My wartime vampire story “Shadows of the Reich” appears in the new Samhain edition of Hungur Chronicles magazine.
I think it’s the only vampire story I’ve ever written, and because such genre tales seem to be a tough sell, I’m pleased to find it a home.
It’s available in print direct from Hireath Publishing or Amazon.
This new anthology from Burial Books, with its beautifully retro and grisly cover, is now available and contains my story “Extreme Eats”.
I’ve always been interested in the concept of people being used for lethal public entertainment, from gladiators in ancient history to running men in dystopian fiction. “Extreme Eats” – featuring a ghastly and lethal competitive eating TV show – is my enthusiastic contribution.
The anthology is available from the publishers here, or through Amazon in hardcover, paperback and ebook.
And while I’m shamelessly plugging that one, my bleak and grisly tale “The Antechamber” also saw publication recently in the outrageously titled “Satan Rides Your Daughter Again” (Crikey!) from Hellbound Books.
One of my rare forays into both extreme splatter and supernatural horror, I’m glad it apparently struck a grim chord with the editors. It’s available in ebook and print from Amazon here.
Cheers!
I’ve recently read all of Mark West’s dark thrillers from The Book Folks, and was happy to discover that his latest novel “To See Too Much” is up there with the best of them.
It’s narrated by Carrie: a social worker recovering from a heart attack. She heads to Miller’s Point – a small cluster of quaint cottages on the coast – to convalesce, planning a gentle time of sea air and walks on the beach, but the other residents turn out to be an intriguing and unsettling bunch.
She accidentally overhears a couple of heated exchanges, and somewhat bored and restless, becomes drawn into watching the lives of her temporary neighbours. Discovering broken marriages and professional scandals along the way, Carrie soon realises that Miller’s Point is full of tension and dark secrets. And some people are not happy with her watchful presence.
When a local woman goes missing and a corpse turns up on the beach nearby, Carrie realises that she’d be better off well away from all this, but feels bound to do the right thing and help some of the new acquaintances she has made.
Carrie is a great narrator: pleasant, strong and intelligent (like many of Mark West’s previous protagonists) so it’s easy to invest. Her social work background means she is an astute reader of the human condition, and also instinctive when it comes to perceiving threat. And she certainly sees plenty of that as we are carried along by her sharp curiosity and suspicions.
The author is a master of building menace and that is perfectly escalated here. The story begins with occasional and subtle moments of unease – the odd glance or awkward exchange – then slowly cranks the apprehension as unpleasant things start to happen.
The narrated prose is clean and effortless to read, dappled with lovely turns of phrase, and the dialogue always feels real. There’s a depth and fragility to the characters, and I love the way everyone has secrets and is a bit weird, broken or hard work in some way. Because, aren’t we all? The character dynamics and interactions are convincing and full of deft touches, which is a good job because “To See Too Much” is very much a character driven piece.
Miller’s Point is part of the traditional but faded British seaside resort of Seagrave: a fictional location of the author’s that has featured in several of his previous novels. Although I was pleased at the prospect of a revisit, it’s a little different this time. We don’t see much of the town, the tale concentrating upon the dysfunctional microcosm of Miller’s Point, and the book is all the better for this tight and somewhat claustrophobic focus.
There’s fun whodunitry to be had should you wish to try and deduce the real villains of the piece, and it all builds to a gripping, violent and satisfying finale that had me glued to the page as everything fell into place.
One of the many things I love about this author’s novels is that I can relax in the knowledge that I’m not going to be disappointed or feel cheated in any way. With touches of Rear Window, “To See Too Much” is a page-turner that requires no cheap shot fireworks to keep us hooked and I eagerly look forward to Mark West’s next work.
If you like fantasy of the gritty and grimdark variety, then these two short stories – the first from the author’s new Shadows of the Collegiate venture – should be right up your murky, cobbled alleyway.
Full of convincing characters, oozing atmosphere and violence, they are so exquisitely painted in DB Rook’s textured prose, I was hooked from the moment I started reading.
The setting is a fog-drenched town that is no stranger to crime, disease and public executions.
