(1988)
 
“Once upon a time…”
I whisper from the darkest corner of the cupboard, drawing my thin legs tighter to my sparrow chest.   
I clap my hands over my ears. Gritting teeth, fighting tears. The dread rhythm pounds through the walls as loud as fury. I want to be anywhere but a shadow in the dark. An ice cream truck lullaby plays outside the house as the shouts behind closed doors climb to screams before fading into pleas before silencing into whimpers.
“There was a Prince …”
Only a matter of time before it’s my turn. Only a matter of time before I will have to tell the world I fell down the stairs again. Me, the little boy, the small commitment that ruined his stepfather’s life. Not the drink. Not the job he hated. Not poor life choices. No. It was everything else that my stepfather had to carry around, the mighty weight around his neck, a cross he had to bear.
“I had one wish…”
The rhythms gather cadence, thunderous knuckles of hard bone crack against my mother’s skull with lightning strikes.
Words. Bad words. Words that no one should use but do. Ugly spiked words. Bitch. Cunt. Whore. Each word punctuated with a fist.
A silence falls.  I remain in the cupboard, lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete.
It is the first night I do not hear my mother cry herself to sleep.
“If then the monsters could not see him, then they could escape…”
Little do I know that’s where my habit of telling stories begins, but over time I don’t realise this yet, but it truly hasn’t taken hold yet. 
 
(1993)
 
My friends know I scare easily. They try everything they can because they think it is funny. Jumping, shrieking from the shadows in Halloween masks, even in the height of summer. They lure me into watching horror films without warning me, it’s not until the guts spill and the monsters appear that I know. I begin to imagine stories about my friends being trapped with the monsters as I picture my revenge. Over time, I grow sick of being scared. I start to read scary books so I don’t have to be scared anymore, but I don’t begin with Goosebumps, I go in at the deep end, head on. I go to the library and find a book called IT by a man called Stephen King. It’s about being scared and about being a kid, about kids facing down monsters with their friends. There are times I have to close the book because the monster overwhelms me, a far cry from the Roald Dahl books I had been reading before now. I stick with Bill, Ritchie, Bev, Mike, Ben, and Stanley, this group of friends who find in each other a way to overcome those fears, those monsters. It is then I realise that my friends didn’t actually want to scare me because they were being horrible, they wanted me to be part of something. They knew that feeling of how your nerves clicked like roller coaster cogs pulling up to an inevitable long plunge and that feeling of excitement that came with it and wanted to share it with me. They wanted to find in me the way I could in them in a way to not only conquer the fear but embrace it.
 
(2011)
 
My friends are long gone, I am a man with a family and a library of monsters. I miss that time and those people, that feeling of being part of something bigger than myself, Horror. Fear. I write my first story for an open anthology and I am accepted. I am now a published writer. I now not only want to find more monsters, but I also want to create them. I find that there are others out there also who heed the call of the dark and it is there I find a place I want to belong forever, there in the horror community with the writers, the reviewers, the readers, and the late night horror buffs I now share my passion.
With each new word, sentence and paragraph, I finally understand a little more why I began writing horror and why I continue to do so.
There in the dark, I found light. 

Rob Teun writes Sci-fi, Horror, and Fantasy. He lives in Lincolnshire with his family. He can be found on Twitter: @rob_teun

For those who have been fans of Games Workshop's tabletop wargaming multiverses, it's no great revelation that the -expansive, to say the least- mythologies accrued around them derive influences from so many sources, it would take several lifetimes to list them.
 
From the grim-dark, dystopian styles and settings of 2000AD to the artwork of H.R. Giger, from The Lord of the Rings to The Eternal Champion series, there are influences and touch-stones from throughout popular media, mythology, history and practically every source or tradition one might name (including Romantic poetry and Batman comics).
 
But perhaps one that is least remarked upon, despite its utter pervasiveness, is horror.
 
Horror in all of its glorious forms and manifestations has always been a key part of what makes Games Workshop's settings distinct.
 
At the company's original formulation of the classic Warhammer franchise, the now non-existent “Old World” (it experienced something of a metaphysical apocalypse a little while ago and now consists of various “realms” that aesthetially resemble Roger Dean prog-rock album covers) was comprised primarily of a Lord of the Rings style fantasy setting, flourished with darker, more surreal influences from the likes of Michael Moorcock and H.P. Lovecraft.
 
