Tag Archives: Horror Review

Review: “Triptych: Three Tales of Frontier Horror” by Richard Beauchamp

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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

Review: “Terrors from the Toy Box” – Phobica Books

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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.

Phobica Books

Review: The Vanishing Point #6

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“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.

Review: “Heavy Metal Nightmares” – Phobica Books

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I’ve been a fan of both horror fiction and heavy metal since I was a kid, so this release from Phobica Books was bagged and devoured the moment I clapped eyes on it.

I was pleased to find that beneath that perfect cover lurks a wild and varied selection of twenty stories. They feature the genre staples of monsters, ghosts, curses, possessions and dark whimsies of all kinds, but there are also nightmares of the non-supernatural variety and a couple that feature futuristic and grim speculative concepts.

Most importantly, the overall vibe of the book very much captures the different aspects of heavy metal and its many subgenres. The tone swings from bleak and haunting moods right through to horn-throwing, tongue-in-cheek horror shenanigans, and everything in between.

Heavy Metal Nightmares has an air of celebration. As you can imagine, the authors have a passion for the music – some of them being metal musicians themselves – and this love bleeds from the writing. And although there are song and band references scattered throughout that will delight the metalheads, they don’t intrude or overwhelm if this isn’t really your actual scene.

Here are a few of my standout favourites.

“Phantoms” by Tim Jeffreys is the muscular opening act of the anthology. It is told by the frontman of a rock band called Phantoms, who acquires an ancient song from a mysterious groupie, as well as a spooky picture of an old house. Both these things become instrumental in the band’s swift and almost overnight success, but bad things soon happen and people start to die. Riffing on the classic curse trope, it becomes compulsive, uneasy reading with a potent sense of inevitable doom.

I really enjoyed “Metal Bones” by Mia Dalia. A band called Cerberus decide to build a catacomb-styled ossuary of real bones in which to record their demo. They plunder graveyards for the skeletons with which to construct it, but their actions aren’t without consequence. Told with rich prose and smooth attention to detail, I particularly loved the unexpected, brutal yet emotively elegiac climax: possibly the best finale in the anthology.

Strap on your seatbelt for “War Born” by Richard Beauchamp: an epic and deafening slab of industrial cyberpunk horror that took my breath from its first page to its last. The setting is a radiation-drenched, dystopian nightmare that makes Mad Max look like a children’s fairytale. We follow guitarist Tjal setting off on tour with the War Born: the heaviest and loudest band in the world, who are feared and despised by the ruthless military powers that be.

The author builds an incredible world, full of superb imagination and textured prose, as we are dragged along on a nasty and colourful ride through a boozy, chemical wasteland of biomechanical mutants, twisted tech, atomic-powered subwoofers and vast speaker towers laying gruesome waste to all before them. The chaos is held together by a neat subversive theme as the band plan to play a literally city-wrecking gig on the doorstep of the world’s ruling magistrate. Never have scenes of visceral, apocalyptic hell been so exciting and enjoyable, and this was my favourite of the anthology.

In “Bloodlines” by Paul Sheldon, we meet Joe, a guitarist in a band who audition a new Flying V-wielding guitarist called Mike. Although he slays like a metal legend and seems like a nice bloke, Joe becomes jealous of Mike’s skills and realises something is not quite right about him: nobody in the scene has heard of him or seen him before. It keeps us guessing with “deal with the devil” type suggestions in a tale that has strong character dynamics and a wicked glint in its eye of which the metal gods would approve.

“Black-Metal Baker” by William J. Donahue is a very well crafted story about Jared, a croissant-master who runs a small, independent bakery, and has a black metal band as a side hustle. After he is interviewed by a local magazine, we realise that one of his band mates takes the whole satanic misanthropy mindset much more seriously than him. Written in an enjoyably sharp and evocative style, this is a satisfying piece full of horror and devilry (and baking) that never quite lets on about which direction it’s going to take, and concludes on a melancholy, pitch-perfect note.

“A Darker Sound” by M. J. McClymont features the plight of Angus, driving home, who ends up lost out in the middle of nowhere. He stops at an isolated farm, owned by an old man who is fascinated with the occult and extreme satanic metal, so of course it’s not long before things take an upsetting turn. Full of slick storytelling, deft turns of phrase, and thick with atmosphere, this is nice mixture of old-school quiet horror and the modern violent variety. It would make a great episode of “The Twilight Zone”.

“A Cold Slither Killing” by Angelique Fawns requires no gore or supernatural activity to pack its chilling punch. We meet Glenna and Michelle, two work colleagues who are both fans of a shock rock band called Cold Slither. After an incident with a snake in a river, in which Glenna saves Michelle’s life but only after some hesitation, their friendship is damaged. So they attempt to repair it by going to see Cold Slither perform live together. This story has a beautifully timed dark reveal that makes the early snippets of detail fall cleverly into place, and boasts a conclusion that neatly bookends the whole thing. All this combines with convincing characters and dialogue to make it a very powerful and memorable piece.

I’ll also mention “In Extremis” by Sally Neave. Here, the drummer for the eponymous band wakes up, terribly injured and locked in a storage room below the stage where his band are playing a very important gig. It’s an immediately engrossing, straightforward short with a stinging twist that I’d half-guessed by the end, but still thoroughly enjoyed due to the vivid writing and claustrophobic sense of desperation.

This is only a handful of what is on offer, just being those that particularly spoke to me, but there wasn’t a story in Heavy Metal Nightmares that didn’t bring something to the hellish party.

Given the theme, several of the stories naturally describe gigs in some detail and the lurid rock and roll lifestyle of groupies, drugs and booze. This can get a little samey occasionally, but there’s enough variation in the tales to break it up and I was never bored.

The protagonists and characters are generally well written, whether likeable or nefarious, and we often find ourselves in their corner despite their shortcomings. The stories tend towards strong finales, be them concrete or open, downbeat or gleeful, and there’s some pleasing classic shock twists.

If you like horror fiction or heavy metal, you’ll find something to enjoy in this anthology. If you like both, you’ll find plenty to love. They make excellent bedfellows.
I’ll leave you with the words of the back-cover blurb:

“Get in the mosh pit, rock your head, throw those devil horns in the air and get ready to turn your fear up to eleven!”