It lives under the shadow of the Collegiate, a mysterious entity described as a “timeless and foreboding seat of power” and the campus is a great place for any dark fantasy fiend to visit. A baroque and sinister institution, nestled beneath rain-lashed cliffs and only accessible via a creepy barge ride across an aquaduct, it has all the ancient stone, spooky ambience, and robed acolytes slinking through the damp that you could hope for.
In “The Price of Piety” we join a bunch of miscreants gathered in a rough tavern called the Dripping Bucket to plan a heist upon the Collegiate. Led by a behemoth of a man with a short temper, his wonderfully motley crew consists of a tough warrior, a silent elfin thief, a foul cutthroat and an ageing sorcerer.
The gang plan to steal a font of wealth and power from the dark catacombs of the Collegiate, but attempting to best the steampunk mechanics and supernatural guardians is no mean feat, and the heist doesn’t quite go to plan.
This story is thick with imagination and takes us to some immersive locations. Despite the murky vibes, I was bowled along by the crass camaraderie, drama, bickering, and occasional slapstick of the group. I particularly liked Kidd, the cutthroat: “His talents were few, but if you wanted a kitten ended, Kidd was your man.” He’s a vile character, but brings life and gallows humour to every scene he’s in.
This was a great introduction to the Shadows of the Collegiate world. It has surprises, skullduggery, and violence almost elegant in its ugliness, and the finale concludes it on a pleasingly wry note.
“Grawnden Tweed felt each decade scrabble up his spine as he tramped up the steps to the gallows.”
Thus begins “No Hook for a Hood” where we follow the grinding life of an axe-wielding executioner and professional maimer.
Jaded, addled by age, and very close to retirement, Grawnden Tweed lops off the heads, fingers and hands of the – usually juvenile – thieves of the plague-troubled town. Working under the jurisdiction of the High Justice of the Collegiate, he does his job with integrity, but is tormented by his deeds. Reminders are everywhere in the form of mutilated and homeless kids, and he is haunted by both his victims and the ghost of his disapproving mentor father.
The title neatly asks that when the hood comes off, can this damaged man escape the guilt and duty of his past?
After the drama of the heist, this is an introspective and much heavier piece, especially without the vulgar banter to buoy it. But it never becomes too much, achieving just the right level of bleak for enjoyment.
I savoured both of these stories. They aren’t just pure escapism; strong feelings and relatable moments abound, despite the fantasy setting. The author conjures a palpable sense of menace and decay, where everyone and everything is past its best, and even the weather seems malevolent.
“Light rain floated downward to settle on the square’s cobbles, leaving a slick sheen of underfoot treachery.”
Speaking of which, I enjoy DB Rook’s rich and somewhat literary style. Of course I like an “invisible” storyteller as much as the next reader, but I’m also a fan of fiction such as this where the sumptuous prose and clear love of language rises to the fore and brings a whole new level of enjoyment. It suits the ghastly mood, and brings the characters to life with panache.
“His bones attempted to pierce his skin at every angle and his dry white beard was likely to catch fire should he stand within a foot of reflected sunlight”.
As well as being so finely painted, the nefarious or broken characters we meet are nuanced and fully rounded, slipping seamlessly into the besmirched sense of place that the author has crafted.
If all this sounds like your grimdark thing, definitely give these Shadows of the Collegiate stories a read. Both tales drew me in with their intriguing glimpses of the town and its denizens. This is world-building perfectly done, and I very much look forward to finding out what troubled, dangerous folk and grisly nooks of the Collegiate’s dominion we will be treated to next.
Available from DB Rook’s Kindle store (Amazon or Amazon UK)
Visit the author’s site here.
It’s been a few years since I read a Mark West story, and this novel from The Book Folks made me glad that I’d decided to revisit and also wonder why I’d left it so long.
“We Were Seen” is narrated by Kim Morgan, a lecturer and councillor in the fictional English coastal town of Seagrave. As the story begins, we find her attending a public meeting to protest the development of a golf course and hotel that will steamroll some local marshland. A fight breaks out, and after she is rescued from the violence by a young man, the pair enjoy a spontaneous one night stand. But it transpires that he’s a student at the college where she teaches and someone has taken photographs of their encounter, soon beginning an upsetting campaign of blackmail.
