Through Doll’s Eyes: Intervention Part II by Jesse Orr

Posted in horror, News with tags , , , on July 1, 2016 by Horror Addicts Editor


Through Doll’s Eyes: Intervention Part II by Jesse Orr

Ever since Mommy had stopped moving, Sofia had been living outside with Janie. It was great fun. Sometimes she missed Junie and her mommy, but Janie said not to worry. Her daddy was with Janie’s sister while mommy was in the forever sleep.

When Janie told her about the forever sleep, Sofia had been scared. What if she, Sofia, went to sleep one night and it was the forever sleep? Janie said not to worry, that Sofia was safe from the forever sleep as long as she did exactly as Janie told her.

Sometimes Sofia wondered about Daddy, but she didn’t ask anymore. The first time she had, Janie had said Daddy was fine, with Junie. The second time she asked, Janie got mad, and said that she hoped Daddy hadn’t fallen into a forever sleep. She asked Sofia if she should go and see. The look in Janie’s eyes made Sofia shake her head, and that night, Janie had punished her for asking. She had not asked about Daddy since. Besides, she had such fun with Janie that she hardly thought of Mommy or Daddy anymore.

She and Janie were having tea in the garden as was their custom, when Janie told her that very soon, some men would come.

“What men?” Sofia asked, setting down her cup of tea. She didn’t like tea much, but Janie told her she did when they played tea party. “What do they want?”

Janie said they were going to take Sofia and her daddy away so they couldn’t play with Janie and her sister Junie anymore.

“Why?” Sofia was horrified. Lose Janie? Her closest friend in the world? They couldn’t!

The men wouldn’t understand that they were friends, Janie explained. The men would insist that Janie and Junie weren’t worth bothering with, and they would take Sofia and her daddy away.

“No!” Sofia said, beginning to cry. “They can’t do that, can they? Can’t you stop them?”

Janie told her not to worry, there was nothing to fear. Daddy would be taken somewhere else, but as long as Sofia did exactly as Janie told her, the two of them would not have to part. Sofia skipped over what would happen to her father, fixating like a dog with a bone on the most important facts. If Sofia listened to Janie, they wouldn’t take her away.

Sofia promised to listen. “When is this going to happen?” she asked, her voice still shaky.

Janie said it would be very soon.

Eduardo the paramedic was already on edge. The scene in the house had been weird to begin with, without the stench and the oppressive mugginess. Eduardo ducked outside to the marginally fresher air and stood gulping in breaths. The stench of rotting meat surrounded the house, baking in the heat. He looked around the garden, seeking diversion.

A little girl with brown hair sat in a plastic chair with her back to him, apparently engaged in a tea party with a plastic doll set. Eduardo started. “Hey, there’s a little girl back here!” he shouted to the people inside the house. “Hey! Little girl! Are you ok?”

Eduardo jumped down from the porch and walked toward her, glad to get away from the stink of the house. Mentally he ran through his opening line. Hi honey, my name is Eduardo and I’m with the paramedics, how are you today?

His little speech arranged, Eduardo reached the tea party. “Hi honey, my name is E–”

His name died in his mouth as he took in the scene. The little girl sat at the green plastic table, knees tucked under its faded surface. Her hands were on the table, palms flat, as she stared at a doll seated across from her. She was nodding as though it spoke to her. Her hair was not brown, as he had thought, but a blonde so dirty it appeared to be a brown wig. In her matted hair were branches and leaves from a bed she had dug herself under a bush. Looking at the girl’s hands, Eduardo’s stomach swooped as he saw she had only nine fingers, her left smallest finger gone above the first knuckle. The wound was gray with dirt and infection. A puffy scratch above her eyebrow had swollen her left eye half shut, giving her eyelid a droop.

Hiding a sob, Eduardo sank to a knee, his speech forgotten. “Oh my god, what happened to your finger?”

The girl looked at him without a hint of emotion. “Janie took it.”

The paramedic heard others crossing the garden and felt sweet relief flooding into him. Relief that he was no longer alone with this horror. “Who’s Janie?”

Raising her four-fingered hand, the girl pointed at the doll sitting across from her.

Eduardo looked at the doll, and his stomach swooped again. The fucking thing was creepy. “Well that wasn’t very nice of her, now was it?” He glanced over his shoulder. Swanson and another paramedic were approaching. “Honey, we’re going to take you with us, somewhere safe. How about that?”

Her eyes shot to his. “And Janie?”

