Category: Trembling With Fear

Trembling With Fear 7-23-23

Hello, children of the dark. You lot are keen beans, eh? Since we announced we’d soon reopen to short story submissions, a few eager beavers have snuck into the inbox already. It’s great to see enthusiasm, but please note anything submitted to us before we officially re-open next month will not be read. You will need to keep it and re-submit it when we open. We won’t be keeping hold of the pieces to add them to the list when the time comes – that kinda defeats the purpose of having submissions windows! 

Which brings me to the matter of those short story submissions. One of the things I love about the role I play here at HorrorTree.com is the ability to nurture and support new writers. So many of our submitters are taking that leap for the first time, nervous about how it might go – even nervous about having to write a bio because they’ve never done it before. I don’t want to lose that about TWF; it’s one of the great things about it…

However, I can tell you that we’re going to need to be much tougher on short stories in future. 

We’re all volunteers with lives and jobs and other commitments, so we don’t have the time to sit and go back and forth with writers multiple times to help stories to take shape. Whereas before we might’ve taken a chance on a writer that we could see had potential but needed a lot of nurturing, we may now need to send that writer on their way with some feedback but not a potential acceptance. If we don’t, we’ll end up with another year-long backlog of acceptances and will need to close again to subs, which we don’t want to do. It’s not fair on you, the wonderful community of darkly speculative humans (and other creatures). 

If we do face another onslaught – and part of me hopes we do, because it’s wonderful to see so much enthusiasm for genre writing out there! – we’ll need to consider other options. Like having a quarterly subs window. Or even an annual one. Who knows. It all depends on how the coming months take shape.

However, there’s still plenty of space for new TWF subs this week. We are always, always looking for drabbles, and it’s also the dying days to sub to our summer special. Get your summer shorts and drabbles in by the end of July via our submissions page, and our lovely specials editor Shalini will review and make her choices for our summer special edition.

But for now, let’s turn to the reason you’re here: it’s time for this week’s offerings on the TWF menu. For this week’s short story, Paul R. Panossian explores the abandoned cabin in the woods. This is followed by three delicious quick bites:

  • Matt Krizan is counting drips,
  • Ken MacGregor faces excitement in a pub, and 
  • Emma Burnett has a secret to share.

Over to you, Stuart.

Lauren McMenemy

Editor, Trembling With Fear

I’m officially in between MBA classes and The Great Reading has begun! There is a lot of progress on our two anthologies and I’m hoping the reading and proofing will be done in the next week as we’re really behind on our TWF release. 

For those who are looking to connect with Horror Tree on places that aren’t Twitter, we’re also in BlueSky and Threads. *I* am also now on BlueSky and Threads. Though, no promises on how active we’ll be on either until after this semester.

If you’d like to extend your support to the site, we’d be thrilled to welcome your contributions through Ko-Fi or Patreon. Your generosity keeps us fueled and fired up to bring you the very best.

Stuart Conover

Editor, Horror Tree

(more…)

Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang

  1. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang
  2. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang
  3. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang
  4. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang
  5. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang
  6. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang
  7. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang

 

Willie the Clown: Part Four

 

CHAPTER 7

 

    There were only ever a few times when I was ever allowed out of the tiny pantry. On holidays, and when people were coming over to visit.

   I remember one day when I was actually allowed out. It was a rainy day, and I think my father was expecting people over to watch some stupid football game. He was cooking hamburgers inside the house, and smoke filled the entire house, making the smoke alarm go off. After a series of curse words from my father, he managed to extinguish the fire and continue cooking. 

   After the burgers are ready, to my surprise, he hands me a plate.

  “Here,” he says.

   I quickly snatch the plastic plate from his hands and stare at the burger for a solid minute before I start devouring it. The burger was very burnt, but I didn’t care. Food was food. And I hardly ever got any of it. 

   “You don’t say a word to anyone about you livin in the pantry. Ya hear? Say a word to anybody, and you’re dead. Got it?”

   My father glares at me with absolute hatred and disgust as I eat the burger. I almost forget to answer him since I’m eating. But I vigorously nod my head as I continue stuffing my face with the delicious, very charred, burger. 

    Pretty soon, people begin to arrive at the house, and the place is filled with laughter and happiness. Everyone is drinking as they shout at the tv, cheering for whatever football team that they’re rooting for. 

   I guess the fact that my father just threatened my life never really registered with me. It seemed to have flown over my head. I was too distracted by all the commotion and loud noises to fully understand what he’d said. I was just so happy to be out of the pantry and have a decent meal for once. It was nice to watch some tv, even though I had absolutely no idea what was going on. 