After the excitement of the opening chapters, in which Kim and her protector escape the meeting and are pursued by thugs, the pace cools to an atmosphere of building tension. Despite the stress of being blackmailed, Kim attempts to go about her normal daily life. But as the days go by, she is stalked by an intimidating and obnoxious man, and worries about who she can trust.
Kim assumes, quite reasonably, that her blackmailer is something to do with the proposed golf course she opposes, but the threatening letters that keep dropping on her doormat don’t seem to demand anything specific and serve only to unsettle. Then a dead body turns up on the beach, and the mystery – and the fear – really starts to escalate.
This is a slick and addictive novel. Kim is investable in her normality – a likeable and self-aware everywoman – and the way she is torn between rationality and paranoia is convincing. I love the way the unease is slowly stoked, and Kim starts to see menace in even the most benign locations of sunny Seagrave’s promenades, streets and bars. The small town vibes become very oppressive as the book progresses, especially as further disquieting mysteries are trickled into the mix.
Although a modern psychological thriller, “We Were Seen” has fun shades of a traditional whodunit. Just like our unfortunate protagonist, we suspect that the blackmailer is someone she knows – or has at least met – and there are a great cast of well-written players to choose from.
As well as the obviously nefarious characters such as Glover – the unethical tycoon wanting to build the golf course – and the creep stalking her, we wonder who else might be involved. Her social circle includes several lecturers and staff at the college, her grandfather and his photographer protégé, as well as other councillors, locals, and friends from the golf course protest group. They’re all fully-rounded, but often just enigmatic enough so that we can’t completely eliminate them from suspicion.
This is what I enjoyed. Kim’s paranoia, even though perfectly justified, is infectious. As readers, we start to be wary of everything and everyone; the sinister in the mundane is a great tool and perfectly applied here.
This novel is easy to read with lucid prose and a well-gauged pace, and very compulsive; I found it very easy to lose myself to just one more chapter. This is all the more impressive in that its page-turning quality doesn’t need to come from chapter cliffhangers or sudden jeopardy. It instills a desire to read on purely from the mounting insidious tone.
After this ratcheting of baleful atmosphere throughout the book, the finale is breathtaking and dark. The last few chapters are grim, exciting and genuinely unputdownable. I was gripped, hunched over the page and unblinking as the real world faded to irrelevance around me, which is not something that happens very often.
“We Were Seen” left me satisfied – as everything falls neatly into place – and also in need of a breather from the twist and reveal. It’s also credit to Mark West’s mastery of the writing craft that I was left with the feeling I’d actually been to Seagrave and met all these people, thanks to his knack for characterisation and creating a palpable sense of place.
It definitely won’t be as long as last time before I read another of his books. In fact, his list of thriller novels on The Book Folks site is calling out to me right now. If this review has piqued your interest, you could certainly do a lot worse than visiting it yourself.
I’ve never been a particular fan of traditional or mainstream Westerns, but the tropes of scorched plains, dusty towns, gunslingers and frontier justice provide a great canvas for a pulp horror story.
Having read Richard Beauchamp’s superb dystopian “War Born” last year (my favourite in the “Heavy Metal Nightmares” anthology), I thought his textured prose and talent for conjuring unforgiving wastelands would make him an ideal writer to smash these two genres together. Reading Triptych certainly proved that to be the case.
It opens with “The Courier” in which Jeremiah – the titular character – meets a sinister man in a snow-covered tavern. He is tasked with transporting a strange artifact across several states, in time for solstice eve, and delivering it to a known practitioner of the dark arts.
His journey takes him into the harshest of blizzards during which Jeremiah is stalked and attacked by men who try to warn him of what he carries. Townspeople – and even mountain lions – shy away from his presence, and what begins as a professional dedication to his job soon becomes a protective obsession. He regards the strangely-warm package as his talisman, and it seems to keep him going on his brutal journey long after any mortal should surely have perished.
This tale brings the classic setting of the loner traversing the American West on his trusty steed, but slowly morphs it into cosmic and visceral horror. I read it straight through, driven by a hungry curiosity that was masterfully stoked by the author, and the evocation of the frozen mountainous terrain is perfect. An intriguing and compulsive read with a devilish pay off, this is a sterling start to Triptych.