Whilst the world did (and still does, in a manner of speaking) contain the likes of elves and dwarves and others not a million miles away from J.R.R Tolkien's various Middle Earth denizens, it also incorporated numerous forms and styles of more horrific entities, from the undead legions of Nagash, the Great Sorcerer and demi-god of death itself, to the folk-lore and fairy-tale inspired Beastmen and Skaven (Rat-Men, essentially). The nature of the setting and of its wider metaphysics was to comprise numerous elements and smoosh them together into a great, heaving whole where players and hobbyists of various influence and intrigue could pick as and how they wanted to engage with it.
 
Even the fundamental metaphysics of that universe is one of Lovecraftian nihilism and cosmic hopelessness: beyond the bounds of waking reality lies The Realm of Chaos or the Warp; a state of utter abstraction, where thoughts, emotions and drives coalesce to form states of being and even entities, which we call variously daemons, angels and spirits. The most powerful and pervasive of those entities are the Four Great Powers of Chaos, beings of supremely divine scale and influence formed from the most fundamental drives of humanity and the other sentient races: Khorne, the lord of rage and violence, Tzeentch, the Great Schemer, master of change, revolution and intrigue, Nurgle, patron of despair and disease and -my personal favourite-, Slaanesh, the Prince of desire and pleasure, scion of sadism and delight.
 
These four entities and their servants underpin the true darkness of this reality, in that they are a threat to the souls and sanity of all that exist in it: whilst there are other gods and powers (Nagash himself was a mortal man who effectively cultivated his own ascension to a dark godhood to deny the Four Great Powers), they are often either too weak or ephemeral to prevail agains the Great Four or are merely adjuncts to or aspects of them, meaning that the metaphysics of this reallity is one of utter despair and abjection.
 
The raw, metaphysical horror of that situation (almost every soul in existence is ultimately condemned to Chaos, in some way, shape or form) is one that has been explored in the past, but rarely to any great degree. Likewise, the more horrific elements of forces like the various species of Undead that pervaded the Old World (and that now infest the Mortal Realms) have generally been passed over in favour of broader, more action-oriented tales of grand warfare that echo the table top miniatures wargames themselves.
 
With the destruction of the Old World and the establishment of the Mortal Realms, not only did Games Workshop take the opportunity to move the setting and its races away from their original influences, they have drawn upon an entirely new suite of inspirations to lend them more in the way of flare and originality.
 
Take the various stripes of Undead that now exist in the multiverse: originally, the Undead forces were the token “gothic horror” army, consisting of necromancers, raised skeletons and zombies, bats, wolves, spirits and vampires. Since that time, the force has split into various sub-factions, each of which has its own ethos and aesthetics, its own mythology and character:
 
Now, we have the various Legions of Nagash, which comprise forces formed entirely of raised skeletons and zombies, shambling hordes of classic Undead that resemble those that came before, but also the Night Haunts, entire armies of ghosts and spirits that draw aesthetic influence from sources as far flung as Edgar Allen Poe, the Dark Souls series of video games and even the Night on Bald Mountain segment of Disney's Fantasia. Counterpointed to them, we have the likes of the Flesh Eater Courts, a race of devolved and degenerate vampires that have become bestial, bat-like mockeries of their former nobility, cannibalistic hordes that live in cemetery wastelands and graveyard realms, feasting on the mouldering dead but believing themselves to be knightly houses and noble courts, their delusion in and of itself a peculiar form of horror.
 
The various forces of Chaos and its patrons have become even more densely characterised and distinct in this new setting, efforts being made to truly emphasise the variety of horror and disturbia they comprise: from the overt violence and mania of the Blades of Khorne to the far more subtle, conspiratorial Disciples of Tzeentch or the festering, “body-horror” grotesquery of the Maggotkin of Nurgle, the setting boasts so much potential for and so many shades of horror, it's truly a wonder that Games Workshop has not capitalised on this element of the background more sincerely before.
 
Then we have the fantasy setting's science fiction equivalent, Warhammer 40,000, a far-flung dystopia in which humanity has reached out from its birth-world of Earth (or “Terra,” as it is known here) only to find a universe of utter hostility; a condition infested with alien horrors and metaphysical threats, from the clearly Alien-inspired Tryanids and Genestealer Cults to the various forces of Chaos that simultaneously exist in this setting.
 
