.”

Our city lives – just – I can hear its slow heartbeat: the metronome from the radio that ticks once every two seconds, broadcast when there is no music and nothing to say.

I open the kitchen drawer. I know which knife Mama meant.

They have carried her down the stairs and put her on the sledge. We drew lots: Papa, Tyotka; Nadia. It fell to me – Nadia – to take her across the park. She’ll stay there until the spring when the earth softens and she can have a proper burial.

Tiny snow nips my face in the late morning twilight. I take the strain of the rope on my shoulder. The sledge – the one I used to ride, laughing, with Mama – jolts from its frozen grip: we’re moving.

The road crossing is smooth but the park is heavy going. Breaths come laboured through Papa’s woollen scarf. The rope twists into my hands through thin mittens.

“Don’t stop. Keep going till you get to the fir trees: and you will live.”

But I can’t: the sledge has jammed on a lump in the ground and won’t budge. My strength is gone. My stomach is collapsing; the cold is starting to chew at my fingers.

What do they taste like..?

I fall to my knees: pull the knife from the deep pocket of Papa’s coat: study the rough steel blade.

Mama’s face is hidden: wrapped in a shawl, but the fringe only just covers her neck. She’d meant me to halt just up there, out of the wind: out of sight…

I can’t bear it.

But she’d said, “Nadia, it won’t be the first time I’ve fed you. Just imagine it’s borsch.”

I turn over the knife.

We used to have meat.

I feel sick.

But she’d said, “What if you were an artist? And you spent fourteen years creating something beautiful: something that should live on after you? And then it just curled up and faded away: how would you feel?”

I stab at the lump that’s stopped the sledge.

Paper rips.

Paper! You can eat that!

I tear it and stuff it in my mouth: the savoury taste delights.

It’s stuck round something, wrapping it. I thump the block to move it. It crumbles: rich_

Bread!

I scrabble at the dark, frozen lump: press its fragments to my face, to my open mouth. I shut my eyes: take in the gorgeous scent. A tiny warm spark lights, takes hold, deep inside.

I can keep going…

#

The man hands me Mama’s outdoor clothes: her fur coat, scarf and boots. He frowns at her bare hands: no rings.

“Would you like tea?”

“No… Thanks. I’d better get back. It’s getting dark.”

His face isn’t yellow and lined.

His hands aren’t bony.

He doesn’t even stoop.

And I’d never have noticed that furtive look if I hadn’t been alert: my senses revived by the bread.

I’ll keep going now.

The siege will lift.

The spring will come.

And we will live.

END

C.L. Spillard

C.L. Spillard is a complex interplay of matter and energy in wave-patterns whose probability cloud is densest in York, U.K.

 

The moon landings influenced the young pattern’s self-awareness mechanisms, igniting lifelong interest in Physics and in humanity’s plight on Earth.

 

C.L. Spillard’s wave-pattern enjoys proximity to a second pattern originating in St Petersburg (Russia), and these two have since generated two younger ones who are now diffusing over the planet stuffing themselves with knowledge as if it were going out of fashion.

 

C.L. Spillard authored stories published in Mad Scientist Journal, Flash Frontier and three anthologies, the latest being ‘Steampunk Universe’ (ed. Sarah Hans).  She has two ‘Science in SF’ pieces on Dan Koboldt’s page.

 

She claims full responsibility for the recently-published fantasy ‘The Price of Time’.

 

www.cspillardwriter.co.uk

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Price-Time-C-L-Spillard/dp/0956046983/

 

Preservation

We could wait them out.  Entropy was our ally.  Zombies reaved the Earth, so we hid and waited.  For however strong, savage, unstoppable, the zombies were necrotizing tissue.  Dead flesh and bone, animated yet decomposing.  We pledged patience, enduring while the zombies decayed.  We forgot about formaldehyde.  Zombies didn’t rise the moment life’s spark fled, they sat up on funeral homes’ steel tables, veins filled with tissue fixatives.  So obvious in hindsight.  When the first zombies attacked, they drew close and claimed their victims easily, because they hardly looked dead at all.  Smooth skin, rosy cheeks: their makeup was flawless.

Dale W. Glaser

DALE W. GLASER is a collector, re-teller and occasional inventor of fantasy tales.  He requires air, food, water and stories in order to survive, not necessarily in that order.  His lifelong love of written words has manifested as a devotion to the English language almost exclusively, which is probably just as well because if he were to master any of the dead tongues that conceal ancient mysteries and invoke malevolent forces, we’d all be in trouble.  His short stories have been published in magazines such as Cheapjack Pulp, Occult Detective Quarterly, and Trysts of Fate, as well as anthologies such as Final Masquerade, Eldritch Embraces and Carnival of Fear. He currently lives in Virginia with his wife and three children. He can be found online at https://dalewglaser.wordpress.com.   