   “Hey Jim where’s the goddamn beer?! I’m still thirsty over here!” One of my father’s friends yells, busting my eardrums.

   “Here in the kitchen. I thought I told ya to bring your own!” My father yells, anger in his voice.

   When mostly everyone is in the kitchen eating during commercials on the tv, I stay in the living room and watch the commercials. Suddenly, a commercial for Halloween comes on, and the commercial seems like it’s advertising different costumes. They look pretty scary, but none of them really frighten me. As the costumes continue flashing in front of my eyes, I see one that catches my attention. 

   For a split second, I see an image of a brightly colored “clown” costume. I tilt my head with curiosity. Why would a clown costume be advertised in a Halloween commercial? Aren’t they just supposed to be funny?

    “Dad, why did they show a clown costume?” I ask. 

    “Huh? Oh, some people are afraid of clowns, I guess. That’s why they dress up like them on Halloween. To scare people,” my father explains. 

   I’m surprised that I even got an answer from him at all. Usually when I try to speak to my father, he either ignores me or hits me. But I know he’s only answering me now because we have guests over. 

  For some reason, the fact that clowns could be both funny and scary at the same time fascinated me. Up until this point, I never knew some people thought clowns were terrifying. 

    Scary clowns…so cool…I think.

 

CHAPTER 8 

 

   Paige and I hold each other as we watch the clown tie up Cameron. The clown dances around him, laughing hysterically and talking complete nonsense as he finishes tying him up. 

   “I know!” The clown exclaims after a while, making both Paige and I jump, “Let’s play my favorite game! You do know what that is right? My audience knows what it is!”

   I feel my anxiety worsen as I can’t understand what this psychotic clown is saying. 

   Audience? What audience? 

   I scan the room frantically, trying to figure out what the hell he means. Soon, my eyes pan over towards an old-fashioned tv set that sits in front of where Cam is. I didn’t notice it before because of how terrified I am right now. Confusion overwhelms me as I still try to understand what he means. 

   Suddenly, the clown rushes over towards the TV set and picks up a microphone that was on the floor. He taps it a couple of times, giggling as he does so.

   “Hello everybody!! Welcome to another episode of Willie’s Whacky Fun Show! As promised, I have a new guest here with me today! He was very naughty and intruded in my home, so we’re going to play a little game…RUSSIAN ROULETTE! MY FAVORITE!! 

   I know everybody knows the rules, but I’ll explain them for any newcomers! If the boy doesn’t get shot by the end of the six rounds we’ll play, then he wins! If I get shot, I lose! Now, who’s ready to play?!” 

    My heart rate picks up at an incredible speed as panic courses through me. What the…what the hell was going on here? I try to wrap my brain around what I’ve just seen. The clown was speaking into a microphone and talking to his TV. As I look around, the TV seems to be connected to a series of long wires that wrap along the walls of the tunnels. Suddenly, my heart drops as I realize what’s happening. This clown was broadcasting everything that was happening to Cam on TV. Live TV. 

   But it didn’t make any sense. If he was broadcasting his own show live, wouldn’t there be millions of viewers coming to rescue us? Wouldn’t they be appalled at what they were witnessing? Wouldn’t our family and friends be trying to come find us? 

   I think hard for a minute…then, I gasp as I realize something. Not everyone could be watching the clown’s sick TV show. Maybe…maybe you had to pay to watch it? Was that how it worked? The longer I think about it, the more it makes sense. 

   Paige and I scream in terror when we see the clown pull out a pistol. I sob hysterically, tears streaming down my face as I watch the clown loads his revolver. 

   “CAM! PLEASE DON’T HURT HIM, I LOVE HIM! PLEASE, KILL ME INSTEAD! JUST DON’T KILL HIM!” I yell, my throat raw from screaming. 

    “Shut up, little kitty!! Or you’ll be playing Russian roulette next!” The clown snaps at me, making me jump. 

   “Now, let’s begin shall we?! I’ll go first. I really hope I don’t die!” The clown shrieks, laughing his head off as he pulls the trigger. 

   I hold my breath scared out of my mind. I can’t even imagine how Cam feels, and what’s going through his head right now. I can see him hyperventilating as he sits there, bound to his chair. Completely unable to move. 

   Suddenly, the clown pulls the trigger and we all scream. I cover my eyes, terrified to look in case someone gets shot. 

   But when I peak through my hands, no bullet has been fired. Both Cameron and the clown are still alive. 

    I breathe a small sigh of relief. 

    “Guess we both got lucky that time! Hahahaha!” The clown laughs as he places his hand on the trigger again. 