Argubaly even moreso than either Warhammer or its latter day incarnation, Age of Sigmar, Warhammer 40,000 has always had a more overtly dark, dystopian tone and exhibited its horrific influences far more freely:
 
The various forces of humanity are presented in no great flattering light here: the empire of humanity, known as “The Imperium of Man,” is a sprawling, theocratic dystopia in which the worth of an individual human being or even an individual world of human beings is meaningless: in which humanity itself is a resource to be lobotomised, surgically cultivated to its proscribed purpose and expended. Here, the empire of humanity is an impossible to organise, sprawling, byzantine nightmare in which individuals are granted the power to enact genocide on a whim, in which insitituions are given license to apprehend, torture, mutilate and murder as and how they will it in the name of the so-called “God-Emperor of Mankind,” in which science and technology have devolved to matters of superstition, being regarded as almost supernatural phenomena, technology taking on the quality of magic or miracles.
 
This is before we even get into matters such as the influence of Chaos, which warps the minds and bodies of its adherents into impossible, heaving nightmares of Cronenbergian abomination, the Genestealer Cults, the products of parasitic aliens that implant human beings with their own genetic material, resulting in the birth of human-alien hybrids that can infest and consume entire worlds, the alien Drukhari, a sub-set of the Aeldari race (essentially elves in space) that have created entire cultures and mythologies around the most exquisite sadism and atrocity.
 
The Warhammer 40,000 (or 40K, as it's more popularly known) universe is arguably even more ripe for the exploration of horror than The Age of Sigmar, being not only a setting pervaded by it but founded upon it: there is no hope in this universe, only desperation, madness and violence.
 
Recent examples of the fiction published by Games Workshop's own publishing house, The Black Library, have explored these factors in surprising detail, especially the much-lauded Horus Heresy series, which explores what is arguably the key event upon which the universe is founded and boasts influences as diverse as Phillip K. Dick, H.P. Lovecraft, William Blake and Clive Barker.
 
However, it wasn't until very recently that the publishing house announced something of a grand experiment: a more “adult” toned sub-set of its publications aimed specifically at exploring the darker, more horror-based elements of the gaming universes:
 
Beginning with a trial run of three titles (Maledictions, The Wicked and the Damned and Perdition's Flame), the sub-set promises to engage fans who prefer the darker, more grizzly and conspicuous aspects of the settings, as well as opening up the fiction to potential new audiences.
 
The series already has some interesting names attached both as authors and readers of the material: no less than Doug Bradley himself, that many of you may recognise as the original “Pinhead” Cenobite from Clive Barker's Hellraiser, has already been announced as one of the audio-drama readers for the series, along with many more to come.
 
For my part, as a lifelong fan of both horror and Games Workshop, this is potentially a nightmare come true:
 
I have always, always been massively attracted to and inspired the setting's potential for far darker stories, tales of encroaching insanity, spiritual corruption, degradation of the flesh, the form, the mind. It has always been there, often skirted over in favour of more “comic book” style, action or combat-oriented stories, but always there, seething beneath the surface.
 
My sincere hope is that this allows some cross-pollination between demographics that I consider myself part of: that the new works and their sub-culture will draw in fans and audiences from horror circles just as it will allow fans of GW's more fantasy-based fiction to expand into new contexts.
 
The Black Library itself has been slowly edging towards this level of expansion for some years now, testing the elasticity of its central mythologies and determining how much fans are willing to accept in terms of deviation from tradition.
 
Now it has the potential to explore some decidedly dark and deviant avenues, as it has to some degree in the past (who can forget the toe-curling, incipient insanity of the Liber Chaotica books?).
 
My sincere hope is that they go for jugular: I want to see gothic horror involving vampires and zombies and the vile experiments of necromancers. I want to see surreal flights of Lovecraftian metaphysics as mortals make contact with the gods and daemons beyond. I want to see folk-loric horror as farming and woodland villages are raided by the very twisted beasts they tell their children tales of to keep them from straying into the woods. I want to see every stripe of dystopian despair, the horror of being ripped from one's life, ritually tormented, surgically altered, to lose oneself to the proscribed purposes of an uncaring, totalitarian civilisation. I want to see Cronenbergian body horror as alien cells activate within the bodies of unsuspecting, down-trodden civilians, as they twist and blossom and erupt into new and unlikely forms. I want to appreciate the exquisite sadisms within the bowels of the Drukhari city of Comorragh, where every waking or dreaming moment is one of the most obscene excruciation.
 
