Steve Stred kicks off 2022 with an outstandingly bloody creature feature
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Back in March 2019 I reviewed Steve Stred for the first time for another horror site, giving The Girl Who Hid in the Trees a 3/5 stars and further down the road I covered The One That Knows No Fear which made a stronger impression. Following that, and better still, I was blown away by The Window in the Ground which is both significantly meatier and more complex than those earlier works. Stred’s fiction is clearly on an upward trajectory but I have also enjoyed random dips into his back-catalogue with his Wagon Buddy novellas being other enjoyable reads. The Canadian is incredibly prolific and in 2021 he dived into science fiction with The Future in the Sky, but I found his first release of 2022 Mastodon to be significantly more entertaining and amongst his best work to date which deserves to find a decent audience amongst monster and creature feature horror fans.


Mastodon was a genuine out-and-out page-turner which barely draws breath for a moment and if you are after a quick, highly entertaining, not-too-deep read then this highly inventive novella ticks all the boxes. Hell, Mastodon was so much fun authors Hunter Shea or Jason Parent, who specialise in monster mayhem, would have been proud to call this bad boy their own. As a crazy over the top b-feature it was top drawer, which cleverly keeps a fair chunk of the plot nicely shrouded well into proceedings before it evolves into something significantly more sinister than a basic monster-in-the woods story. Once it begins to move through the gears the action is top heavy with some wild set pieces and bloody kills and when you get to the ‘fight or fuck’ sequence you will not be able to pull your eyes from the page!


Set in a remote part of the Rocky Mountains Mastodon has a terrific opening hook to quickly suck the reader in which connects a story from seventeen years earlier to the events of the present-day action. Seventeen years previously, Tyler Barton was born in an area called Ogre Peak, whilst his parents were on a hike, immediately after the birth his mother disappeared and was never seen again. Rescue attempts were restricted as this area of the mountains and forest was not open to the public and there were all sorts of rumours of what dodgy Area 51 style business the government might be up to.  The wild location was a terrific plus-point to the plot and it adds much atmosphere to proceedings, with Stred explaining in his informative end notes that it was loosely based on a real location and areas of Canada he was familiar with whilst growing up.


Over the passing years Tyler and his dad Neil bonded over hiking but have never forgotten his mother and meet up for tough climbs in areas which are hard to access. Early in the story Neil is being flown in the same area as Ogre Peak to meet Tyler’s grandfather and the plane crashes with Tyler being told that he must presume his father is dead and is offered quick money as compensation. Suspecting a rat, he begins to investigate Ogre Peak, which is heavily protected by armed soldiers, fences and cameras. However, Neil has taught his son well who uses his outdoor skills to hunt for his father whom he believes is still alive somewhere in the forest, possibly being held captive against his will and if this is the case, could it be his mother is also alive somewhere also?   


To say any more of the plot would head into spoiler territory but expect a very wild and crazy ride top-heavy with fantastic imagery. Once the big reveals are dropped some of the plot will undoubtedly remind you of other fiction, but don’t let that put you off Stred brings plenty of his own panache to the table and squeezes his characters through both a physical and emotional meatgrinder and at various points I even hoped he might give them a break (fat chance). Overall Mastodon has terrific pacing with the reader on tenterhooks for what Tyler will eventually discover in the forest and although the reader might guess, Stred is never short of ideas which mix things up and keep the reader both nicely unbalanced and keep for the next reveal.


Although Tyler carries the book well and is very mature for a seventeen-year-old kid (almost, but not quite a bad-ass) the action is beefed up by the occasional flashback and plot jumps to his father which also give teasers for where events might head. As things progress the use of technology was terrific and the introduction of the young policeman who had his own personal rescue mission gave Tyler someone to turn to for support and the reader another dude to root for. Stred specialises in fast moving action and even if the characters are sketchily presented you will still be drawn to Tyler. His battle for both rescue and survival in one of the most dangerous places in the world takes this highly compelling adventure yarn which was built around a well-conceived mystery which is far from being a typical creature feature to the next level.


Mastodon deserves to pick Steve Stred plenty of new readers and if you are after b-movie style adventure horror then you will hoover this novella up in a couple of evenings. Yes, it is dumb and incredibly far-fetched, but it was very easy to piggyback upon Tyler’s brave shoulders as he battled on his brave journey into the nightmare unknown which was Ogre Peak. Highly recommended.