Following this is “Blood Gulch” which is by far my favourite piece of the three. It doesn’t hang around, immediately presenting an infestation of slug-like monstrosities that burrow into people’s spines and control them as hosts. Our protagonist is Maylene, a woman in search of her missing husband who has been taken by the foul creatures – along with countless others – to an ominous subterranean cave at Blood Gulch.
What awaits there is a wrenching vision of hell, and I wouldn’t dream of spoiling the surprise.
Maylene is a brilliant character – a gun-toting, sharp-tongued badass who will stop at nothing to look after herself and her own. Throw her into a story of revolting parasites against a backdrop of boiling sun, alcohol, blood and dust, and you’ve got an absolute winner.
It shines through its storytelling towards a satisfying epilogue, and the plentiful and gritty period language seems authentic, bringing a grounding realism to the sf/horror concept. With shades of Cormac McCarthy’s “Blood Meridian”, David Cronenberg, Calamity Jane and the Aliens mythos, “Blood Gulch” is worth the price of Triptych alone.
“It Comes For Us All” is the finale, co-written with Korey Dawson. Here we find a sharp-shooting indigenous bounty hunter called Sho’keh. He is transporting a dangerous criminal, Tom Dallion, across the bandit-populated desert and frontier towns of the Mojave to where he will finally meet justice.
But the wisecracking prisoner seems to be undergoing a strange transformation, and once the blood moon rises, pandemonium will be unleashed.
“Dallion’s eyes shone in the moonlight, somehow moving in the stillness of his smiling face, like silver coins in the bottom of a disturbed well.”
My complaint with this story is that I kept losing track of who was speaking, especially during the opening scenes, despite only two characters being present. This was mainly due to the overuse of character tags as well as their names (the older man said, the bounty hunter said, the man on the ground said…) which was confusing and unnecessary.
But the characters are solid, the dynamic between the two leads is convincing, and Dallion’s gruff retorts and escalating creepiness is a great foil for Sho’keh’s pragmatic patience. The foreboding tone slowly cranks up throughout their journey, building to a grisly “Splatter Western” showdown.
Richard Beauchamp has definitely climbed up my horror watch list with this release. Triptych brims with exquisite turns of phrase and slick dialogue, and he clearly makes an effort with historical attention to detail. The landscape becomes an integral part of the tales, essential with any quality Western, and the author’s knack for creating an immersive atmosphere is perfectly suited to this kind of fiction.
Merging the spooky eldritch with gore, it should please fans of both camps. As a devotee of both, I had a splendid time.
“Hell comes at High Noon” indeed.
Richard Beauchamp
Hot on the heels of their excellent Heavy Metal Nightmares, Phobica Books have produced another quality themed anthology in the form of Terrors from the Toy Box.
The blurb promised “devil dolls and terrifying teddies, abominable action figures and gruesome games all lying in wait for the opportunity to be free to wreak terror” and it certainly delivers on that.
Some of the tales are obviously supernatural whereas with others, the horror is of the non-magical variety and born from obsession or the darkness that lurks inside people. Sometimes it’s both, and I enjoyed being kept guessing as each story began, as well as wondering what horrors were about to be unleashed when a toy made its appearance.
There’s a good range of styles from the selected authors and the chills are delivered in different ways be that malevolent atmosphere, gruesome shocks or emotional clout. There are also some interesting and subtle concepts that throw shade on the wider world as a whole.
Although I enjoyed all the fiction in this book, here are a handful of those that really stood out for me.
“Faux Joe” by M.J. McClymont is narrated by Tommy, a man concerned about his old friend Joe: a lonely character obsessed with his immaculate and pristine action figure collection. Joe believes his plastic figures to be perfect in every way, and Tommy slowly realises that his troubled friend has concocted a grim plan to improve his life by achieving this supposed perfection for himself. Relatable feelings collide with body horror to create a very compulsive read, and the final line concludes it perfectly on a wry and ominous note.