   “Maddie, listen to me. I love you ok? I’m so sorry that I dragged us into this. It-it’s all my fault. I’m so so sorry. Just know that I love you; I always have!” Cameron suddenly says, tears streaming down his face. 

   I shake my head, “Don’t you dare start saying that stuff! You’re going to be ok you hear me?!”

   Cameron hangs his head as he starts sobbing uncontrollably. I feel my entire body tremble with fear as I watch the clown place the gun to his head as he starts the second round of the game. 

   “Hey! Let Cameron go! PLEASE! I love him, don’t hurt him, I’m begging you!” I cry at the top of my voice. 

   “Please, please just let him go!” Paige begs.

    The clown lowers his gun then begins walking over towards me and Paige again. I know we’ve made him mad, but I don’t care. I’m trying to save Cameron’s life. 

   “I thought I told you kitties to be quiet. You’re ruining our game!” He yells. 

    “AHH!” I cry out. 

     Suddenly, I feel an electric shock so powerful on my neck that it makes me collapse onto the ground. I cry out in pain and twitch a little as electricity shoots through my neck. I can even feel it in my back and face.

    “Maddie! Oh God, Maddie!” Cam screams. 

   “Maddie!” Paige exclaims, kneeling down to help me. 

   “That oughta teach you kitties to listen to me. Now back to my game!”

   The clown proceeds to skip happily over towards Cameron. I desperately try to get up, but I can’t even open my eyes since I’m in so much pain. Paige shakes me gently, trying to get me to wake up, but it’s no use. My head throbs so much and my neck feels like it’s on fire. 

    Eventually, I do wake back up. Paige helps me lift my head, and I rest it on her shoulders, feeling weak. We keep watching helplessly as the clown continues his sadistic game. 

   “Let’s begin round 2 shall we?! Me first again!!” The clown exclaims. 

   He puts his finger on the trigger and pulls it. No bullet is fired again.

   “YAYY I SURVIVED! Your turn little boy!” The clown screams, pointing the gun at Cameron’s temple. 

    “Wait, please! Stop!” Cameron begs, his entire body shaking with fear.

   The clown pulls the trigger, and suddenly, a loud BANG goes off, echoing throughout the tunnels. When I see what’s just happened, I feel like I’m going to pass out. 

   Cameron is slumped over in his chair, blood pouring from his temple. As I look closer at him, I see that he’s not moving whatsoever.

    My heart sinks as I realize that Cameron is dead.

Trembling With Fear 7-16-23

Hello, children of the dark. In my race last week to announce our re-opening to short story submissions, I totally missed a milestone: it’s now been a whole year since I took over leading this publication from the inimitable Stephanie Ellis. A whole year! I can’t believe it either.

So in celebration/commiseration, I thought I’d share five things I’ve noticed about you, our wonderful writers and readers, in that time.

  1. We have some prolific regular subbers! A quick shout-out to those writers who are in our inbox a lot with fresh tales. We appreciate you.
  2. There’s an ebb and flow to submissions, with peaks in summer and, unsurprisingly, at Halloween. But we’re always open, so you don’t have to wait until specific periods to get your dark tales into our coffers. In fact, if you’re writing earlier in the year, you might have a better chance at acceptance. Just saying.
  3. There’s also trends in topics. Right now, we’re getting a lot of horror based in real life—things like serial killers and murders, or hitchhiking gone bad, or traumatic events, or terrible people in general. Those are fine, but we are first and foremost a publication for speculative fiction, so we’ll always give precedence to dark tales with a hint of otherworldliness to them. 
  4. If you want to stand out, try writing a dark bit of science fiction or fantasy. The site’s name might have “horror” prominently in its title, but we do cover all sorts of speculative fiction. We don’t get anywhere near enough space dramas or epic fantasy creations!
  5. Finally, remember we’re a small team of volunteers, and we’re actual humans! When you receive an acknowledgement email, or an acceptance email, that is legitimately coming from me. I’ve typed it out just for you. There’s no automation involved (apart from the tech that sends the submission form to our shared email). So say hi every now and then, please!

What’s the next year got in store? Well, if Stuart keeps me around, we have some big stuff on the horizon. First and foremost, we’re reopening our short story submissions at the beginning of August. They’ve been closed for almost a whole year because of the sheer volume of submissions we had last summer (told you about the peaks and troughs!), so I’m excited to see what you’ve had percolating all that time. 

We’re also still open for submissions to our summer special! Get your summer shorts and drabbles in by the end of July via our submissions page, and our lovely specials editor Shalini will review and make her choices for our summer special edition. Successful stories could also make our annual anthologies, so there’s double the chance at publication!