Tony Jones

"An old-school creature thriller told with crisp pacing and kick-ass set pieces, Steve Stred's Mastodon is a monster-in-the-woods tale with some choice surprises and plenty of rampaging fun."
- Andrew Pyper, author of The Residence, The Damned and The Demonologist


17 years ago, Tyler Barton was born in the Rocky Mountains, while his parents were on a hike.


On that day, his mother disappeared, never to be seen again.

Now, history repeats itself.

On the 17th anniversary of her disappearance, Tyler’s father is flying home when the plane he’s on disappears – in the same area where his mother was last seen.
Undeterred by officials, Tyler decides to hike into the area in search of his father, hoping to find him alive and bring him back to safety.
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But there’s a reason that area is prohibited to enter and even though Tyler doesn’t care, he’ll soon find out that the wilderness can hide some of the deepest, darkest fears known to man.


From the author of ‘Incarnate,’ ‘The Window In the Ground’ and ‘Ritual’ comes a new novel that’ll make you rethink your Summer hiking trip.

V. Castro's writing has the power to go for your throat, your heart, and your brains. She pits memorable characters against evils both supernatural and man-made, giving a voice to those who deserve to be heard, as well as having monsters whisper in your ear, with sex and death sometimes dancing dangerously close to one another. This collection of 14 short stories offers all of the above in abundance, and it's an absolutely fantastic read.


Each story pulls you in close to situations which are uncomfortable and horrifying mostly because they reflect real life. People are mistreated in the same ways the characters in the book are, through racism, ignorance and so on. The horror angle here offers empowerment to the downtrodden instead of terrorising them, which is a refreshing change. Whether it's the unfortunate dead rising up to take back the world, or monsters living among humans using their powers to overthrow, overwhelm or overtly kill various oppressors, you're never left rooting for the bad guy. Much like Castro's 2021 novel, Queen of the Cicadas, there are plenty of satisfying scenes where shitheads get their just desserts, which is something I'll never tire of reading about.


It's not all vengeance and violence though – well, there's actually a lot of vengeance, but it's not all delivered in bloody or brutal ways. Sometimes it's more subtle, but in no way less gratifying to read: like in Mal De Ojo, where curses and unkindness lead to an ending sure to leave you grinning, or The Most Wonderful Time of the Year, where Christmas is threatened by a conniving demon. Many a tale shows you Chicana history colliding with modern day experiences; urban legends and eye-opening facts bursting from the page thanks to the evocative, passionate and intelligent descriptive language. And even though a lot of the stories are similar in terms of theme or lessons learned, there's enough variety to keep you coming back for more.


Serving as both a perfect introduction to Castro's style, and a delectable smorgasbord of treats for existing fans, Mestiza Blood is another great release from Flame Tree Press as well as a triumphant first collection of stories from this brilliant author. Thoroughly recommended.

​From the lauded author of The Queen of the Cicadas (which picked up starred reviews from PW, Kirkus and Booklist who called her "a dynamic and innovative voice") comes a short story collection of nightmares, dreams, desire and visions focused on the Chicana experience. V.Castro weaves urban legend, folklore, life experience and heartache in this personal journey beginning in south Texas: a bar where a devil dances the night away; a street fight in a neighborhood that may not have been a fight after all; a vengeful chola at the beginning of the apocalypse; mind swapping in the not so far future; satan who falls and finds herself in a brothel in Amsterdam; the keys to Mictlan given to a woman after she dies during a pandemic. The collection finishes with two longer tales: The Final Porn Star is a twist on the final girl trope and slasher, with a creature from Mexican folklore; and Truck Stop is an erotic horror romance with two hearts: a video store and a truck stop.
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FLAME TREE PRESS is the imprint of long-standing Independent Flame Tree Publishing, dedicated to full-length original fiction in the horror and suspense, science fiction & fantasy, and crime / mystery / thriller categories. The list brings together fantastic new authors and the more established; the award winners, and exciting, original voices. Learn more about Flame Tree Press at www.flametreepress.com and connect on social media @FlameTreePress

CERTAINLY, A COLLECTION OF ESSAYS by Ramsey Campbell edited by S. T. Joshi
PUBLICATION DATE  June 2021
COVER ART IIan Sheady
INTRODUCTION S. T. Joshi
PAGES 609
ISBN  978-1-786367-17-4
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If you are after an incredibly deep dive into the extensive non-fiction writings of Ramsey Campbell then Certainly: A Collection of Essays is a treasure trove of literary observations, nuggets and articles which cover an impressively wide range of horror topics dating from 2002-2017, skilfully edited by ST Joshi. This work is a continuation of Probably which was originally published in 2002 and later updated, featuring similar work from the earlier decades of Campbell’s long career.  Certainly, is aimed at Campbell completists and those who have a serious interest in horror fiction, its origins, development and this author’s unique position as both leading light and genre expert. This book will go over the heads of casual horror fiction readers, but fans with an inquisitive nose will find much to ponder and young horror writers, even if they do not recognise many of the authors referenced, should make the most of spending time sitting at the feet of the master and heed the tips and recommendations he freely provides.

