The Horror Tree Recent Markets, Articles, Interviews, and Fiction!

Taking Submissions: Kozy Krampus

Submission Window: June 15th-30th, 2025
Payment: 1 cent per word
Theme: Merry and monstrous, cozy and cosmic tales about Krampus

This fall, Underland Press will explore the cosmic horror inherent in the holiday season with Kozy Krampus, a collection of stories merry and monstrous, cozy and cosmic. The gothic nightmares and horrific haunts of our forebears persist in our fever-fueled dreams. Some monsters are never vanquished; they merely find new shapes. Slip into the dark shadows behind the million flickering holiday lights. Stare down the prehistoric fruit log in which lurks something truly eldritch and batrachian. Hark to the songs sung after midnight by carolers with extra-long tongues and extra-sharp teeth. This is the holiday season with the masks ripped off.

Remember: not all gifts are good, and if you open it, you have to keep it . . . 

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An Interview With Steve Capone Jr on Costs of Living

Horror isn’t always about haunted houses or ancient curses. Sometimes, it’s the creeping dread of daily life—the suffocating rules of a suburban HOA, the slow unraveling of a workplace routine, or the existential weight of what it costs to simply exist. That’s exactly the kind of horror Steve Capone Jr. explores in Cost of Living, the debut anthology from Whisper House Press.

We recently sat down with Steve to discuss the making of this collection and the philosophy behind his press. A seasoned teacher, award-winning writer, and former philosophy grad student, Steve brings an analytical yet deeply empathetic eye to editing. His approach blends his love of narrative with his belief in fiction as a means of connecting across perspectives. And in horror, he’s found a genre where strange situations and unthinkable choices can become powerful thought experiments, what he calls “intuition pumps” borrowed from the language of ethics.

In this interview, Steve opens up about the press’s beginnings, the kinds of stories that made it into Cost of Living, and why he believes horror is uniquely suited for amplifying marginalized voices. We also touch on his second anthology, Dread Mondays, and get insight into how working with students and running Whisper House Press have sharpened his instincts as both an editor and a writer.

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Taking Submissions: After Dark, Volume 2

Deadline: September 15th, 2025
Payment: $20 and 5 contributors copies
Theme: Vampire and/or Werewolf themed horror stories

The sun sets. With it, light fades as though it were a mere background character in a sinister plot as the stories within “After Dark, Volume 2” cast their shadows, and darkness comes to life.

Campfire Publishing is excited to announce that we are currently accepting submissions for, “After Dark, Volume 2”, the second volume in our collection of Vampire and Werewolf themed horror stories!

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Epeolatry Book Review: It’s No Fun Anymore by Britanny Micka-Foos

Disclosure:

Our reviews may contain affiliate links. If you purchase something through the links in this article we may receive a small commission or referral fee. This happens without any additional cost to you.

Title: It’s No Fun Anymore
Author: Britanny Micka-Foos
Genre: Domestic Horror
Publisher: Apprentice House
Publication date: 17th June, 2025

Synopsis: “It’s No Fun Anymore” is a collection of eight stories that explore the politics of victimization, the sites of trauma on women’s bodies, and their attempts to divine meaning from suffering.

 

In “The Experiment,” the murder of a young girl prompts a stay-at-home mother to undertake a desperate bid for agency, drawing unlikely inspiration from a 1950s self-help book. An MLM saleswoman in “Border Crossings” is held captive at the Canadian border, and in her marriage. And “Thumb Stump” introduces a new mother who worries her baby will inherit both her perceived deformity and generational trauma.

 

These stories examine the double binds of motherhood, the sham of “having it all,” the daily struggles. The centralizing thread is the question: How can trauma be transformed?

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Trembling With Fear 5-25-25

Greetings, children of the dark. I’m writing this to you just before I head off to explore another of London’s Magnificent Seven cemeteries. What on earth is that, I hear you ask? Well, it was a programme in the Victorian era to create cemeteries that were also nice place to escape and relax, and so we have a bunch of “garden cemeteries” around the outskirts that once not only were home to the dead, but to picnicking Victorians. And yes, it’s as weird as that sounds.