“Pooky” by Tim Jeffreys concerns Bethany, a girl who cajoles her divorced parents into buying her an old but collectible teddy bear, and it’s not long before things take a spooky turn. A voice seems to be heard talking to Pooky from Bethany’s room, and the child herself speaks of another girl in the house. It has emotional depth for what is one of the shorter pieces in the anthology – merging the stressful domestic troubles of the family with the lurking supernatural – along with some very haunting moments, and a nicely gauged pay off.
In “A Decent Guy” by Wil Forbis, we meet Bennett: a successful family man whose son has a new action figure called Justice Man. But we soon learn that Bennett, who is a loving father and a “decent guy” around his family and community, has a dark and sadistic side that must be assuaged by violence of the most disturbing kind. An increasingly unpleasant descent, the story is crafted into something ultimately very satisfying, all neatly bookended by its own theme.
“Enid’s Dollhouse” by Harriet Phoenix begins with a fairly benign tone as we find young Enid, a girl who loves to collect dolls and play with them, rebuffing her parents’ gentle attempts to dissuade her from expanding her growing collection. This is a very cleverly structured piece. At first there are things that don’t quite seem to make sense, but then everything falls into place, and there’s a cold and terrifying moment of realisation for the reader. With shades of The Twilight Zone, I immediately re-read it and got to enjoy the subtle nuances and pre-reveal attention to detail in a completely different way. Brilliant stuff.
“Lillybet Lollipop” by Scotty Milder is a superb take on the old creepypasta theme. Here, a young man named Mark stumbles across a dusty and obsolete gaming console at a garage sale, along with the game of the title: an ultra-rare cartridge that was swiftly withdrawn from circulation after supposedly terrible things happened to the people who played it. This is a gripping and deftly structured read – switching between Mark’s experience with the malignant game and transcripts of an urban legend podcast about Lillybet Lollipop – as the author takes us on a dizzying and violent journey into madness.
“Kia stood a few steps behind the yellow line, clinging to her little brother’s hand, two over-stuffed rucksacks by her legs, and seriously considered letting go of him and walking out in front of the train that was rapidly approaching.”
Thus begins “A Sister’s Love” by Annie Knox, hooking me in from the start. Kia is a girl on the run with her younger brother Kevin after she has murdered their father for reasons that we don’t initially know. Desperate and out of her depth, she tries to protect him and find somewhere to stay, but is increasingly frustrated by how the young lad seems to talk to someone through various toys. A convincing portrayal of fragile and broken human psyches, this tragic spiral has pathos by the bucketload. It packs several heart-breaking punches, and is definitely the most memorable and powerful tale in the anthology for me.
Although these were my favourites, all the stories bring something to the party. For example, opener “Ma Gentry’s Dream Catcher” by Richard Beauchamp is thick with the evocative atmosphere of its rural witchcraft setting and “Little Red Case” by J Benjamin Sanders Jr has some masterful scenes of unnerving anticipation delivered by a haunted dollhouse. “Uncanny” by Mia Dalia nails the uncanny valley concept, and “A Toy For Zubin” by Galen Gower brings both dark humour and an insidiously nasty tone to the possessed toy trope.
There is much to like about Terrors from the Toy Box. The pieces are often character driven, which is something that can be overlooked elsewhere due to a prime focus on scares or ideas. Without investable or realistic protagonists, short fiction is difficult to care about, and Phobica Books clearly recognise that.
What I also enjoyed is that with such a childhood-related theme, nostalgic feelings inevitably abound, and some of the tales inspired wistfulness for times or toys that weren’t even mine which is a solid and impressive feat.
This is one of those books that I constantly wanted to get back to whenever forced to put it down because real life was dragging me away. Thanks to Phobica Books for the escapism, and I will definitely be keeping a close eye on their future output.
“After over indulging in an Amsterdam coffee-shop, Jennifer wakes in her hotel room to a terrifyingly vague emergency alert message on her phone. On the other side of town, the same alert saves Jonah from the world’s worst stag-do. Soon both of them will be fighting for their lives on the cobbled streets of Amsterdam.
Will these ordinary people overcome exceptional circumstances and be able to live with the choices they make? Will they even make it out alive? It’s not always survival of the fittest!”
I bought ‘The Last Night in Amsterdam’ because I wanted a lively outbreak story to devour, and having visited Amsterdam several times (including on stag-dos), the idea of nostalgic familiarity appealed.