Considering this massive book weighs in at a huge 592-pages, is non-fiction and leading towards academic I was disappointed it did not feature an index. I found this frustrating, making it tricky to dip in and out of what was a substantial read and considering so many other authors are name checked it would have been a useful aid in looking them up. For example, the book is dedicated to Adam Nevill, but you will have to scour the pages very carefully to find a couple of brief passing references to him. Collections of essays do not have to be read in sequence and an index would have made this a considerably more user-friendly experience.

Although I enjoyed this book considerably I have a second major gripe regarding its presentation which was as frustrating as the lack of index. If you wish to find out where an essay was published (and you most definitely will) readers have to flick to the back acknowledgements for the necessary detail. The main text gives absolutely no immediate context and although some pieces were obvious, many were not, and these key facts should have been displayed at the start of each article to help the reader contextualise what they were reading. Considering many of the articles were only a few pages long this would definitely have helped with the flow of the book, adding in the date of original publication would have been equally useful. Ultimately, casual readers in particular will find it trickier to pick up the flow without going backwards and forwards to the acknowledgements.

These oversights were odd, especially considering the book was otherwise very well organised into six clearly defined chunky sections (1) ‘On General Subjects’, (2)’On HP Lovecraft’, (3) ‘On Classic Weird Fiction’, (4) ‘On Some Contemporaries’, (5) ‘Horror in the Media’ and (6) ‘On Ramsey Campbell’. Depending on what you are interested in all six sections are top loaded with fascinating articles, the Lovecraft section came across as the most familiar, as Campbell frequently talks about him and has contributed a great deal over the years in ensuring this controversial author is not forgotten or overlooked. In fact, if you do not know much about Lovecraft this collection of six essays (about 45 pages) is an excellent beginners-guide pitstop as it takes in his early days, influences and his giant shadow he casts over today’s horror, both literary and cinematic.

Section three ‘On Classic Weird Fiction’ is a straight continuation of its predecessor expanding from Lovecraft into many of Campbell’s other personal favourite authors and if you read his many published interviews elsewhere on the web you will not be surprised in finding out who crops up here. Some included are Arthur Machen, Willian Hope, Algernon Blackwood, Clark Ashton Smith, Mike Barrett, Fritz Lieber, John Franklin Bardin, Ray Bradbury, Thomas Tryon, Thomas Hinde, Richard Matheson, Margaret St Clair and Nigel Neale. This section will be an education for many readers, myself included, as I had never read a number of these authors.

Section four ‘On Some Contemporaries’ was another fascinating read (by ‘contemporary’ I presume Campbell means living) which features David Case, Gary Fry, Thana Niveau, Joe Hill, Joe Lansdale, Steve Jones, John Smith, John Pelan, Mark Samuel, Glen Hirshberg and others. Many of these are book, collection or magazine introductions Campbell has kindly written for these authors down the years. My favourite was the piece The Man Who Put the Best in Bestwick, with Simon Bestwick being an outstanding author who deserves to be much more widely read than he probably is. Check out his recent novella A Different Kind of Light for 100% proof of his quality. Certainly, concludes around 2017 and the authors mentioned above are as contemporary as this book gets and I was left wondering (maybe the question was never asked?) on Campbell’s opinions on the ‘next [younger] generation’ of horror authors. Overall, the book is much more focussed on Campbell’s influences, rather than those Ramsey has influenced himself with the author looking backwards rather than into the future of horror.

