I came across the troll yesterday, quite by chance. I’d been clearing the loft, and there it was at the bottom of a tattered box containing miscellany from my youth, that impudent smile I hadn’t seen in many years. Finding it brought to mind a much larger troll, for want of a better word, an
Somewhere in the USA, Late September 2017 That losing the show wouldn’t be the worst thing, that there would be financial ruin, bullshit stories, public vilification, name-calling, getting spat at (because yes people do that), private conversations with jerks in dark moments telling him good on you for speaking up — that things would not
Cassandra heard Dean rough-housing with the dog upstairs—the barking and clomping were louder than the rumble of the dryer—and when she emerged from the basement with a loaded laundry basket and glanced through the front hall to the living room, her mouth dropped open. Her fiancé (clothed, thank God) was behind Koshi, their yellow lab,
Franny always said our pastries had the consistency of dried paper mache. At night we’d wrap the leftovers and leave them outside for the homeless. Not even raccoons would go near those things. One by one we had to let our staff go. We consulted a financial advisor, who said our best course of action
I’m a huge fan of westerns, they remind me of lazy Sunday afternoons with my father, we’d watch them all – the good, the bad and the ugly (pun intended). Some of my favourite were High Noon, True Grit, High Plains Drifter, Bad Day at Black Rock, Shane, The Searchers, Bone Tomahawk, Unforgiven, The Magnificent
So, I’m dead. I’ve read the obituaries, watched the funereal ceremony and pomp. Boo-fucking-hoo. They said nice things. I wasn’t nice. My legacy was tabloid trash, bin and bird cage liners. I amassed millions. I ran campaigns of fear and hatred, invaded the famous and the suffering, hacked phones, photographed private moments. Exploited secrets and
Maureen decided we’d redecorate the lounge. Our decor was no longer “chic”. I didn’t know what that meant but I argued it was quite chic indeed if it meant I didn’t have to tear up a perfectly good shag carpet. “It’s very ‘65, you know,” she said with disdain as if ’65 was universally agreed
Welcome to the debut collection from Donnie Goodman – strap yourselves in and prepare for the ride of your life! The Razorblades in my Head – well damn, what a way to kick off the collection and a brilliant introduction to Donnie’s work. This one has the weird horror vibes that I love, think Sarah
It was a beautiful baby blue that made the walls look like an icing covered birthday cake. Ella enjoyed making shapes with her brush, a beach scene with a starfish, then a palm tree on a desert island, before sweeping the scenes away with a big roller. With each stroke, she felt a little more
Janine Pipe bring us her debut collection of stories, a writer who I first came to discover in a few anthologies has now collated many of her previously published stories into on fun horror filled debut collection. Twisted: Tainted Tales is a fun read – pure escapism on every page. Jill our driving force of
