Deadline: June 30th, 2018
Payment: $50 and a contributor’s copy

On a recent camping trip with my family, the stillness of the night seemed to amplify each sound. Every rustle of a branch or scrape of a twig seemed louder than a gunshot. I froze in fear and barely slept a wink all night. I felt exposed and vulnerable, and it terrified me. Knowing that bears often visited this park didn’t help matters either. How could I sleep when an attack could come from any direction?

This frightful anticipation reminded me of a scene from one of my favorite TV shows, Lost. Survivors from a plane crash hear the metallic scream of an unknown beast that sounds like a dinosaur in the jungle as it draws closer to their safe position on the beach. Palm trees are knocked sideways at an alarming rate as a terror in the night inches closer to their vulnerable location. Not being able to see the beast heightens the suspense. What is that thing? When will it strike? How can they survive?

I wonder how our early ancestors slept outside in the open air. Did they ever feel secure enough to fall into a deep sleep? I think it would be impossible for me. I find security in our houses, towns, and cities. So many horrors lurk in dark alleyways and shelter in deserted corners of the world. Very quickly, my mind pictures vampires hungry for blood or monsters creeping through abandoned buildings on the outside of town.

A fire burning bright in the darkness seems like a beacon of hope. Light seems to drive the fear away and offer a bit of safety, while the dark unknown teems with danger. But adding the lure of a full moon to a night already fraught with fearful shadows, it also becomes easy to imagine all sorts of spooks and specters. The moon adds an element of mysteriousness to the equation. Now, a jaunt in the woods can lead to an unfortunate stumbling among a pack of werewolves. A blood moon seems the perfect backdrop to human sacrifice.

The moon, despite its beauty and grandeur, has often had negative connotations associated with it. For the centuries before humans landed on the moon, little green men and other types of aliens were imagined to live there. Many cultures, like the Aztecs and Greeks, believed that the moon was a living organism. Whether as a young girl or a woman who drove her chariot across the sky, the moon played a huge role in creation myths of our world. People once thought the moon caused insanity. Not only was it supposed to affect the body, but it changed a person’s mind and drove them to madness. Thus, the word “lunatic” deriving from the Latin word for moon.

In this anthology, we’ll explore the spells the moon has placed on humanity since the dawn—or should we say dusk—of time. We want to hear your loveliest and creepiest stories about the full moon: armies attacking under the cover of darkness, wretches making pacts with fiends under a Harvest Moon, scientists working in their laboratories in the dead of night, monsters most cruel, spells that work under a moon’s shadow, tsunamis that rain destruction upon unsuspecting sailors caused by the moon’s pull on the oceans, children with supernatural powers born during a solstice, and fairy circles in the heart of the woods. Come, entertain us, cast your literary enchantments with any story that can be told under the full moon’s light.

The details:

• Submissions will be accepted June 1st – 30th.
• Stories should be new and NOT published elsewhere.
• Stories should be less than 7,500 words.
• Simultaneous submissions are accepted.
• Authors will be notified of acceptance or pass by July 15th.
• The anthology will be published in October 2018.
• Authors selected for the anthology will be paid $50 & receive one print copy of the finished book.
• If we are interested in your story, we will send you a contract and additional details about edits, payment, and final due dates.

Send entries to [email protected] as a Word attachment with Full Moon Anthology in the subject line, and we will respond between June 30th and July 15th. We look forward to hearing from you!

Via: Owl Hollow Press.