And devoured it was. In the tradition of the best classic zombie stories, we don’t just get suspense, screaming and airborne entrails, but also a taut and sobering analysis of the human condition, tempered with heart and humour.
The book is largely narrated by Jennifer and Jonah in a deftly crafted flashback structure. We learn immediately that both have survived the zombie outbreak that ravaged the city, and are now pole-axed by PTSD and attempting to deal with the experience. It also becomes clear that as well as the trauma, they both engaged in activities that continue to haunt them.
You need assured writing for this to work, and the author presents two strong lead voices. Jennifer is single, travelling alone, and hoping the trip to Amsterdam will be a cure for her annual winter blues. Jonah is on a stag-do with his old football mates, but is struggling with the bar-hopping hedonism of the group and would rather be in a museum, or even better, at home with his girlfriend.
Both are investable, engaging characters and often droll with their outlook on life. They present that bridge between youth and sensible adulthood: still in possession of some adventure but with a healthy injection of cynicism and wisdom. But most importantly they’re believable, which is why we empathise, and the plentiful dialogue is natural and sharp.
The secondary players are just as real, even the ones we might dislike, such as best man Ross from the doomed stag-do who is a manipulative and irritating bell-end. Relatable feelings abound throughout, and it was largely this that immediately kept pulling me back to the book whenever I got the chance.
What also makes this story stand above many of its similar peers, is that I didn’t just want to find out what happened next. I wanted to know how the protagonists felt about recent events. I wanted to know how they would decide what to do, and how would they deal with the consequences. This level of character focus is what really elevates a piece.
The pace is perfect, nimbly changing gears as it moves from past to present. From breathless chases through the canal and corpse-lined streets of Amsterdam to atmospheric scenes of foreboding, the author gauges our anticipation perfectly. The zombie creatures, with their creative and horrific injury detail, are runners rather than shamblers, which elevates the pace to breakneck speed when required.
There’s a flavour to Melanie Atkinson’s writing, and the evocation of everything from smells to vibes to facial expressions is immaculately presented with crisp attention to detail. Similes aren’t intrusively overused, but the ones we get are lovely. For example “The thing moved in a disjointed hobble, like a ravenous marionette that had broken its strings and come to life” paints such a striking and ghastly picture of an approaching zombie that no further description is required.
Thanks to this skilled writing, we also get a feel for the city. It’s a palpable place in this story, which makes the descent into hell even more potent. There’s a scene at the start of the outbreak in which a morning crowd gathers beside of a canal to see a rising dune of waterlogged undead trying to scramble out, and it has such a beautifully nightmarish quality that it feels like an actual memory.
There are plenty of surprises towards the end, and the finale is satisfying and appropriate, bookending the whole thing with fiendish style.
I’ll certainly keep my eye out for Melanie Atkinson’s future work. Like some of the better zombie tales I’ve read, ‘The Last Night in Amsterdam’ isn’t carried purely by the violent gruesome elements. Although these are riveting and superb, the true darkness of the piece comes through the fragilities, instincts and actions of the characters. There’s so much relatable humanity here. Decision making, regret, survival instinct, friendship, peer dynamics, graveyard humour, hubris, guilt and social anxiety are rendered raw onto the page, all too familiar and utterly convincing. Try as we might, we can’t ignore the discomfort of wondering what we would’ve done in several of their situations.
But the author keeps it all from becoming too intense with dark humour throughout, and coming from the wry perspectives of our narrators, this keeps the book at just the perfect tone for peak enjoyment.
Recommended.
Amazon Kindle link
“Welcome to the Vanishing Point, that place on the horizon where the lines of reality and imagination intersect. In that place is a promise of excitement, dread, intrigue, and suspense. The Vanishing Point is a triannual literary magazine for works that bend reality. Horror, Sci-fi, Dark Fantasy, and all things speculative are welcome here.”
I wasn’t familiar with this magazine, picked up the latest issue, and was happy to discover that it lived up to this promising blurb. The 6 short stories are varied and good quality, and it was the perfect way to start a grey and rain-drenched morning.