The potential here cannot be overstated. If GW play this right, they could draw in fans from far and wide, expanding the appeal of the hobbies they preside over exponentially. If, indeed, this new direction is designed to explore more adult-oriented factors of the gaming mythologies, there's no telling just how deep or distressing they could get.
 
I, for one, sincerely look forward to finding out.
 
For more info, check out the Warhammer Community page!
 

 
I've thought a lot about curses lately.
 
You know, spells that you cast upon a person to condemn their fate to a life of darkness and despair. That kind of curse.
 
Of course, we find out about such wicked witchcraft from the tales of old. We hear the story of Beauty and the Beast and the curse that can turn a prince into a monster. We come to learn about Maleficent, the evil fairy in Sleeping Beauty, who curses an infant princess by proclaiming:
 
“Before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel… and DIE!”
 
As we grow older, these fairytales are supplemented by stories that are even more horrific. Think of classic horror flicks such as The Ring where we learn that exposure to certain video tape footage can inflict death within seven days. We remember the teenagers in A Nightmare on Elm Street that are cursed with an evil spirit who kills his victims in their sleep. And you might even recall the movie Thinner in which a man is cursed with such rapid weight-loss that emaciation brings him to death’s door.
 
Like I said—evil curses have been on my mind.
 
For the past two years, I’ve spent a fair share of my spare time writing and directing a fantasy web series called Tracy Buckles. It’s an episodic show about a young heroine named Tracy who is struck by a despicable curse that prevents other people from hearing her voice. The curse is cast by a Level 9 Superior Black Mage named Janie, who also happens to be one of Tracy's old high school friends.
 
During production, we set out to create a scene that would give the viewer a sense of the terrifying power conjured by the Black Mage. In order to achieve this, we looked back at the history of cinematic curse scenes to gather inspiration. During that search, I identified one filmmaker who stands head and shoulders above the rest when it comes to this particular sub genre. A filmmaker whose oeuvre has been defined by cursed protagonists, both male and female.
 
I’m talking about the man, the legend—the one and only—director Sam Raimi.
 
His big breakthrough came with the 1981 horror classic The Evil Dead. Despite the budgetary restrictions imposed on the project, Raimi wielded his filmmaking craft with awe-inspiring creativity. What I find so inspirational about his early work is that many of the special effects rely on techniques that have been used in movies since the 1920s. Raimi is an expert at utilizing lighting and smoke and make-up and other fundamental tools that any filmmaker, big or small, will have access to.
 
As we devised our curse scene in Tracy Buckles, my team studied the superb filmmaking techniques of Sam Raimi. We used make-up and contact lenses to give the Black Mage a creepy appearance. We backlit her body with a red light source representing the dark, demonic powers that overtake her. We layered her voice with an ominous, lower-pitched rumble, as if infernal forces speak through her vocal cords. Then we added plenty of smoke and wind in order to fill the environment with mysterious textures. And throughout it all, the work of Mr. Raimi was our main source of inspiration.
 
In the end, the production team of Tracy Buckles owes a great debt to Sam Raimi and other storytellers who poured their creativity into the creation of cinematic curse scenes.
 
May they continue to scare the living daylights out of many more generations to come.

 
In this series, I will be reading every Brian Keene book that has been published (and is still available in print) in order of original publication, and then producing an essay on it. With the exception of Girl On The Glider, these essays will be based upon a first read of the books concerned. The article will assume you’ve read the book, and you should expect MASSIVE spoilers.
 
I hope you enjoy my voyage of discovery.

So my journey brings me to my first collection of Keene’s short fiction. As the title clearly signposts, this book contains short stories (over 30 of them, in point of fact) set in the same universe as The Rising series of novels. Each story really is short, clocking in at 1,000 words a pop, so this one is a lethally quick read, containing a dizzying array of characters and situations; most new to the reader, but the odd familiar face from the series does crop up, as well. The other interesting thing about the collection is that the stories start during the events of The Rising (including Danny’s phone call that kicks off the novel's narrative, told here from Danny’s side), but move past that, taking in the second and third waves of the mythos apocalypse. So somewhere around the two thirds mark, we’re treated to the grizzly image of all insect life becoming homicidal, and even, in the final story, the coming of the Teraphim, who finally consume the planet with fire.
 