Taken aback, Eduardo nodded. “Of course, you can bring your doll.” He plucked Janie from her seat and deposited her in Sofia’s lap. He missed the look of peace which came over Sofia’s face as she wrapped her arms around the doll. She smiled as he stood up and turned to the two men. “Little girl’s lost a finger, she’ll need to roll.” The medic knelt down beside her.

“She’d have to roll to a foster home anyways,” said Swanson, glancing down at Sofia’s hand. “Father’s off his rocker, can’t leave her with him.” He shook his head. “Fucking sad.”

Eduardo nodded, his face grim. “I think we got here just in time.” He gestured at the house. “What are we doing with him?”

“They’ll take him to the mental hospital up at Stonebriar,” Swanson said. “Once they patch up his missing finger, they’ll–”

“Wait a minute,” Eduardo said, turning to look at the detective. “His missing finger?”

Swanson nodded. “Left pinky, lopped clean off. Says the doll took it.”

Ghastly Games: Zombicide

Posted in News with tags , , , on June 30, 2016 by Emerian Rich

On episode #129, hear our resident Ghastly Gamer, Chantal Noordeloos talk about Zombicide.


zombZombicide is a collaborative game for 1 to 6 players, for 13 years old and up. A game lasts for 20 minutes (beginner board) to 3 hours (expert board). Each player controls from one (for 6 players) to four (solo game) “survivors”, human beings in a zombie-infested town. In fact, “survivors” hastily change to “hunters” to smash zombies through and through. However, the team must constantly keep the balance between survival and slaughter: as the zombicide’s going on, the “Danger level” is going up and infected are growing in numbers. Any misstep can turn to disaster.
Zombicide is a fun and easy game with cool minis in an archetypical, popular and comics-inspired environment. zombicideAmbiance is constantly kept between “beat’em up” and “survival horror” as characters keep on turning from preys to predators. Humor and gloom happily marry in a zombie-fest. Find weapons, kill zombies. The more zombies you kill, the more skilled you get, the more skilled you get, the more zombies appear. The only way out is Zombicide! Play 10 scenarios on different maps made from the included modular map tiles, or create your own.

Find out more about Zombicide on Episode #129, coming July 9th.


My Melancholy Life: Amuse Bouche ~ 2 Lolita Fashion Bites

Posted in News with tags , , , , , on June 29, 2016 by Mimielle

An amuse-bouche [aˌmyzˈbuʃ] (plural amuse-bouches) is a single, bite-sized hors d’œuvre. Amuse-bouches are different from appetizers in that they are not ordered from a menu by patrons, but are served gratis and according to the chef’s selection alone. These, often accompanied by a complementing wine, are served both to prepare the guest for the meal and to offer a glimpse into the chef’s approach to the art of cuisine.

The ‘definition’ has escaped and has been expanded to refer to everything from a little bit of morning sex (see Urban Dictionary) to a lipstick line from Bite Beauty. Basically  a small amount of something that is not enough to satisfy but intended to tease your interest before the main event. I’m going to use it to introduce (but not wax rhapsodic) about some diverse subjects from my hobbies and personal experiences here in my column so I hope you will enjoy it! I am always happy to provide further information so please feel free to ask for further details in a letter to The staff always loves to hear from podcast listeners and all our readers out there.


As always, controversy and ‘ruffle kerfluffle’ has erupted in the Lolita Community over the generalizing in the shortened version of this video posted  very recently by Refinery 29 on Facebook but for me, aside from a few points, this sums it up quite well in general terms for people who are not already involved in the fashions. Devotees love to debate the finer points such as “There is a definite section of males who wear Lolita as well”, “It is inspired by the Rococo period of history just as much if not more than by the Victorian period”  and also “It is not a costume” are a few comments I have seen as I glanced through.

This look, through a male eye, tells a somewhat similar but different story:

My fiance liked the second video and said it was pretty accurate. He wears formal modern clothing to accompany me to Lolita events, meets and teas locally in our private group of friends, at conventions and mostly to meet up with the Kansas City Lolita community, which we are both a happy part of . He was admiring the ensemble the host chose so it is fun to show another view of the fashion too. It’s also nice to clearly show that men have several options and most communities are welcoming if you choose to attend events and seek advice on what to wear (and how to behave) beforehand.