New Sight

“We need a Peninsula Trail map,” Bobby told the store clerk.

“I can show you,” old Eugene offered, waving a wrinkled hand towards clouded blue eyes. “Sight’s gone, but I’ve walked the trail for years.”

Bobby and Sarah hesitated, shared a skeptical look, and accepted.

Eugene guided them along ocean cliffs leading down into lush green woods.

“It’s beautiful,” Sarah commented, embarrassed for doubting their guide.

Later, wiping the blood off his fresh, young skin, Eugene blinked with Bobby’s brown eyes. They were still sensitive in his skull, but harvesting the couple had revitalized him. Every sight felt new again.

Catherine Berry

Catherine Berry lives in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. When she isn’t working, she’s spending time with loved ones or satisfying her varied hobbies. Her work has previously been published in Horror Tree’s Trembling With Fear.

 

More of her work can be found at www.caterinaberyl.blogspot.com

I Cannot Allow You To Touch Me

Why not? What will happen? Will you disintegrate, vampire-style? I won’t simply stretch out my hand; I respect your words. But I need to know. Are you a ghost? A virtual being inside a computer?

Some questions demand answers. Before she left, my wife said I’m obsessed. Do I only hallucinate you? But you aren’t even my type. Infectious disease? Just tell me! You owe me that much, after all you’re costing me.

You’ve left me no choice but to stage this accident. Take my hand and live, refuse and drop thirty storeys. Come on, let me find out. Please …

Tobias Radloff

I am a writer from Germany who lives and works in Belfast, preferrably with a cat on my lap. I write in German and English (sometimes both at the same time), and among my publications are novels, short stories and poetry encompassing a multitude of genres including fantasy, thriller, and historic fiction. Homepage: https://www.tobias-radloff.de

The Half Elf’s Triumph

Zelly bent to the stream, cupping water to wash dirt and blood from her face.
One eye swollen shut, it was a battle well fought.
Her kind wasn’t known to take on a troll single-handedly.
A deep rumble caused her to turn.
The troll stirred.
Lifeless.
Dark magic now animated the corpse.
Grasping her halberd, there was no time to think.
Racing past the undead as it steadied itself.
Into the forest beyond.
In the shadows, the enchanter was lost in his possession of the beast.
As her ax swung down, it would be the last mistake he ever made.

Stuart Conover

All Fathers, Cthulhu, Gods, Demons, all fall before Stuart as he goes about his daily routine!
Well, his pen at least.
Keyboard even.
Now if he could only have “The End” fall into the last page of his current WIP!
Your resident Horror Tree editor has snuck in a drabble past Steph this week and hopes you enjoy!

Magazine / Ongoing Submissions / Pro

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Ongoing Submissions: Asimov’s Science Fiction

Payment: 8-10 cents per word for short stories up to 7,500 words, and 8 cents for each word over 7,500.

Payment & Rights

Asimov’s Science Fiction magazine is an established market for science fiction stories. Asimov’s pays 8-10 cents per word for short stories up to 7,500 words, and 8 cents for each word over 7,500. We seldom buy stories shorter than 1,000 words or longer than 20,000 words, and we don’t serialize novels. We pay $1 a line for poetry, which should not exceed 40 lines. We buy First English Language serial rights plus certain non-exclusive rights explained in our contract. We do not publish reprints, and we do not accept “simultaneous submissions” (stories sent at the same time to a publication other than Asimov’s). Asimov’s will consider material submitted by any writer, previously published or not. We’ve bought some of our best stories from people who have never sold a story before.

Story Content

In general, we’re looking for “character oriented” stories, those in which the characters, rather than the science, provide the main focus for the reader’s interest. Serious, thoughtful, yet accessible fiction will constitute the majority of our purchases, but there’s always room for the humorous as well. SF dominates the fiction published in the magazine, but we also publish borderline fantasy, slipstream, and surreal fiction. No sword & Sorcery, please. Neither are we interested in explicit sex or violence. A good overview would be to consider that all fiction is written to examine or illuminate some aspect of human existence, but that in science fiction the backdrop you work against is the size of the Universe.

Electronic Submission and Manuscript Format

Asimov’s now uses an Online Submissions System that has been designed to streamline our process and improve communication with authors. We do not accept email submissions. Please see Manual Submission Guidelines for information about paper submissions.