The origins of the collection are also interesting. These tales were originally presented in a limited edition hardback, and for an additional fee, people buying the book could also buy into the book - that is, have a character based on them feature in one of the stories. Looking at the afterword, Keene clearly spent some time in researching this once the people were known, taking with them and finding out the kinds of things they were interested in (looking forward, he did a similar collection for the Earthworm Gods universe, with many of the same people paying to be in both).
 
As noted above, this means the book has an incredible range of people and places included, taking in parts of Europe and Australia, as well as many states within the US. The short running length of each tale also adds to the sense of both pace and scale, with the punchy (nad, frequently, bloody) vignettes zipping by at speed, courtesy of Keene’s incredibly readable prose. While there are, inevitably, some tales that I wished had gotten a bit more space to breathe, I admire the structural commitment, and overall, I think it helps the collection more than it hurts. There’s some fine individual tales here, but it really is the sheer volume of perspectives and settings that give it power; there’s a feeling of being witness to a truly global event, via this kaleidoscope of narratives.
 
It also demonstrates the sheer scale of Keene’s imagination. In the last essay, I spoke about the section of Ghoul where we’re given a tour of the graveyard, taking in the final moments of a series of citizens of the small town the story is set in; here, with a broader sweep, we see the same trick. Despite the shared backdrop, despite the shared running length, despite, in many cases, a shared fate, broadly speaking (let’s face it, things are, for the most part, not going to end well), Keene makes each story different, sparkling with character, with situation. In one tale, a zombie captured by a survivor who begins to tell him about a novel he’s read - the survivor dies, and the Squizzm is annoyed, electing to wait until the man is possessed by one of his kin, in order that he can learn the ned of the tale. Elsewhere, a tinned narrative tells of a man’s ill fated attempt to secure medicine for his sick wife, against the backdrop of Melbourne, Australia's descent into mayhem. We also revisit Troll, one of my favourite characters from The Rising, and get some illuminating back story on how he came to be.
 
It’s the characters that really make this collection, for me; this parade of vividly portrayed, almost exclusively doomed humans, each facing impossible choices, heartbreaking loss, traumatizing violence and obscenity. Sure, Keene also takes the opportunity to remind us - again - that human monsters are often the scariest, with many of the more stomach churning moments in the collection coming at the hands of non-zombies. Still, overall, this is a story that focuses on the ordinary person, in all their diverse and random glory, applies unbearable pressure, and chronicles what happens.
 
I’ll be honest, I’d come in fully expecting something enjoyable but ultimately throwaway, a curio for completests only. Having read it, though, I have to say I think this is an essential instalment in The Rising canon of work, both for the way it enriches the world the story is set in, populating it with over 30 new characters, stories, and perspectives, and also for how, in the closing tales, the second and third waves are portrayed. Even for end of the world stories, there’s a cruelty to Keene’s vision of the end (or, at least, this version of his vision of the end - Earthworm Gods, White Fire, and next story Take The Long Way Home suggest the ways in which the world might end are something of an obsession), with survivors facing ever tougher odds, and ultimately, no possibility of making it out alive. The final story really hit home, with the fires feeling like an all-too-close-to-home metaphor for the existential crisis of global warming that we currently face. But that emotional resonance is there throughout the collection; while there are some moments of levity and shlock, Keene’s emotional intelligence is as strong as ever, and many of these tales are, as you might expect, emotionally harrowing.
 
I found this book to be unexpectedly brilliant, and damned impressive, in both form and content.
 
Next up: Take The Long Way Home.
 
KP
17/2/19
 

I remember a few years a horror author that I really admired, and still do by the way, claiming that there really wasn't a horror community, it was just a lot of small connected people looking out for each other, rather than some massive worldwide network of support and admiration.  

It is a statement that I disagreed with then and it is one I still powerfully disagree with today.  We are community we are family, especially within the Horror Book Blogging community.  

Book Bloggers are,  in the vast majority of cases, a powerful and supportive group.  We all go through a lot of crap, we all share similar stories, experiences of running book blogging sites, and we all share a passion for reading and for promoting the genre we love.  We do it for love, we all know there is no money to be made from running a review blog, hel most of us sink more money into running the site than most of you can imagine.  We put in long hours, in between family life work commitments and that mythical concept of a full night's sleep. 