So there are two little tastes of Lolita Fashion for you. What is YOUR first impression when seeing Lolita Fashion? I’d love to hear your thoughts and descriptions, so please leave me a comment if you want to have a little chat! I’ll brew up a pot of tea and set the table…

Mimielle sig, orange

Guest Blog : 9 Fears that Loom in The Shining

Posted in News with tags , , , on June 28, 2016 by Horror Addicts Editor


9 Fears that Loom in The Shining

By Theresa Braun

I finally read Stephen King’s The Shining. Why have I waited so long to read a book that came out in 1977? I blame Stanley Kubrick. The movie was so masterfully done and was so scary that I remember not being able to watch it when I was home alone. Suddenly, all the mirrors in the house seemed like they’d show me some horror I’d rather not face. I worried blood might start flooding the hallways, or I might hear an axe coming through the front door.

Then, someone told me to get on Netflix and rent the documentary Room 237, which analyzes some hidden gems in Kubrick’s film. It was then I realized I wasn’t the only one obsessed with the movie. Stumbling through some online resources, I discovered that Manny MassGrave Serrano wrote an incredible article about Kubrick’s masterpiece. ( But, I digress—back to King’s version.

Stupidly, I was afraid that the novel wouldn’t live up to what I experienced in the motion picture. However, I’m so thrilled when I finished King’s original work. So much more is present in the complete telling of the story, as is always the case. But many of you have probably read the book, so I don’t want to rehash the spooky plot details. What I do want to discuss is what it is that makes this book so terrifying. What fears does King tap into? After all, he’s known as the master of horror for a reason.


Significant Fears The Shining Reveals to Readers:


Nature & Isolation: As humans, we have an innate awareness that nature is a bitch and should be feared. Throughout the novel, we are reminded the elements have the upper hand as the wind is whipping and howling at the windows. Combine that fact with the terror of isolation. There’s a reason that solitary confinement is a punishment in prison. We need other people around us to remain sane. Even though the Torrance family has each other, that becomes less and less comforting. King plants that in our minds from the beginning, as Wendy thinks about the Donner Party and what shocking things isolation drives people to do. So when Jack destroys the CB radio and throws the part of the snowmobile’s engine into the snow, we freak out because he is intentionally keeping them captive at the hands of the hotel. That isolation in the midst of not knowing exactly what they are up against is freaking bone chilling.


The Supernatural: We assume the hotel is merely haunted by ghosts of the past. The idea that there are entities that can appear out of nowhere, talk to us and touch us from beyond the grave—that is enough to give someone a heart attack. However, there is something more menacing plaguing the entire grounds. Inside, inanimate objects move on their own, like the fire extinguisher hose. And things materialize out of nowhere, as in the party favors in the elevator, or the martinis Jack pounds back at the bar. Outside, the hedge animals come alive and there is something dark looming at the playground. Obviously, this supernatural phenomenon is more than a regular haunting. That evil force is so powerful that it gets into the heads of all the characters. Something that invades the very essence of ourselves is truly horrifying. The fact that the hotel can do this cranks up the fear factor. And, it also has the power to influence the characters’ actions, particularly Jack’s. This evil is referred to as the manager, which has this vague and powerful sound to it—but who or what is the manager? Is it a demon, the devil himself, or some primitive spirit that has been part of the land since the beginning of time? We aren’t exactly sure. King leaves it that way to make us wonder what diabolical entity is in charge of the Overlook. The not knowing is extremely unsettling


Murder/Violence: Probably the most obvious sign of evil in our midst is the killing or harming of human beings. And, that threat is present throughout the novel. The Overlook’s past is steeped in blood baths, the most notable is the mob slaughter in the Presidential Suite, but we know there has also been the last caretaker who murdered his family and then himself. Jack also embodies this. We see it in the very beginning when we find out he has broken Danny’s arm in a drunken rage, and later when he attacks a student. Sober or not, Jack has violent tendencies. So, it’s not that hard to see him making that final shift to the dark side because he is familiar with it. The hotel takes him one step further, urging him to kill his own family. That frightens us as readers since none of us want to become acquainted with such heinous behavior.


Others/The Ones We Love: We should never fear the ones we love or who love us. That is exactly what Wendy and Danny struggle with regarding Jack. When Jack’s tender and romantic with Wendy and when he’s sensitive and is bonding with Danny, we pray the good in Jack is stronger than the dark. Unfortunately, Jack represents the fact that we need to be afraid of those we love the most. We can’t control how they think, feel, or act. That feeling of helplessness is a very scary thing—especially when it’s at the hands of someone who is supposed to care for us the most.


