Trembling With Fear 12-15-24
Greetings, children of the dark. It’s been a big few weeks in my world and I am very much paying for it as I write this to you. I ran the most recent edition of my Writing the Occult series, all about Hauntology, at the end of November, and it feels like since then I’ve been playing catch-up while continuing to run around like a headless chook: social engagements (yes, UncannyCon was f***ing awesome!), running workshops, planning more events, and generally winding down at work for the end of year. I hit a wall this week and had to spend most of it (to date, at least) sitting on the couch watching angsty teen supernatural dramas. I’m almost done with the latest (Legacies, a previously-unknown-to-me spin-off from The Vampire Diaries), so do let me know your recommendations of which teen world I need to inhabit next! It’s funny, but I never realised these sorts of shows were my escape vehicle until this last week or so. I am not ashamed in the slightest.
And so as we push forward with the final two weeks of 2024, we head into this week’s missive from TWF Towers. This week’s main course from Carl W. Townsend dips into the always-necessary well that warns of the dangers of unchecked technology. That’s followed by the short, sharp speculations of:
- R H Williams’s after-school activities,
- Maggie C Nolan’s end of time, and
- S.K. Green’s hearing challenges.
Over to you, Stuart.
Join me in thanking our upcoming site sponsor for the next month! Please check out Josh Schlossberg’s ‘Where The Shadows Are Shown’!
“A Horror Short Story Collection by Josh Schlossberg
A hiker stumbles on a gruesome species undiscovered by science… An injury triggers an appalling new ability… A domestic pet holds a household in thrall… A human monster finally meets his match… Crimes against nature birth an abomination…
These and fifteen more tales make up WHERE THE SHADOWS ARE SHOWN, a short story collection by Josh Schlossberg (author of CHARWOOD and MALINAE), who guides you on a trek through the shadowy realms of biological and folk horror, supernatural and weird fiction.
So, lace up your boots, fill your water bottle, and put fresh batteries in the flashlight, because there’s not a chance in hell you’re getting back before dark.”
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Hi all.
What. A. Week. We’re still looking forward to a lot of changes, but this week has really been inching. Between some bad news that came in and being on a huge project this week at the day job, I’ve barely been able to keep the site running,g let alone work on our new site layout, TWF, or newsletter layout. There has been ‘some’ progress but not nearly as much as I’ve wanted.
For my personal writing? More good news! That acceptance last week has been followed by a second this week! Just like before, more details will come when official announcements are made. Also, there are three open calls with stories that I never finished which could make great fits so, hopefully, I’ll have a few more submissions being sent out in the near future!
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!
- Be sure to order a copy of Shadowed Realms on Amazon, we’d love for you to check it out and leave a review!
- Please be sure to follow us on both BlueSky and Threads
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 on places that aren’t Twitter, we’re also in BlueSky and Threads. *I* am also now on BlueSky and Threads.
Carl W. Townsend
Carl W. Townsend occupies an empty nest with his original wife. Exiting a career in commercial aviation and logistics he now employs himself with domestic slavery, growing corals and writing down things he finds in his head. His one and only writing credential came years ago when he wrote an email to entertain his coworkers. A cow escaped from a slaughterhouse in Cincinnati and roamed around for over a week. Carl wrote a diary from the cow’s perspective. It went viral before viral was a thing, gaining national attention. He has written his first novel and hopes to see it published.
The Mistake, by Carl W. Townsend
Human beings have developed, and continue to develop, technologies they cannot possibly manage.
Human beings make mistakes.
Dr. Simon Purcell removed his glasses, sat back in his chair, and rubbed his face. He feared they were moving too quickly into the unknown, forgoing months of preliminary testing. His concerns were noted and dismissed. “If we don’t do it someone else will.”
Designed by artificial intelligence, they had constructed the most powerful quantum computer in existence. Once online, it was used to advance brain-computer interface technology. His lab contained the most advanced quantum volume, artificial intelligence, and brain-computer interface technology in the world.
They believed Dr. Preston Scott could access the intelligence contained in the computer with his mind and control it with his thoughts, giving him superhuman abilities.
Having dedicated his life to the research, Preston immediately volunteered and signed informed consent for the test. Four implants with multiple contacts were then surgically inserted into various locations in his brain.
Bare chested, Preston took a seat in the chair on the raised platform next to the quantum computer. Four wires exited his shaved head through fresh incisions. Technicians in white lab coats surrounded him, connecting EEG, EKG, and brain-computer interface wires. They restrained his arms and legs to keep his movements from altering the readings. A monitor for Preston to control with his mind hung a few feet in front of him.
Although Preston’s marred unnatural appearance was disconcerting to Simon, he pushed the image aside and focused on the task at hand. He took a deep breath, put his glasses on and watched his monitor as departments check in ready for the test on his messaging app. Simon took solace from the two panic buttons on the console in front of him; one to break the link with Preston and one to kill the power to the quantum computer.
A medical team was present, along with programmers and technicians monitoring the equipment. Observers lined the walls. Hushed conversations accompanied the sound of Preston’s heart monitor and the eerie mechanical pulsing of the quantum computer.
Simon looked around the lab. “Okay. Are we ready?
He scanned the nodding faces in the lab.
“Are you ready Preston?”