It's these shared passions and experiences that bring us together, we may not all agree on what makes for a good book, we may think one book is terrible, while everyone else thinks it's the best thing since sliced bread, but we do respect our differences of opinions. We message each other all the time, for advice, to vent our frustrations or to offer support, when yet another author decides to attack one of our family.  We are one and we are legion, with that in mind I think it is about time to give a shout out to some of the blogs and bloggers who work nonstop to promote the horror genre, and just remember that together we can promote the fuck out this genre.

Here is a list of some bloggers who I think you should all follow and read, and more importantly share their work, commnet on their posts, tell others about their sites, everyone authors, fans, casual readers, and the bloggers all benefit when you click that retweet button or that blog share button on their site.  If you are an author it's a great way to get up your chances of getting that elusive review, with TBR piles, deadlines and, limited time, being an active supporter of a site might just get you that bump up the pile.  

This list isn't comprehensive, there will be some sites I have unknowingly missed, so please don't feel snubbed, if you would like to be part of this shout out, then please feel free to leave your details in the comment section at the end of this article.  In no particular order here is some of the great guys 'n girls of the blogging world. 

 Inkheist.com
Twitter handles are
@InkHeist, @shanedkeene, @horrorbookshelf 
Facebook 
https://www.facebook.com/InkHeist/) facebook.com/InkHeist/. Cheers, brother!

Twitter
@reads_dark
Website
Dark Reads 

Twitter 
twitter.com/Night_Worms
Instagram 
https://www.instagram.com/night_worms/) instagram.com/night_worms/
Facebook 
NightWormsBook…
Website 
https://nightworms.com/

Twitter
@YvonneRDav
Website
Terror Tree 

Twitter
@HorrorDNA
Website
Horror DNA 

Website
scifiandscary.com
Twitter and Insta are both
@scifiandscary

Twitter
​twitter.com/SadieHartmann 
Instagram
www.instagram.com/mother.horror/) instagram.com/mother.horror/ 
​Blogger

http://sadiehartmann.blogspot.com/2018/08/50-great-horror-books-that-ive-read-by.html) sadiehartmann.blogspot.com/2018/08/50-gre… 
Goodreads 
https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/28225370-sadie-hartmann-mother-horror) goodreads.com/user/show/2822…

Website 
 Horrortree.com,  
Twitter
https://twitter.com/horrortree,
Instagram 
https://instagram.com/horrortree) twitter.com/horrortree
You Tube 
(link: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCYRKxJIt7rRxIb2x4OVhq-g) youtube.com/channel/UCYRK
Pinterest
 (link: https://pinterest.com/horrortree) pinterest.com/horrortree,
Tumblr 
(link: http://thehorrortree.tumblr.com/) thehorrortree.tumblr.com

Twitter 
@Toni_The_Reader
Website
Ladies of Horror Fiction 
Horror After Dark

Website
Bark at the Ghouls
horrorafterdark.com
​ ladiesofhorrorfiction.com
Twitter 
@barksBooks

Twitter
@gowsy33
Instagram
https://www.instagram.com/gowsy33/?hl=en

Twitter
@FrankMErrington
Website
​Frank Michaels Errington's Horrible Book Reviews

Twitter
@Charrlygirl
Website 
Char's Horror Corner

Twitter
WifeyCampbell
Website
Housewife of Horror 

Twitter
TBM ~ Horror Experts
Website
The Bold Mom 

Twitter
@LOHFiction
​Website
The LAdies of Horror Fiction 

Twitter
@audraudraudra
Instagram 
ouija.doodle.reads

Twitter
@BookHappy08
​Instagram 
book.happy

Twitter
@Lady_Gagnon
Podcast
Books In The Freezer Podcast
YouTube 
That's What She Read

Twitter
@bookmovieguy
YouTube
Cameron Chaney

Twitter
@KamisKorner
YouTube
Kami's Korner

And there it is folks, if you want to be added to this list drop me your details either to jimmcleod@gingernutsofhorror.com or pop them in the comment section below.  

Peter Caffrey is a writer creating neo-absurdist stories. Poking at the underbelly of life, he combines dark humour, bizarre imagery and twisted plots to reflect the absurdities in life.