“A Strange Night in Sabbatville” by Joseph Hirsch kicks things off. This supernatural account concerns a man whose car breaks down in the semi-rural town of the title and finds his way to an old-fashioned B&B. Beautifully told, it has an engaging 1st person voice and a spooky and palpable sense of place.
“Tomorrow’s Agony” by Spencer Nitkey is narrated by a man who is captured by thugs and must pay an inherited debt that belonged to his late father. I enjoyed this very dark short, which succeeds through its original chilling concept and downbeat conclusion.
In “Bugs” by Paul O’Neill we meet Nick, a man on the verge of losing everything to his drug addiction, who is infested with some strange bugs under a bridge and discovers that they might help him out of his rut. An unpredictable sf/horror that hooked me from the off, it has the feel of an escalating nightmare with a satisfying and sharp sting in the tail.
“The Chitters” by Keith LaFountaine begins with tragedy, as family man Frank watches his young son suddenly die during a baseball game, and through childhood flashbacks realises that the reason for the death comes from his past. Immediately investable through attention to detail, this is a good old-school chiller.
“The Double” by Jocelyn Szczepaniak-Gillece is told by a woman trapped in a besieged city who sees a doppelganger of herself whilst attempting to board an evacuation train. An intriguing tale in which all is not as it seems, it ensures you don’t stop until the haunting and elegiac finale.
Finally, “Hurts to Breathe” by Scott J. Moses is the story of a healthcare worker revisiting her abandoned home during some kind of gas-induced zombie apocalypse. It’s a melancholy horror piece, nicely balancing violence with emotion, and concludes the issue on an appropriate high.
All the stories here are well written with muscular ideas and satisfying payoffs. There’s a pleasing range of dark speculative fiction, some mysterious and offbeat, some horrific and suspenseful, and the mix of authorial tones and directions make for an interesting read. I’ll definitely be revisiting The Vanishing Point again for more.
Available in print and electronic versions, visit the website here.
“Visit ancient Rome, lunar settlements, and alien worlds. Meet zombies and vampires, mermen, dragons, and demons. Experience nano-technology and watch history happen from a time machine. Barbara Davies explores the spectrum of speculative fiction in this collection of entertaining and thought-provoking stories.”
This collection is a few years old now, but I purchased it on a whim for my Kindle because of this very blurb. I discovered an offbeat and vivid cauldron of fantasy, science fiction and horror with lots of heart, crisp prose and imagination delivered in style.
It opens with the title story “Into the Yellow” which turned out to be one of my favourites. This concerns Kesho, a member of a community of chameleonic lizard-like creatures in a glacial mountain region, fed up with her lot and consumed by the desire to explore. She decides to leave her isolated community and row across the “yellow” – a poisonous and lethal expanse of fog – beyond which lies the possibility of meeting other creatures. Full of creative attention to detail, character investment and feeling, this is a charming adventure, tackling the passion and discontentment of youth, and enhanced by expertly woven moments of jeopardy.
“Lone Wolf” introduces a werewolf hunter called Tarian who also has darkness within herself. Along with Peter, a mild-mannered bookseller, she faces a challenging night in a small village churchyard. A neat tale with plenty of action and scares.
“Morris Dancing” made me smile, in which a medieval pilgrim is attacked by a dragon he believes to be Satan. This humorous short cuts straight to the chase and is elevated by POV switches between the beast and its religious prey, and a perfectly gauged comic tone.
In “Cordie and the Merman”, Cordie is a fishing boat skipper – a woman in a very masculine environment – who accidentally snags a merman and is torn with what to do with the injured creature. It’s unpredictable, twisting and turning like a slippery sea creature itself towards the conclusion.
“Caverns of the Heart” concerns Mira, a girl resigned to working in the dangerous mines on an alien planet. She finds something unusual that inspires a change of heart in an adventure full of inspiration.
“Babalawo’s Drum” transports us to Elizabethan times in which Rob, a young English boy, is forced into serving a new master after the death of his rogue father. But after settling into his new life with an apparently benevolent master, he discovers something both illegal and horrific is going on. It’s an atmospheric period horror with a deft sense of escalating dread.