Eyes closed; Preston gave a slow nod.
“Activating the link in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”
Simon activated the link.
Preston’s body stiffened against the restraints. The monitor in front of him flashed horrific images. He appeared to be unable to close his eyes or look away and whimpered in fear.
Simon tried to stop the test but couldn’t break the link. He slammed his hand on the power disconnect button, but nothing happened.
Preston emptied his stomach, bladder, and bowels. They watched helplessly as he suffered. His mortal scream resonated in the souls of everyone present. He slumped forward, the flatline tone recording his silent heart.
As the medical team converged on Preston, his heart began beating again.
Simon’s breath caught. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood in fear as a palpable evil presence filled the lab.
The medical team stopped and backed slowly away from Preston.
The infrared technician spoke up. “His body temperature is up seven degr—.”
Preston’s body began convulsing violently. A demonic smile frozen on its face. Its eyes wild with evil. The body gnashed its teeth until they broke. The chair levitated as it struggled against the restraints, kicking, and squirming savagely with unnatural movement. The grunting and rustling punctuated by the sound of joints dislocating and bones breaking.
Screams and shouts of anguish filled the lab. Driven by terror at the sight, observers ran for the exit.
The body stiffened, reared back its head and filled the lab with a deep bestial howl. It spat blood in the air and violently convulsed, flailing its head and breaking its neck.
The chair slammed down on the platform. The lab fell silent except for the flatline tone from Preston’s silent heart and the steady pulsing of the quantum computer.
The broken body hung from the restraints, steam rising from its bloody head. The stifling air became thick with the combined odors of blood, sweat, urine and excrement. A technician wretched in a trash can.
Simon sat transfixed, staring wide-eyed at Preston’s disfigured body. “My God. What have we done?”
The eyes opened on the unmoving head and looked toward Simon. Its mouth curled into a grin…
Race Ya Home
I leap off the school bus and spot my little brother emerging from the forest with his big, silly grin.
“Race ya home,” he says, and we sprint down the path.
I let him lead, savouring his laughter in the cool air. I try to catch up, near the ravine, though I know I never will.
There, as always, I lose him as he veers between the trees – the way he did all those years ago, the day everything changed.
He vanishes into the woods, leaving only a memory, a vestige lingering in the landscape.
“See you tomorrow,” I yell.
R H Williams
After gaining a Ph.D. in Molecular Epidemiology, R H Williams soon realised he’d rather write about science than do it. His day job involves teaching doctors worldwide the latest developments in medicine. He lives with his wife and two children in the Welsh countryside. His debut novel, The Madness of the Faithful, was published by Troubador in 2022, and his second, Don’t Let ‘Em Take the Children, by the Book Guild in 2024. He is a big fan of writing, reading and watching stories that scare and has a particular fondness for folk horror. Head to his website, or follow him on Twitter or Instagram.
Astringent
She hides like a feral cat in a sparse bush. Thinks I can’t see her. She opens her hundred exhausted eyes. They punctuate her burnt skin that sloughs off, and shows me her stringy muscle. I want to say something violent so that I’ll never have to see her again. But she moans. For some reason, I hug her. I thought she was dead, but her corporeal form rests on me.
“You are the worst thing that ever happened to me,” I tell her.
She can’t speak, but the way her body constricts around mine, she is saying, “I know.”
Maggie C. Nolan
Maggie C. Nolan is an author living in the mysterious plains of Indiana. She is the writer of commercial flops such as the horror novels GIRLS FROM THE WILD and TREEHOUSE, TRASH CAN, BUG BITE. She lives with her three legged cat and two legged husband. You can connect with her on Instagram @slugbabysitter.
Misophonia
My heart races as my character—
“Crrrunch. Chomp. Mmmpphh…”
I pause the game.
Grabbing the bag, I yank it over your head. Chips cascade down your chest and back. You freeze, stunned.
“How many times have I asked you to chew with your mouth closed?”
I twist the bag tight. Your face bulges beneath the plastic, outlined in horror. You flail, clawing at my arm—but I don’t let go.
The bag collapses into your mouth, sucking further in with each desperate gasp. Your body jerks, convulses…then goes limp.
I sink back into the couch, sigh relief, and press play.
S.K. Green
S.K. Green received her M.A. and B.A. in Philosophy, her Ed.S. in Educational Leadership, and is pursuing an M.F.A. in Creative Writing at the Bluegrass Writers Studio in Richmond, KY. Her passion is for writing speculative fiction, especially horror. She was born in Columbus, OH, and currently resides in Lexington, KY. Her creative work has been published in Allegory e-Zine and Catholic Digest.
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Lauren McMenemy wears many hats: Editor-in-Chief at Trembling With Fear for horrortree.com; PR and marketing for the British Fantasy Society; founder of the Society of Ink Slingers; curator of the Writing the Occult virtual events. With 25+ years as a professional writer across journalism, marketing, and communications, Lauren also works as a coach and mentor to writers looking to achieve goals, get accountability, or get support with their marketing efforts. She writes gothic and folk horror stories for her own amusement, and is currently working on a novel set in the world of the Victorian occult. You’ll find Lauren haunting south London, where she lives with her Doctor Who-obsessed husband, the ghost of their aged black house rabbit, and the entity that lives in the walls.