Section five, ‘Horror in the Media’ was another treat and covers considerably more modern ground. Once again, regular favourites MR James and Robert Aickman make an appearance, but I was much more attracted to the more contemporary subjects, particularly film censorship which are covered in My Nasty Years and None of That, We’re British and to a certain extent Black Sunday. I am old enough to remember banned videos and shops renting cassettes ‘under the counter’ and was thus fascinated by Campbell’s take on this 1980s storm in a teacup which has been revisited by the excellent new British horror film Censor. There was also a humorous piece on Umberto Lenzi, infamous for directing banned cannibal film Cannibal Ferox, with similar gory material being discussed in the Zombie 3 piece. Another favourite was Musically Macabre where Campbell connects horror and music, most are classical references which are not my area of expertise, but there are numerous contemporary mentions also, including David Lynch’s Lost Highway, Argento’s Tenebrae and the cult indie band The Violent Femmes whom I love with a passion. Even German industrial behemoths Rammstein get a mention. If there had been an index I would have jumped straight to this page as Ramsey is a tad older than most of this band’s fans!

The final section ‘On Ramsey Campbell’ is probably the most personal where the Liverpudlian takes us back to his childhood in the city, his parents are featured via family letters and the importance of Weird Tales in his formative years is soaked in nostalgia. Moving slightly forward, a couple of articles cover the Minutes from the Liverpool Science Fiction Society, which was a period of his life Campbell remembered with great fondness, as his relationship with Arkham House Publishers who released his early experiments in Lovecraft inspired fiction. The importance of books in his life are emphasised and I loved A Day in the Life of Ramsey Campbell in which we are leisurely led through an average day in his life. Film Into Book was a particularly enjoyable piece as Campbell discusses the rare occasions when he wrote ‘fiction to order’ and experimented with a pseudonym which the popularity of horror had waned. Certainly, finishes in style with the wonderful Honoured by Horror, a thoughtful piece which notes that more than sixty years have passed since he sent his first Lovecraft inspired stories to August Derleth and name checks some of the younger authors mentioned in the book such as Adam Nevill or Gary McMahon (can we call authors well into their fifties ‘young whippersnappers’? Perhaps not.)

In the correct pair of hands Certainly is a joy to read and Lovecraft expert ST Joshi does a fine job as editor in bringing these works together. It is one of those books fans could dip into repeatedly and uncover yet more morsels to chew over, did you know Campbell writes the first drafts of his novels by hand but his non-fiction pieces straight into the computer? No, never did I.
Tony Jones

I admit, that when I opened the package from the publisher and found my rich green almost classical style edition of The Night of Turns. I wondered if I’d made a mistake requesting it. It just did not look like a horror novel to me. However, I’d requested it, so onto the list it went and in no time at all, it reached the top of my list.
     

That’s when, from the first page onwards, I realised what a beautiful, exceptional and original story was encased within the deceptively ordinary cover. The story in some ways reminded me of the film Midsommar, in other ways The Road. Yes it is that bizarre, it is not a story that is easy to describe or to explain why or how it pulls you in. I don’t know if the folklore is historic or totally fictional, hell I’m not even sure who really wrote the thing although I can probably google it. Maybe I will, or maybe I want to accept that the narrative is really the edited and deciphered coded documented experiences from a woman who travelled over the border from what I think is our world and into another. Yes maybe I do.


The Night of Turns is written in Edita’s (might not be a real name) first persons narrative from soon after she’s crossed the border and is taken in by the Caravan of the Burnt Woman, one of many caravan communities that roam the other side of the boarder. As Edita travels with the caravan and talks to the other occupants, she discovers the strange beliefs and practices of life over the boarders and the monsters that lurk beside them as they travel a path that corresponds to a board game called ‘Game of the Goose.’ I won’t say anymore except that there are a number of bright and brutal rituals, some of which change with every enactment and which are the dark focuses of the caravan communities. Beliefs are unfamiliar as are the social structures and rules the vastly different communities live by. Paranoia and suspicion run through the narrative but in a way you wouldn’t expect it to. The violence when depicted, is shocking and brutal, not always expected and sometimes laced with flowers. The monsters are ‘cruel without malice’ and the need to worship is the greatest weakness of all.
    
This book is a slow burn, creeping horror that creates vibrant mental pictures. Some of which have remained, branded into my memory. It is one of the best books I’ve read, as well as being one of the best books I’ve read for Gingernuts. Give it a try.

Let’s face it. Eugene Johnson has the Midas touch. I can’t think of a project where he was at the helm that didn’t blow me away in terms of both content and writing style, and his latest release, Attack from the 80s, is no exception. Featuring speculative stories interspaced with black and white drawings of iconography from the Decade of Excess and introduced by a foreword from Mick Garris (Critters 2, The Fly II, Amazing Stories), Attack is a funhouse ride, not just for those who long for the days of jelly bracelets, boombox pop, and Aqua Net-glazed hairstyles, but for horror fans who like their dark fiction colored in originality as bright as Wham!’s Day-Glo ensembles. All of the contributors are established authors, but their offerings are anything but routine.