But for now, let’s turn to the one-year-plus-one-week anniversary of my first TWF. It’s time for this week’s offerings on the TWF menu. For this week’s short story, Jason Fischer has some sleep worries. This is followed by three delicious quick bites:

  • Frances Castaneda gets digging,
  • Cassandra Daucus gets writing, and 
  • Adam Eherenberg gets resurrecting.

Over to you, Stuart.

Lauren McMenemy

Editor, Trembling With Fear

I’m not sure if Lauren reads my additions as I add them after she’s done, to everyone who reads this, I am 110% hoping to keep her around! She’s been a fantastic addition to the team!

So, not much to say yet again. I’m soon to be in between MBA classes. My main goal, as stated last week, is still to be finishing up TWF and our Best Of anthology. No major changes past that quite yet. Still too slammed to think past that and I only have about a month to burn through timewise before classes start up again.

For those who are looking to connect with Horror Tree on places that aren’t Twitter, we’re also in BlueSky and Threads. *I* am also now on BlueSky and Threads. Though, no promises on how active we’ll be on either until after this semester.

If you’d like to extend your support to the site, we’d be thrilled to welcome your contributions through Ko-Fi or Patreon. Your generosity keeps us fueled and fired up to bring you the very best.

Stuart Conover

Editor, Horror Tree

(more…)

Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang

  1. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang
  2. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang
  3. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang
  4. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang
  5. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang
  6. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang
  7. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang

 

Willie the Clown: Part Three

 

CHAPTER 5

 

“Mommy? Mommy are you awake yet? I wanna talk to you.”

   I shake my mother gently who’s passed out on the living room couch. There are several bottles of alcohol scattered all around her on the floor. When I look down, I notice she’s gripping a bottle of vodka in her hand. She mumbles in her sleep, but I can’t really make out what she’s saying. All I know is that I need to talk to her. Desperately. Because I feel like I’m going crazy. 

“Mommy! Wake up!” 

But my mom is completely unresponsive. She simply rolls over and continues to snore loudly. Anger takes over me and I glare at her with absolute hatred.

“Hey, what are you doing out of the pantry? Get back in there! Right now!”

I jump, startled, as I hear my father approaching me. He storms over towards me, his eyes burning with hate and evil. I back up, but he grabs me by my ear and pulls me towards the pantry. Shit. I really did not wanna go back in there. And I didn’t get a chance to tell Mommy about the voices I’ve been hearing in my head. This was my one and only chance to tell her, and it was ruined. I didn’t know when I’d have a chance to escape the pantry again. 

I probably never would. 

I try to fight my father as best I can, but he’s just too strong. Not that I have much of a chance of getting away from him anyways. I’m too malnourished and weak to fight him, and he knows it. 

My father throws me so hard into the pantry that I fall into a crumpled heap on the floor, my vision going black. The last thing I see is my father slamming the door and locking it, leaving me in complete darkness. 

 

CHAPTER 6

 

“Maddie, Maddie wake up. Maddie!”

I’m woken up to Cam gently shaking me awake. My head hurts so badly that it takes me a while to open my eyes. It takes me a while for my eyes to focus and adjust to my surroundings, but when I finally come to, I see Cam looking down at me with worry. Next to him sits Paige. She has a look of sheer terror in her eyes, and her face is as white as a sheet of paper. 

“Where-where are we? What…what  happened?” I ask, sitting up slowly. 

Cameron swallows hard before answering me, “I think someone knocked us out and brought us deeper into the clown tunnels, Maddie. They brought me here first, then you guys.”

I stare at Cam, my eyes full of bewilderment, “You-you’re saying we’re prisoners down here now? Haven’t you tried getting out?” I ask, anger swelling up inside me. 

Cam points to metal bars that have a huge, industrial sized lock and chain wrapped around it. “Does it look like there’s a way out?!” He snaps.

I feel tears well up in my eyes as I realize that this is the first time in our three year relationship that Cam has ever snapped at me, or gotten angry with me. I know that this is a very bad situation that we’re in, so I understand why he’s frustrated and scared. I’m scared too.

“What are we gonna do? How are we gonna get out of here?” Paige asks, her lip quivering as tears stream down her face. 

“Cam, did you see who brought us here? How many people was it?” I ask. 

Cam swallows hard as he tries to snap himself out of his state of fear. “I’ve only seen one guy so far, so I think it was just one. I have a plan. I think I can rush him, maybe if I can take him down when he comes to let us out, we can get out of here. While I’m knocking him out, you guys run and I’ll catch up to you. Got it?”

Paige shakes her head, “Cam we’re not leaving you down here with him!”

“You guys don’t have a choice! I want you guys to get out, don’t worry about me. I’m the one who got us into this, and I’m gonna get you out. Even if it means I don’t make it.”