Ourselves/Our Minds: Jack represents the deterioration of self-control, something that haunts us all. Will we do the right thing, or will we give into temptation? Not only that, but Jack’s journey is also about our perceptions. What are our real thoughts? What are we really seeing or experiencing? What is a dream and what is real? We see that Jack wants to be triumphant over himself. He struggles with wanting a drink for most of the novel—and he resists. He never breaks down and consumes the cooking sherry. It isn’t until he is seduced by the hotel’s liquor that he succumbs. Jack also continues to wrestle with what he sees and doesn’t see, which we notice in his denials to his family. For example, he refuses to tell them about the lawn animals or what he experiences in room 217. He denies it because he doesn’t want to believe, or maybe because he’s afraid he’s losing his mind. Either way is mortifying. None of us wants to lose our grip on ourselves or our reality.


Psychic Ability: As cool as it sounds to be able to see things no one else can, having the shining is apparently a horror in itself. When Danny starts to see all of the nightmarish visions regarding the Overlook, we are immediately afraid for him and his family. Overall, these sightings are more disturbing than they are helpful. We feel better for Danny when Hallorann is able to talk to him about his gift. Thankfully, it’s their psychic connection that saves Danny and Wendy in the end. However, Danny has to go through hell in the meantime, knowing what his father is going to do. But, most shocking of all, it’s Danny’s powers of sight that the Overlook wants. If only the hotel can keep Danny forever, it might just be able to absorb his talent and use it. In the end, it’s the shining that puts a target on Danny’s back. So, when we consider wishing for psychic powers, we quickly retract that wish—better to be in the dark.


The Past: There is a constant feeling in the novel that the collective past can haunt us. We see this when Jack finds the scrapbook in the basement with the clues to the history of the hotel. Even though Jack agrees to keep the hotel’s demons private, those demons are still in his midst while the family stays there. Not only that, but history is a constant menace, as Jack echoes the horrible crimes that Grady committed against his family while caring for the hotel. Furthermore, our personal pasts can destroy us as our minds regurgitate it over and over again. It’s always alive. This manifests in Jack. He’s riddled with his guilt over his past mistakes, mainly hurting his son and losing his teaching job. Wendy and Danny can’t forget either. The hotel knows that we can go certifiably nuts when we can’t move on from the past, so it constantly reminds Jack of his. The Overlook’s macabre mission: trap everyone forever in its past.


Being a Failure: This is probably one of the more subtle and realistic fears in the entire novel since we’ve all had it. That’s what makes it so monumental. Jack represents the fear of failure since he’s had several of them leading up to his caretaking of the Overlook. It’s his need to succeed that motivates Jack to stay. He needs to be redeemed by proving to himself and to Al that he is a reformed alcoholic who is fit to teach again. He also needs to prove to Wendy that he can be a husband and provider. If he allows the hotel to get the better of him, he has failed. He reminds us of this as the novel progresses. One of the reasons he goes into perilous situations, such as room 217, is because he says it’s his job. His future depends on the completion of that job. We cringe as his possible redemption slips through his fingers. As he fails, we are reminded of our failures.


Death: Impending death is all over this story. Jack is disturbed that he and Al may have killed a bicyclist one drunken night—so much so that he and Al quit cold turkey. The hotel itself is packed with dead people, a reminder that the Torrance family could perish at any moment. Hallorann also confronts his mortality. However, it’s the loss of Jack’s life that hits us really hard. He bashes his brains in with the mallet because he knows he’s already dead to his family and must sacrifice himself to the hotel. It’s grotesquely heroic. When he’s gone, we miss him as much as Danny does. Probably the most interesting scene is when the Overlook’s existence is put in jeopardy. The hotel uses Jack’s battered and deformed body to save itself, hoping to prevent the final explosion. But the supernatural forces are no match for the real-life machinery that dictates its imminent destruction. Death itself has the final word as Jack and the hotel go up in flames. Ultimately, none of us can escape our final end—and that is truly frightening.

One thing I’m glad King was not afraid of is a happy ending. Now, there is a tragedy at the end of the novel; however, there is clearly hope for Hallorann, Wendy, and Danny to go on with their lives. Next book on my list: the sequel to The ShiningDoctor Sleep, published in 2013.


Theresa Braun

Theresa Braun was born in St. Paul, Minnesota and has carried some of that hardiness with her to South Florida where she currently resides. She enjoys delving into creative writing, painting, photography and even bouts of ghost hunting. Perhaps growing up in a haunted house in Winona, Minnesota is to blame. Traveling as often as possible is one of her passions—in fact, her latest adventure took her to Romania for a horror writers’ workshop where she followed in the steps of Vlad the Impaler. She writes horror fiction and her latest short story “Shout at the Devil” appears in Under the Bed Magazine.