However, I do love a good graveyard, and when I discovered my evening plans were around the corner from this one, I couldn’t resist: my day was rearranged so I could do this. And I cannot wait. The sun is sort-of out, it’s sort-of a nice day, so why not take myself to catch a vampire on a Thursday afternoon?

Before I can let loose, though, I must present to you this week’s menu of short, dark, speculative fiction. Our main course is a Black Mirror-esque tale of prisons and forgiveness that might not be so rosy, straight from the brain of Kidron Grifter. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:

  • CK Butcher’s childhood warning,
  • SG Perahim’s prophetic publishing, and
  • Jean E McIntosh’s diving diva.

Over to you, Stuart

Lauren McMenemy

Editor, Trembling With Fear

Hi all.

The Trembling With Fear physical releases that we should have released last year are in the final sprint. Covers are being finalized; all copy text is done. We’re so close I can taste it! (I’m thinking we’ll be able to launch pre-orders next week if all goes well!) 

I’m having one small bug with the new newsletter layout that I’ll be troubleshooting this next week. If it all goes well, we’re probably 2-3 weeks away from switching to it. I need to work out some other settings on it as well, just to be sure everything is working as expected.

With those two pieces done, I’ll be able to put all of my focus on the new layout and this year’s anthology. More details to come!

Now, for the standards:

  • Thank you so much to everyone who has become a Patreon for Horror Tree. We honestly couldn’t make it without you all!

Offhand, if you’ve ordered Trembling With Fear Volume 6, we’d appreciate a review!

For those who are looking to connect with Horror Tree as we’re not really active on Twitter anymore, we’re also in BlueSky and Threads. *I* am also now on BlueSky and Threads.

Stuart Conover

Editor, Horror Tree

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Serial Saturday: The Sacrament by T. H. Sterling, Chapter Seven

  1. Serial Saturday: The Sacrament by T. H. Sterling, Chapter One
  2. Serial Saturday: The Sacrament by T. H. Sterling, Chapter Two
  3. Serial Saturday: The Sacrament by T. H. Sterling, Chapter Three
  4. Serial Saturday: The Sacrament by T. H. Sterling, Chapter Four
  5. Serial Saturday: The Sacrament by T. H. Sterling, Chapter Five
  6. Serial Saturday: The Sacrament by T. H. Sterling, Chapter Six
  7. Serial Saturday: The Sacrament by T. H. Sterling, Chapter Seven
  8. Serial Saturday: The Sacrament by T. H. Sterling, Chapter Eight Scheduled for May 31, 2025

Chapter Seven

                                                          

“Jesus?” he choked. “How … how can this be?”

Jesus sighed, his shoulders sagging. “A question I stopped asking centuries ago. I know not why our Father has abandoned me to this living grave.”

Peter knew there had to be a different explanation, despite the terrifying creatures clawing towards him. Neither God nor the Rector would allow something so sacrilege. 

Why is this man captive? I’ve never seen him in all my years here. Jesus …Christ … The words seemed impossible.

Peter trembled as he hung the lantern on the wall. The room closed in on him, and he pressed himself against the cold stone in the corner, a few feet away. The monsters reached their arms out, but their moans grew weaker, an eerie silence enveloping them.

“I welcome the quiet,” Jesus murmured, his voice hoarse, as if the weight of time had stolen the sound of his words. “It always comes after the young ones …” His brow tightened with pain. “After we’ve fed, and they’ve drained us for the Eucharist.”

Peter’s breath hitched. The young ones—the orphans? A sickening realization clawed at the edges of his mind, but he pushed the thought away, unwilling to believe.

“You mean these … abominations are a source, too?” 

A grimace twisted the man’s face. His gaze grew distant, his voice tinged with sorrow. “They say the children of Christ carry the blood of Christ.” 

Peter’s heart pounded. This was all too much. His thoughts swirled with questions, but his voice faltered.

Jesus studied him for a long moment. Peter felt the intensity of his gaze, awe and revulsion flowing through him under the scrutiny. Soft weeping drifted from Christian’s cage.

“It’s been many years since I’ve spoken much.” Jesus cleared his voice. “They used to bring me books, and we would talk for long hours. Over time, I became a relic, hidden in the dark except when they come for the blood.”