“Cam, shut up you’re going to make it, alright? All of us are. Now let’s get ready to attack before the guy gets here.”

I nod, my heart pounding out of my chest. As I glance over at Paige, she has a look of terror in her eyes too, but she’s already crouched as if she’s ready to run. I brace myself too, balling my hands into fists as if that’ll do anything. 

My heart rate picks up as I begin to hear heavy footsteps walking towards us. Behind me, Paige hyperventilates, gasping for air as she struggles to breathe. I’m not much better off; beads of cold sweat drip down my face and my breathing comes out shallow, but I’m trying to keep it together. Cam looks the most calm and collected out of all of us, but I’m sure he’s scared shitless. 

“When I jump him, you guys run as fast as you can. Get the hell out of here. Ok?” He says again, going over his plan. 

Finally, the clown comes into view. It’s hard to make out every detail because of the dim lighting, but I see a heavy set man wearing an orange afro and a checkered clown suit with the colors red, green and black on it. He has his eyes painted with white clown makeup, wears a red ball over his nose, and has a frown painted in the same white paint but outlined in red, making it stand out against his other makeup. 

“Look at my little treasures! What fun it’s going to be to destroy all of them!” The clown shrieks, laughing hysterically. 

We all back up as far as we can into our tiny, cramped cell. The clown approaches the metal gate and begins to unlock it. I squeeze Cam’s shoulder hard, trying to give him a boost of confidence. Then, slowly…too slowly…the clown unlocks the gate. 

What happens next seems like it happens in slow motion. 

Cam rushes the clown, tackling it to the ground as hard as he can. He begins to beat the living daylight out of it, punching it repeatedly in the head. 

“Go, go, go!” Cam yells, his voice cracking as he beats up the clown.

“Maddie, go!” Paige yells, pushing me out of the cell, snapping me out of my state of shock. 

Paige and I nearly trip over each other as we try to find our way out of the tunnels, but we don’t even make it out of our cell.

Because when I look back, I see the clown roll over so that Cam is underneath him. The clown punches Cam once in his face, and he goes unconscious. I stare at the clown in complete disbelief. 

“CAM! CAM GET UP, PLEASE GET UP! CAM!” I yell at the top of my lungs. 

But Cam doesn’t get up. He lays there on the cold ground, unmoving. Paige is tugging on my arm, trying to get me to move, but I can’t. It’s like I’m frozen in fear, or shock. Or both. But no matter what I do, I can’t move my feet.

The clown slowly approaches me and Paige, forcing us to back up against the wall. Paige is trembling so hard that she can hardly stand upright. I feel my body shaking too, but I’m trying not to show the clown how terrified I really am. 

“Get back in your cage, little kitties, or I’ll rip your friend’s heart out!” 

The clown yells at us, and we nod- his voice so loud and shrill that it leaves my ears ringing. Reluctantly, Paige and I get back into the cell and he locks the door. I don’t know why, but when the clown calls Paige and I “little kitties” a chill goes down my spine, making me shiver. 

I watch helplessly as the clown begins to tie Cam up in a rickety, old wooden chair. Paige sobs uncontrollably next to me, and I feel tears stream down my own face as well. I don’t remember a time in my life where I’ve felt so helpless. 

Trembling With Fear 7-9-23

Hello, children of the dark. Summer has kinda disappeared on this side of the pond (it threatens a return, don’t worry!), which has got me thinking more about the light and the sun and the green open fields and the seaside settings. Why is it we see so little dark fiction set in the daylight? 

I know the very name of it – dark fiction – tends to bring to mind claustrophobic spaces and midnight jaunts and something hiding in the shadows. And these stories are our bread and butter here at TWF. 

But just because it’s usual doesn’t mean it’s the only thing possible. 

Think of something like Midsommer, which brought horror crashing into the eternal sunshine of the Nordic summer. Or Picnic at Hanging Rock, with its Valentine’s picnic gone awry. Sunshine and BBQs and boat trips can actually be rife for dark tales. What would you do with a prompt that required a summer story fit for Horror Tree’s shelves? 

While you ponder that, I’ll remind you: we’re still open for submissions to our summer special! Yes, there was theory to my madness (and also I’ve just come from a class about “summer frights” so it’s on my mind). As we say on our submissions page: “We’re looking for horror on the beach, at a B&B, on a cruise, backpacking, road trips, glamping, end of the pier. What about a drabble as a holiday postcard: Wish you weren’t here?” 

Get your summer shorts and drabbles in by the end of July via our submissions page, and our lovely specials editor Shalini will review and make her choices for our summer special edition. Successful stories could also make our annual anthologies, so there’s double the chance at publication!