In “High Flier” we meet Jeff, a young man starting a job with a lunar transport company, who gets his first girlfriend. Of all the pieces in this collection, I thought this had the slowest start and wasn’t immediately easy to engage, but I enjoyed the evocation of the moon colony and how it speculates that workplace dynamics and young relationships in the future are no less awkward or full of pitfalls than those of the present.
“Journey to Niskor” introduces Viro, a somewhat snobby, travelling magical healer, who needs to cross a vast frozen expanse. He hires a local peasant woman named Ajysyt to transport him with her sled and team of huskies. Viro finds his male viewpoint challenged by his expert female guide, and it soon turns into a survivalist journey into the bitter cold. The cruel environment of snow and trees is beautifully evoked, and I enjoyed learning about Ajysyt’s techniques of keeping both themselves and the dogs alive in such extreme conditions. Although Viro can be entitled and sexist, this is all part of his journey and there is hope that he learns a lot from the expedition.
“Time and the Maid” involves a machine that can access the past, and when a drunk student alters Joan of Arc’s timeline by pretending to be an angel, Professor Marcus Williams has to try and fix it. It ignores the true impact of the butterfly effect, as most time-travel fiction tends to do, but it’s neatly crafted and the ending is pleasing and unexpected.
“Throwback” concerns Milos, a young vampire who is struggling with the discovery that he’ll never be able to fly like his friends due to impurities in his ancestral bloodline. But one night, when followed by some vampire-hating human lads, it appears his supposed flaws might be the key to getting them out of trouble. The author has fun with the traditional tropes of the vampire myth, and it’s actually more about teenagers coming of age than monsters.
In “A Question of Gender,” we find a group of scientists studying an alien race who discover that they have unpleasant views regarding the roles of males and females. But when one of the scientists is gifted a female alien from the male warlord, supposedly for his harem, things take a dark turn. This is thoughtful and exciting science fiction with some interesting biological science and clever surprises up its sleeve.
We are transported to a haunted house in ancient Rome for “The House on the Via Aurelia”. It follows Quintus, a household spirit, whose ordered routine is upset by the arrival of a troublesome and deceitful family ghost. Although I found the story somewhat wordy and overly detailed, I enjoyed the dialogue which has been considerably modernised – I suspect deliberately – for entertaining effect.
“Dog and Kat” is a futuristic tale told through two 1st person perspectives: Dog, a genetically-enhanced dog that belongs to a troubled artist called Heather, and Kat, a woman with whom the artist has as an extra-marital affair. The perspectives work well, particularly that of the innocent and empathetic dog and his constant attempts to understand what he is seeing, and things soon descend towards a shocking conclusion. Although thought-provoking and sharp, be warned that the ending is very unpleasant, and it was the only piece that made me feel genuinely cold.
“The Creature in the Cut” follows a group of boatpeople who discover that a murderous monster of some kind is living in one of their canal tunnels. As they plan to burn it or lure it out of hiding, this turns into a creature feature, with solid characterisation and action.
Finally, “Demonsbane” is an erotically charged ride in which Brad, an ordinary student, meets a rock band and their manager – Regan – and is caught up in a supernatural world of shapeshifting and demoncraft. It’s colourful and noisy, and the somewhat vanilla character of Brad perfectly elevates the strong and mysterious Regan, who has dark talents way beyond what he might have imagined.
I enjoyed Into the Yellow. The stories are short, largely well-crafted and easy to fall into, and there’s a distinct sense of originality throughout. Horror, sf and fantasy can be very well beaten paths when it comes to plot and setting, yet with this book, I often had that pleasing feeling that I was wandering into fresh territories of imagination.
Barbara Davies’ storytelling style brings her worlds into very clear focus, the prose generally being vibrant and evocative without intruding on the stories, and she can inject immediate whimsy, humour, threat or darkness as appropriate with just a few concise words. I also like that she includes brief notes with each piece that explain the inspiration.
Whether the setting is a modern, historical, fantasy or alien world, the characters are real and their plights often investable. And although many of the stories have wry humour and warmth, there are plenty of chills to remind us that life isn’t always like that.
Just as the blurb promised, a thought-provoking and entertaining collection. The yellow is waiting for you.
Welcome to the Hellforge 