His work has appeared in, or will shortly appear in, Danse Macabre, Weird Mask, Infernal Ink, Schlock!, Literally Stories, Fleshmouth, Twisted Tongue, Sun and Moon, Marbella Times and other publications.

He drinks too much, exercises too little and is unlikely to change.

His novel, The Devil’s Hairball, is now available for pre-order. Taking the reader on a journey into the darkness of a man’s soul when beset by curses brought on by an act of sacrilege, it pokes an irreverent finger into the eye of normality. To celebrate the release of The Devil's Hairball we have an exclusive extract from the book to whet your appetite... 

​At dawn, Victor dragged his bicycle to the road, mounted and set off. The fields stretched out all around. Nothing was familiar. The rising sun at his back confirmed he was cycling west, but it wasn’t the same road.
 
On he cycled, the lack of familiarity a growing concern. His only option was to follow the road to wherever it led.
 
The day grew hotter as the sun burned down from a cloudless sky. The treeless road had no end and offered no shade, a slithering snake of dust and stones writhing through a panorama of parched and browning fields. His mouth was dry; so dry his tongue felt like sandpaper, scraping away at the skin on his palette.
 
With every mile the heat intensified, and as dehydration kicked in, his stomach cramped, tying itself in knots. He pedalled on, but there was no end to the road. It stretched to the horizon. There was not a single feature on the barren landscape; not a tree or bush, not a hill or dip.
 
Victor stopped and looked back the way he had come. There was nothing to see. Peering ahead through the heat haze, there was nothing to see.
 
Drained of energy, the journey became an increasing struggle. The sun had reached its zenith some time ago but now hung stationary in the sky, its full strength beating down. Something was amiss and unless he could fathom it out, he would fall and maybe die on this road, dried out by the sun and crumbling into dirt like the swirls of dust kicked up by his bicycle tyres. How many lost souls did the dust represent?
 
Victor forced himself onwards, his face contorted with pain, eyes blurring and burning as sweat ran into them, mouth hanging open gasping for air. He looked up, convinced he was about to fall due to exhaustion, and in the distance was a black speck, a solitary item on the horizon.
 
New belief surged through him. Tapping into a last reserve of energy, he drove himself towards the speck. Laughing as he pedalled, it grew as he closed in. On he pushed, his heart smashing itself against his rib cage, ready to explode. His lungs burned as he sucked in great mouthfuls of the hot dusty air. His leg muscles spasmed as he drove himself towards the growing speck.
 
It was a signpost. Victor giggled. It would tell him how to get out of here, how to get off this damned never-ending road. It was close. He laughed aloud and used the last drop of energy his body could produce before he tumbled off the bicycle, spent. His weary body rolled in the dust, ending up beneath the signpost.
 
He looked up. The sign read, ‘No Waiting’.
 
Victor wept, but no tears came from his dehydrated body. He tried to wail but did not have the strength to push out any sound. Instead he let the searing pain pulse throughout his being, and he embraced it. The mental anguish hit him like a sledgehammer. He was slipping over the edge, into the darkness...
 
A bluish light filled the space, accompanied by a smell reminiscent of juniper. Lifting his head was a struggle, his headache intensifying with every attempt. As he tried to rise, a woman's voice, calm and reassuring, told him to rest. He lowered his head back to the pillow and closed his eyes.
 
When he opened them again, the blue-tinged light was laced with fingers of smoke. It was not acrid, but sweet and relaxing. In the corner was an old woman in a wooden rocking chair, smoking a long clay pipe. She smiled, putting Victor at ease.
 
‘I am Victor Holycross and I—’
 
The woman quietened him and said, ‘I know who you are and where you are going, what you need and what you want.’
 
‘How do you know about me?’
 
‘I have the sight.’
 
Confused, Victor asked, ‘What do you mean?’
 
‘I have the sight, the sixth sense; I am a seer.’
 
‘Do you mean you have the third eye? I thought such a thing was a myth, a lie told by charlatans, a claim made by conjurers and tricksters.’
 
‘The third eye is a truth.’
 
Victor tapped the centre of his forehead with his trembling hand.
 
‘It's here, isn't it? The third eye, the all-seeing; that's what they say.’
 
The woman shook her head and gathered up her skirt. Between her thighs, hidden deep in a matting of pubic hair, was an eye, bloodshot and angry, blinking, studying him with the meticulous attention to detail of a predator.

For more information on Peter please follow the links below 
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