But for now, let’s get to the reason you’re all here. It’s time for this week’s offerings on the TWF menu. For this week’s short story, Henry Martin is left behind deep under the ground, with horrific consequences. This is followed by three delicious quick bites:

  • Cassandra Vaillancourt heads for open waters,
  • Patrick Norris spies on the kids next door, and 
  • G.B. Dinesh survives a plane crash.

And finally, a quick reminder that we are reopening to short story submissions in a few weeks. Get those darkly speculative flash fiction tales ready for us!

Over to you, Stuart.

Lauren McMenemy

Editor, Trembling With Fear

So, had a great Fourth of July with the kids. Our new puppy also, thankfully, has 0 care in the world when it comes to fireworks. I’m sure having two young boys that run around the house constantly has helped her not be surprised by loud noises. Our elder pup also is good with fireworks so it was a great extended weekend of fun with family and the doggos. 

I’m in the last two weeks of my current MBA class. The next semester is going to likely be as challenging as this one has been if not more so, however, I’m in the home stretch. It is putting me massively behind on things. My goals in between semesters are to finish up the TWF print release, finish reading the Best Of stories, and finishing fulfilling a couple of our Patreon edits that are almost overdue. Past that? I can’t say I have much in mind quite yet. 

For those who are looking to connect with Horror Tree on places that aren’t Twitter, we’re also in BlueSky and Threads. *I* am also now on BlueSky and Threads. Though, no promises on how active we’ll be on either until after this semester.

If you’d like to extend your support to the site, we’d be thrilled to welcome your contributions through Ko-Fi or Patreon. Your generosity keeps us fueled and fired up to bring you the very best.

Stuart Conover

Editor, Horror Tree

(more…)

Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang

  1. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang
  2. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang
  3. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang
  4. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang
  5. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang
  6. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang
  7. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang

 

Willie the Clown: Part Two

 

CHAPTER 3

 

 I sprint up towards Cameron and Paige, clutching onto Cam’s arm as tightly as I can. My hands shake as I hold onto him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice, which is strange. He’s always checking on me constantly, making sure I’m ok, even when we’re not in a terrible, creepy-ass tunnel. 

   “Hey guys, check this out!” Cameron whispers excitedly as he pans his dim flashlight over towards the right side of the wall. 

   I gasp in shock as I see a freaky, grotesque looking clown spray painted on the wall. It’s outlined in red, complete with a huge, round, red nose and creepy, large eyes that are too close together. It smiles from ear-to-ear, its nose drooping down over it. I don’t know why this picture is disturbing; maybe because of the fact that it’s a clown, but it could be because…something about it just…doesn’t seem right. 

    “Cam are you filming this?! This is so badass!” Paige exclaims happily. 

   “Yeah, duh,” Cam says, scanning his phone all around the tunnel as he films the art. 

   “Ok, we found some creepy clown art, we’ll definitely get bonus points for that. Can we just get out now? Please guys?” I beg, my heart rate beginning to speed up erratically. 

  “Yeah we really should be heading back. It smells awful in here anyways, and it’s cold,” Paige complains, finally siding with me. 

   “Would you guys stop being pansies already? I wanna go deeper; I’ve heard there’s more clown art down there, and it gets even scarier too,” Cam says as he stops filming the art. 

    “No Cam, we’ve gotten enough footage, and we’re leaving. Now!” I say, my tone harsh.

   With that, Paige and I whip around and start heading back, leaving Cam behind. I know he’ll snap out of it and start following us soon, but after we get about teen feet away from him, I realize he’s still not behind us. 

    “Hey, Maddie? Where’s Cam?” 

    I turn around, staring in the spot where Cam was, but he’s nowhere to be seen. For some reason, my heart starts beating out of my chest as my anxiety worsens. What the hell? Cam was just there…did he…did he go deeper into the tunnel alone?

  “Cam? Cam you’d better not be pranking us! Cam? Where are you?” I call out, my voice echoing down the long tunnels.

   As I pan my flashlight to the left, I briefly get distracted by some graffiti on the walls. When I see what’s written there, a chill goes down my spine. It reads: 

   Beware of clowns.

  Paige gasps behind me and clutches my arm, her hands shaking. “That-that’s not real right? It-it’s just a joke…right?” She asks, her voice cracking with fear. 

   I decide not to waste anymore time looking at the graffiti. “CAM?! CAM COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! WE’RE LEAVING! CAM!” I scream, not caring how loud I’m being. 