In “The Devil in the Details,” Ben Monroe’s protagonist Tom is a recent college graduate, a California transplant from back East attending a Halloween party in the Hollywood Hills. After an encounter with a mysterious Svengali at the soiree, Tom wakes up two days later with no memory of the time in between and a fateful invitation on his answering machine. “He started thinking about something he’d read in the newspaper a few days ago, about some dogs the cops had found eviscerated in the 6th Street viaducts. The reporters called everything satanic lately.” Monroe’s writing is meticulous in its period details, down to the wealth of era-specific song titles worked neatly into the background of an age when cult ritual panic dotted police blotters more frequently than spilled coffee stains. Bonus points for the author’s insertion of a “No Masks!” mandate taped to the entrance of a bodega as a bit of contemporary irony.

Nicole’s wedding in three weeks promises to be typical ‘80s fare, complete with a poofy wedding dress, teal party frocks, and an embarrassment of big hairdos. In Lee Murray’s “Permanent Damage,” as the bridesmaids gather at the salon to prepare for their friend’s big day, what was intended as an ode to Whitney Houston’s 1987 curly bouffant transforms into a nightmare of Gorgonian proportions. Murray’s delightful bizarro-monster mashup serves bridezilla allegory with a generous helping of tongue-in-cheek dialogue, climaxing in a scene involving Phil Collins’ “Sussudio” that can’t help but remind the reader of Patrick Bateman donning a plastic raincoat in preparation for his axe attack in American Psycho. Also on the body horror ticket is Rena Mason’s “The White Room”: “if someone had told her she’d meet and marry the man of her dreams while attending Columbia and then spend her weekends torturing and humiliating him in the basement of their house…she wouldn’t have believed it.” And yet, Caroline and her Big Pharma CEO husband are living that dream, complete with a full body restraint, ball gag, and occasional stabbings of kitchen utensils into Richard’s extremities. This lifestyle goes beyond boudoir BDSM, however: Richard insists it’s a routine he requires to appease “the corporate monster that drove his success,” and one Monday afternoon, Caroline will understand just what he means by that.

Like the anthology’s editor, Tim Waggoner is a sure thing when betting on standouts, even among an arsenal of veteran horror scribes. In “Slashbacks,” Dwayne isn’t “some impulsive, erratic teenager who acted without thinking. He was the kind of man who paid his bills on time, made sure to put a little money in savings every pay period, filed his taxes early, saw his physician regularly, ate right, and exercised (a little, anyway).” When he makes the impulsive decision to stop into a new video store that specializes in horror and picks up a few tapes to peruse, he discovers that the cover art contains images that are disturbingly familiar. Waggoner’s plot shimmies between adult Dwayne and his younger self, and the painful adolescent memories are some that will be recognizable (if not frighteningly reminiscent) for many readers, especially if their own infatuation with horror has been met with pleas from parents and partners to “just do something normal for a change, ok?” If the main floor contains familiar terrors, though, what might be lurking in the back room?

My personal favorite in the collection is Stephanie M. Wytovich’s “Mother Knows Best.” In it, Eden’s mum had been dating her teacher for three years, but when a violent incident ends the relationship, Mr. Myers returns to Eden’s home to discuss it. Although all of Attack’s stories are dark in their own ways, “Mother” is a particular unsettling entry. “He took a sip of his drink, his moustache wet, shining under the soft overhead light. He wore a white button-down shirt and a pair of salmon chinos, no socks. A professional-but-relaxed-look for a man who was anything but professional and should definitely not be relaxed.” Wytovich’s slow-burn development creeps stealthily under the skin until the discomfort erupts into a full-blown anxiety attack. Readers will not be able to put the story down until its deliciously horrific conclusion.

Attack from the ‘80s is an overall “bitchin’” collection of 1980s-saturated fare from one of the most skilled curators of horror today. The stories may be sprinkled with videotape icons to indicate scene breaks (a particularly jaunty touch), but the tales here are far from reproductions. Cheers to this lineup of writers who breathed new life into a well-trodden theme.

Nobody writes quite like Charlene Elsby does and her trademark philosophical musings, pitch-black humour and uber-violent protagonists are all on display with her latest novella.