He sighed. “What year is this?”

“Nineteen hundred and one,” Peter replied.

A wry chuckle escaped Jesus’s lips. “Two thousand years of torture, sacrifice and death. A cruel jes t… the disciples’ potion was supposed to ease my suffering.”

Peter’s heart thudded. This is impossible. Christ’s resurrection had been a triumph of life over death, of hope over despair. This … this was something else entirely. His gut tightened as his memories jumped to the scrolls. 

“I should have died that day.” Jesus spat the words like a curse, his fingers clenching the edge of the table. “Instead, I’ve lingered in this nightmare.”

“You are not the one I know,” Peter whispered, his voice cracking. “The scriptures … they speak of a risen Christ, not this ….” 

Jesus’s eyes softened, his lips curling into a sad, resigned smile. “The truth is not the story you were taught.”

Peter’s eyes drifted to the monstrous figures in the cages, to the decayed hands reaching through the bars. If this is real, if He is real … He swallowed hard. He wanted to run, wanted to turn his back and leave this place behind, but the sheer gravity of the knowledge he had uncovered kept him rooted in place.

“You must set us free from our suffering.” Jesus’s words pierced through him. “Take up the sword and grant us passage to our Father’s embrace.”

“Th-the R-rector will know.”

“No Peter. John the Beloved has been my jailer from the beginning. He and the original Sacred Rite learned to consume just enough not to turn.” 

“Do not speak such blasphemy.” Peter’s heart stuttered as the words crashed into him. “No … no, that can’t be true.” 

He shook his head, disbelief tightening his insides. The image of the Rector and his many years of devoted leadership swam through his memory—a man of righteous faith, guided by God’s will and the tenets of faith. John the Beloved? Peter’s mind reeled, but the pieces wouldn’t fit. It was impossible. The Rector was the shepherd of their flock … maybe a bit dramatic, but a living example of holiness, not the source of these horrors.

A chill swept over him. The Testament of the Resurrection written by John, the one who witnessed, and the last part he read—Αἰώνιον Χρέος, eternal duty. His stomach clenched at the memory of the Rector’s quick, angry reaction at Peter’s inquiry of the text. His mind cleared, zeroing in on the message written in the scrawled handwriting: For in this act, we too bore the cross.

Peter pressed his palms against his eyes to clear the spell cast by this caged man. The bars must be needed to keep this vessel of the devil from spreading such lies.

Jesus’s voice, heavy with weariness, broke the silence. “Have you seen him or the Brethren age? They believe in their own divinity.”

Peter bowed his head, the heaviness of the words crushing his spirit. A cold realization cut through him, sharp as the blade in his hand. The Rector had never changed—not in the way others did. He had remained as steadfast as the stone walls of the rectory since Peter’s youth, his body untouched by time. The Brethren too—none of them had withered. The benefits of devotion, he had thought.

They spoke as if they were divinely untouchable, but he had attributed this to pride and unwarranted self-importance. Could there be some truth here from this forked-tongue stranger?

Lord, what is your command? A peaceful resolve descended over him. His soul knew what he must do. 

He picked up the sword, steeling himself against the desperate faces in the cages. How this happened didn’t matter. He needed to put an end to these unholy creatures.

“How do I avoid getting bit?”

Taking Submissions: Slugger Summer 2025 Window

Submission Window: June 15th – July 15th, 2025
Payment: $25
Theme: All subgenres of horror (dark fantasy, sci-fi, noir all accepted as long as horror plays a central role).

SLUGGER is the creative effort of two horror writer pals.

Send us: 

  • In general, we are open to all subgenres of horror (dark fantasy, sci-fi, noir all accepted as long as horror plays a central role).
  • Body horror tickles our fancy the most if we had to pick a subgenre, but SLUGGER will be open to all horror stories.
  • We love subversive and transgressive fiction. Anything that fits the punk ethos is likely to get our attention.
  • Stories can be speculative or not.
  • Our guidelines may change over time, but we are open to the full spectrum of genre to literary fiction, conventional storytelling to experimental, and plot driven to vibes only.

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