   As Paige and I stand there, trembling with both fear and cold, I suddenly see something dart in front of my flashlight way in the distance. All I see is a black blob. At first, I immediately think it’s Cam, and a sigh of relief escapes me. But…something seems strange. I know Cam. He wouldn’t go this far to pull off a prank to scare me and Paige this badly. It wasn’t his personality. Was that…was that really him?

   “Cam? Is-is that you?” Paige calls, her voice a whisper. 

   Suddenly, Paige screams in terror and the next thing I know, she collapses on the ground in front of me, her body falling into a puddle of disgusting sewer water. I jump back, startled, unsure of what just happened. But…before I can do anything, or even try to run, I feel something heavy slam against my head. I fall face-down next to Paige. 

   As my eyes slowly begin to close, the last thing I remember seeing is a blurry figure of a man in a clown costume. I try to get a better look at him but then…everything goes completely black. 

 

CHAPTER 4

 

Darkness. All that surrounds me is complete and utter darkness. As I sit there on the cold floor in the tiny closet, I try to find some sort of blanket, anything to keep me warm. But all I have is the paper-thin clothes that are covered in holes to keep me warm. I want to get out, to stretch my legs, and to feel sunlight. However, when I try to stand up, I can’t even do that. 

   “I told you I don’t know where that little shit ran off to! You’d know if you weren’t working all the damn time!” I hear a man’s voice yell. 

   That man. It was the same man who’d thrown the little boy into the fire earlier. But who was he talking to? And why was he acting like he didn’t know what had happened to him? I wondered. 

    “You did something to him didn’t you?! Where is he? I know you know where he is! If you don’t tell me right now, I’m calling the police! And where the hell is Willie?!” A woman’s voice shrieks angrily. 

   “The kid’s in there, he’s fine. Would ya quit your bitchin’ already? You’re giving me a damn headache!” The man shouts. 

   “You locked Willie in the pantry?! What the hell is wrong with you? Get out of my house. Now!” I hear the woman yell. Then, I hear what sounds like a hard slap, and something falls on the floor, making a loud THUD! I can only assume that was the woman falling because maybe the man slapped her so hard she fell. 

   “Listen to me you bitch. You don’t get to kick me out. I’m the one who runs shit around here, ya got that?! I’m in charge of the kids, not you! So shut the hell up!”

    I keep waiting anxiously for the woman to unlock the pantry door and get me the hell out of here. But as I sit there waiting, and waiting, and waiting, nobody helps me. Nobody gets me out of the pantry. I begin to realize that the woman is just going to listen to the man, and do whatever he says. Like she’s his servant. 

    “That’s what I thought. You ever try to talk back to me again, you die. Understand?”

   The last thing I hear is the man’s footsteps heading towards the back of the house. As I listen closely, I also hear what sounds like the woman crying. It’s very faint, but I hear her sobbing as she lays there on the floor.

Trembling With Fear 7-2-23

Hello, children of the dark. July already, huh? And it feels simultaneously like the year has whizzed by and also that it’s crawling along. So much for all those grand plans for 2023! I better get moving!

It also feels like an age since we closed to short stories, because it really has been. After an absolute deluge of great submissions last summer, we took the rare decision to temporarily close our doors for anything other than drabbles. It wasn’t easy, but it had to be done – otherwise writers would be waiting literal years for their pieces to be published, and that’s not fair on anyone. 

We had hoped the submissions window would reopen in early 2023, but we kept pushing it back. Some of you have tried your luck and subbed shorts anyway, and we’ve had to decline with a vague “we’ll reopen at some point, so please resubmit then”. As we sit here this week, we’re still scheduled through beyond the end of this summer – another 10 weeks worth of stories still waiting for publication. Yes, I wasn’t kidding when I said ‘onslaught’; we were getting around 30-40 a week at one point last summer! 

That said, we’ll need to reopen at some point, and it’s only fair we give plenty of notice. With that in mind, I will say we’re aiming to re-open to short story subs from the beginning of August. So, get your short stories ready for us! We love anything that’s darkly speculative – not just all-out blood-and-guts horror, remember; try us with your dark space operas and dystopias and all the speculative sub-genres – as long as it’s no longer than 1500 words long. Yes, it’s really a flash fiction market. Make sure you send it in via our submission form, and that you upload it in a Word document, not a PDF or a screenshot please. We accept simultaneous submissions, but do let us know if your subbed piece is accepted elsewhere so we can withdraw it from contention.

But for now, let’s get to the reason you’re all here. It’s time for this week’s offerings on the TWF menu. Our short this week has Dylan James in the North-West Territories during elk season, which is rarely a good idea. This is followed by three delicious quick bites:

  • Victoria Huntley reflects on some marital difficulties,
  • Jakob Wild runs from *something*, and 
  • Sean MacKendrick doesn’t resist at all.