‘Psychros’ follows an unnamed protagonist whose boyfriend has recently committed suicide. After attending his funeral, she begins to seek out increasingly violent sexual encounters as a means of dealing with her grief, sending her deeper down into a path into psychosis.

This was my second time reading Elsby’s fiction, the first being her debut novella, ‘Hexis’, and ‘Psychros’ is similar in a lot of regards, namely a murderous female protagonist, and a story told largely via the leads own (often seemingly unrelated) internal thought processes. ‘Psychros’ differentiates itself in a number of ways however, not least that this is by far the most accessible piece of the two.

It is also incredibly funny, particularly in the earlier chapters and while ‘Hexis’ didn’t shy away from the dark humour, it wasn’t as overtly comedic as ‘Psychros’ can be. Given the dark themes being tackled, it’s a tough balance to strike to include some humour without downplaying the more serious elements, but the uniquely disjointed inner monologue of the protagonist helps strike the right tone where you can laugh out loud at her musings on the ‘relative density of buttocks’ or uproariously passive-aggressive coffee shop orders, without losing sight of the fact that this is a woman experiencing intense grief and slowly descending into madness.

The lead character is a big reason why the book works so well, in that she is fairly unlikeable and completely unrelatable in her actions, but is a completely sympathetic character nonetheless because her struggle with grief is universal. As she spirals further and further out of control, you can’t help but wish her circumstances were different and that she can find some semblance of, if not happiness, then at least normality.

Elsby opts for a more ‘traditional’ narrative with ‘Psychros’, using a linear narrative and effective pacing to tell its story. While we don’t immediately get a full picture as to what’s going on, hints and clues are sprinkled throughout, gradually pulling back the curtain on her current circumstances. The pacing is perfect, keeping just enough back to hook you in while giving away just enough to keep you engrossed.

Elsby doesn’t seem as concerned with the ‘what’ of the story, however, as she is with the ‘why’ (although readers shouldn’t expect clear answers to be forthcoming in that regard). Her lead isn’t so much an unreliable narrator, as she is one prone to let her mind wander, but it’s in these stream of conscious ramblings that the real insight lies. While Elsby’s work is not necessarily the most accessible and easy to read, there are few authors capable of getting into the minds of their characters as effectively, using seemingly unrelated thoughts to convey feeling and emotion that the character is feeling, but not expressing, and the result is a book as challenging as it is rewarding.

Psychros may polarise readers with its strange, discursive style and utter nonconformity to a traditional narrative but there is a fascinating, tragic and very human story within that is utterly engrossing if the book catches you in the right headspace. This book may not be to everyone’s tastes but a genuinely unique and distinctive voice in horror is something to be applauded nonetheless.

​4 Stars

A woman's lover commits suicide. Why does everyone expect her to grieve? What if he wasn't one of the good ones? Was his suicide another cruelty? Her grief and rage are expressed through increasingly violent sexual encounters with strangers, acquaintances, and past lovers. How many deaths does he deserve?


And why did he love death more than her?

The third instalment in the In Darkness Delight series is addressing the subject of future which, needless to say when dealing with a horror anthology, appears to be grim and complicated, full of terrific and terrifying events.

The volume assembles twenty-two brand new stories developing with a variable degree of success the above mentioned subject.

It is customary to say that any anthology is a mixed bag. This seems to be especially true in the present case because the reader will be presented  both with some quite good stories and with  some examples of poorly conceived and/or poorly written short fiction.

Let me then  look only at the bright side and stick with those stories which appear to me as the best tales.

“ Airborne” by Lisa Morton is a disturbing piece where people lose their memories due to an unknown cause ( a mysterious virus?) while “ Husk” by Marshall J Moore is a fine example of distressing SF where selected human beings are transformed into vegetables to provide the necessary food.

As for “ Locusts” by Dominick Cancilla, the telltale title says it all...An enjoyable piece of “natural” horror.

Evans Light contributes the apocalyptic “ Seeking Harmony with the Infinite” about an announced end of the world caused by a catastrophic fall of massive materials from the space. But things are different from what they seem.

Eric J Guignard provides the disquieting “ If I Drive Before I Wake”, depicting the dangerous effects of cars driving by themselves against their owner’s desires.

The best story in the book is perhaps “ We Have Names Too” by Michelle  Muenzler, an excellent piece showing how technology will be able to substitute real persons with identical, artificial beings. That trick, however, might not always work.
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Many reasons why we should indeed  fear the future.