Our online submissions form for fiction asks for your name, email address, cover letter, story title, and story. Cover letter is optional. If you choose to include it, it should contain the length of your story and your publishing history. Story word count can, and should, also be indicated in the upper right corner of the first page of the manuscript. We ask for the same information for poetry. Please fill out a separate form for each poem submitted for consideration. All stories and poems should be in standard manuscript format and can be submitted in .RTF or .DOC format. For information about standard formatting, see William Shunn’s guide to Proper Manuscript Format. After you have submitted your work, a tracking number will be displayed and an automated email confirmation containing this information will be sent to you. If you have not received this email within twenty-four hours, please notify us by email. Your tracking number will allow you to monitor the status of your submission through our website, so please don’t lose it.

NOTE: Yahoo.com occasionally treats our email as spam, please keep an eye on your spam folder.

Reply Process

Our average response time runs about five weeks. If you have not heard from us in three months, you can query us about the submission at [email protected]. Thanks for your interest in Asimov’s and good luck!

Manual Submission and Manuscript Format

Manuscripts submitted to Asimov’s must be neatly typed, double-spaced on one side of the sheet only, on bond paper (no erasable paper, please). Any manuscript longer than 5 pages should be mailed to us flat. Dot matrix printouts are acceptable only if they are easily readable. Please do NOT send us submissions on disk. When using a word processor, please do not justify the right margin. If sending a printout, separate the sheets first. The manuscript should include the title, your name and address, and the number of words in your story. Enclose a cover letter if you like. All manuscripts must be accompanied by a self-addressed stamped envelope (if manuscript is over 5 pages, use a 9” x 12” envelope) carrying enough postage to return the manuscript If you wish to save on postage, you may submit a clear copy of your story along with a standard (#10) envelope, also self-addressed and stamped. Mark your manuscript “DISPOSABLE,” and you will receive our reply only. We do not suggest that you have us dispose of your original typescript. If you live overseas or in Canada, use International Reply Coupons for postage, along with a self-addressed envelope.

Via: Asimov’s Science Fiction.

Closed Markets

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NO LONGER ONGOING: Little Blue Marble

Little Blue Marble now uses submission windows and pays more. We will make posts as we see these windows open.

Payment: $0.05 a word for original works up to 2000 words. We offer $0.01 a word for reprints. (CA Rates)

Please note that while we do pay for original content (see rates below), Little Blue Marble’s current operating budget supports only one or two paid pieces per month. As we grow, we will be happy to increase that number and our pay rates. If all our paid slots are filled, but you would still like to support our mission, we do appreciate and accept content donated under a Creative Commons Attribution No Derivatives license. Donated content must still undergo editorial approval.

We welcome submissions from writers anywhere. We value inclusivity, no matter your race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, nationality, class, and physical or mental ability. No stone should remain unturned when discussing climate solutions, and we want our content to reflect that.

FICTION

What we’re looking for: We publish speculative fiction that examines humanity’s possible futures living with anthropogenic climate change. We prefer fiction with a hopeful outlook, but the occasional dystopia might fit too. While science is an important piece for solving the climate change puzzle, we challenge writers to also examine our existing social, cultural, political, and economic frameworks and envision new ones to help see us through to a better, more sustainable world.

Please see this interview at Six Questions For … if you’d like more details.

Word count limits:

• Original fiction: 2000 words
• Reprints: 5000 words

NON-FICTION

What we’re looking for: Articles and essays on climate change, and profiles of people on the front lines of climate work in the 1000-2000 word range. If possible, please include links to your published work elsewhere or other writing samples.

Before sending us any non-fiction, please send us fully outlined pitches on specific topics.

Please do not send us Q&A-style interviews, video blogging, Kickstarter projects, promotional/marketing materials, or reviews.

Upon publication, contributors receive a byline, a short bio at the end of each published post, and are listed as a Little Blue Marble contributor.

HOW TO SUBMIT

All submissions should be sent to submissions (at) littlebluemarble (dot) ca.

If submitting fiction, please put FICTION SUBMISSION – STORY TITLE in the subject line.

If submitting a non-fiction proposal, please put NON-FICTION SUBMISSION – ARTICLE TITLE in the subject line.

If you are submitting content you are willing to donate under a Creative Commons Attribution No Derivatives license, please indicate so somewhere in your submission e-mail.

Submission format: All submissions should be in standard manuscript format, double spaced with a legible font. Submissions should be in .RTF or .DOCX format.

Little Blue Marble accepts works that have been previously published elsewhere. Please state in your submission if this work is a reprint.

We do not accept multiple submissions. You may only submit one story at a time. You may submit another once we have responded to your first submission.

Little Blue Marble accepts simultaneous submissions with other venues. If your story, however, is accepted by a different venue, as a courtesy to us please immediately withdraw your submission from Little Blue Marble.

WHAT WE PAY

All payment is in Canadian dollars.

We offer $0.05 a word for original works up to 2000 words. We offer $0.01 a word for reprints.

Payment will be made by Paypal, or alternatively, for Canadians only, via e-mail money transfer.

Via: Little Blue Marble.