Over to you, Stuart.

Lauren McMenemy

Editor, Trembling With Fear

Another small hiccup with hosting this last week lead us to get an upgrade that has made the site lightning-fast on the backend, Hopefully, that speed has increased to your reading experience as well! Still reading through stories and working on this year’s TWF, hopefully, news soon. I’ll be honest, I won’t expect a big update next week with it being the 4th and whatnot. 

If you’d like to extend your support to the site, we’d be thrilled to welcome your contributions through Ko-Fi or Patreon. Your generosity keeps us fueled and fired up to bring you the very best.

Stuart Conover

Editor, Horror Tree

(more…)

Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang

  1. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 1 by Rachael Chang
  2. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 2 by Rachael Chang
  3. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 3 by Rachael Chang
  4. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 4 by Rachael Chang
  5. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 5 by Rachael Chang
  6. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 6 by Rachael Chang
  7. Serial Saturday: Willie the Clown, Part 7 by Rachael Chang

 

 

Willie the Clown: Part One

 

CHAPTER 1

 

I remember that day all too clearly. Every single detail. I remember hearing my brother crying, sobbing uncontrollably. He was nine at the time, and I was seven. Even though he was only two years older than me, I remember thinking in the back of my head “grow up, stop acting like such a crybaby.” I didn’t know what he was sobbing about then. But soon, very soon, I found out.

It was all over the news papers. What happened to my brother. After hearing him sobbing from inside of my room, aka, the kitchen pantry, I thought it was weird that I never heard him anymore after that day. I could usually hear him talking to my father, but lately the house had been pretty quiet.

Eerily quiet.

One day, my father opened the closet and threw a newspaper at my face. I could hardly read, so at first I didn’t know what it said, or what was happening. But, as I stared at the front page article, my entire body went numb, and I felt my face turn pale.

“This is all your fault, you little shit! Your brother ran away, and now he’s gone! We have no idea where he is!”

My father proceeds to scream even more obscenities in my face as I stared at the newspaper. As I tried to process what was happening, I realized that I didn’t understand why my father was blaming me for my brother’s disappearance. I know they’d gotten into some kind of argument the other night, and now…my brother was just…gone? Without any warning? Without any explanation? I shook my head. No. It didn’t make any sense.

“Well, good riddance to him, I don’t give a damn if they find him or not. One less mouth for me to feed.”

With that, my father slammed the pantry door, and I was left alone. I stared at the newspaper until I eventually fell asleep. I still didn’t understand how any of this was my fault. I knew my father was just trying to put the blame on anybody else. Because this was all his fault. My brother disappeared because of my father’s abusive behavior and neglect.

And what was worse…he left me behind.

 

CHAPTER 2

 

    “Cam, Cameron stop recording! Cam I mean it,” I giggle as I shove my boyfriend Cameron’s phone out of my face.

He flashes his cute, dorky grin at me, “Oh come on, Maddie we need to start recording our lines for our art project,” he says, still recording me.

“That’s not due until Friday, Cam. Plus I thought we were going to start working on that when we got home,” I say as I hoist my backpack over my shoulders. The last bell of the day rings, signaling the end of school. Finally.

Cameron listens to me and puts down his phone, “Yeah, yeah, I know I just wanted to get it over with. Plus, you look so pretty on camera I couldn’t resist filming you for a bit.”

I feel myself blush as I shove Cameron playfully. Just then my best friend, Paige comes up from behind us.

“Hey guys! So are we still on for tonight?” She says, jumping up and down with excitement.

“Shh Paige keep your voice down! I don’t want anybody knowing we’re going to the clown tunnel,” Cam says, whispering.

“Huh? Why? What does it matter if people know we’re going there or not?”

“Because I don’t want other kids showing up. It’ll ruin our art project,” Cam says, frowning.

“Fine I’ll shut up about it. But we’re still going, right?” Paige asks again.

“Yes, of course we’re still going. Why, you wanna back out now?” Cam asks, smiling slyly.

Paige rolls her eyes, “Me? Scared? Hell no, I’m totally psyched about this! I think Maddie’s scared though.”

Paige and Cameron start busting out laughing. I fold my arms over my chest, annoyed at them.

“Shut up guys, you know I’m not into this spooky, paranormal ghost stuff,” I say, staring down at the floor.

“Yeah, but we’ll be fine. There’s nothing to be scared of, babe,” Cam says, kissing me on the forehead.

“Sure, killer clowns aren’t scary at all,” I say sarcastically.

That night, we gather up all the supplies we need for filming our art project. We bring flashlights, snacks, and several cameras to film with. It takes us a while to find the notorious “clown tunnel” but finally, we find it.