Twitter :@tbraun_author

Press Release : Gutted

Posted in horror, News with tags , , , , , on June 27, 2016 by Horror Addicts Editor

Press Release: Gutted

Crystal Lake’s first pro-paying anthology, featuring Neil Gaiman, Clive Barker, and Ramsey Campbell, take readers on  a disturbing journey into the beauty that rests inside the very heart of darkness.

From Bram Stoker Award-nominated publisher, Crystal Lake Publishing, and the editing duo who brought you the best-selling and critically acclaimed small-town Lovecraftian horror anthology Shadows Over Main Street, comes Gutted: Beautiful Horror Stories—a disturbing journey into the beauty that rests inside the very heart of darkness.

Awe meets ache.

 Terror becomes transcendence.

 Regret gives way to rebirth.

Fifteen short stories and one poem span nearly every twisted corner of the horror and dark fiction genres:

A woman experiences an emotional reckoning inside a haunted house.

A father sees his daughter rescued after a cold case is solved, only to learn the tragic limits of his love.

A man awakens a vengeful spirit and learns the terrible price of settling scores.

A boy comes of age into awareness of a secret universe of Lovecraftian scale.

A young woman confronts the deathly price of existence inside a German concentration camp during the Holocaust.


And much, much more…

Gutted: Beautiful Horror Stories features the most celebrated voices in dark fiction, as well as a number of exciting new talents:

Clive Barker, Neil Gaiman, Ramsey Campbell, Paul Tremblay, John F.D. Taff, Lisa Mannetti, Damien Angelica Walters, Josh Malerman, Christopher Coake, Mercedes M. Yardley, Brian Kirk, Stephanie M. Wytovich, Amanda Gowin, Richard Thomas, Maria Alexander and Kevin Lucia.

With a foreword from Cemetery Dance magazine founder Richard Chizmar.

Cover art by Caitlin Hackett

Interior artwork by Luke Spooner

Edited by Doug Murano and D. Alexander Ward


Gutted: Beautiful Horror Stories

An anthology of dark fiction that explores the beauty at the very heart of darkness

Stephanie M. Wytovich — “The Morning After Was Filled with Bone”

Brian Kirk — “Picking Splinters from a Sex Slave”

Lisa Mannetti — “Arbeit Macht Frei”

Neil Gaiman“The Problem of Susan”

Christopher Coake“Dominion”

Mercedes M. Yardley — “Water Thy Bones”

Paul Tremblay“A Haunted House is a Wheel Upon Which Some Are Broken”

Damien Angelica Walters“On the Other Side of the Door, Everything Changes”

Richard Thomas“Repent”

Clive Barker — “Coming to Grief”

John F.D. Taff“Cards for His Spokes, Coins for His Fare”

Amanda Gowin — “Cellar’s Dog”

Kevin Lucia“When We All Meet at the Ofrenda”

Maria Alexander“Hey, Little Sister”

Josh Malerman“The One You Live With”

Ramsey Campbell — “The Place of Revelation”


“It’s a book for readers who love language as much as story, who understand that horror can be beautiful, ecstatic and revelatory as well as down-right scary.”James Everington

“All of the stories in this anthology have a beauty, whether it is in language or tone or in finessing a hard-hitting theme to disarm the reader. It’s worth picking up this collection.”Eden Royce


Find out more on : Pinterest Goodreads Facebook

Guest Blog: Finger’s Breadth Book Excerpt

Posted in News with tags , , , on June 26, 2016 by Horror Addicts Editor


 Finger’s Breadth Book Excerpt

by M. Christian

Looking from the window of the coffee shop. Watching from the windshield of a parked car. Staring from the glass of a very rare unbroken bus kiosk. Glaring from the side of a passing bus.

A brief summer rain had painted the city that night in reflections. Fanning saw himself everywhere, and everywhere he saw himself his expression said the same thing—Why haven’t you caught him yet?

In his ear, a Bluetooth bud whispered the Officer Wertz inquiry’s soundtrack; in his pocket, the video was playing on his phone. He didn’t need to hear or see it. No one would, but if asked he could probably rattle off every verb, every noun, every linguistic bit from when Knorr started it to when he stopped it. Knorr was good at what he did, just like the lab mice who studied crime scenes and picked up tiny bits of DNA with their finely honed tweezers.

Welcome to the decentralized world of the new San Francisco Police Department, where your specialty was all you did and generality was extinct.

Fanning was a freelancer but was supposed to be good at what he did, too. Sneering at himself reflected in the coffee shop window, he gripped the phone in his pocket. If he’d been stronger, or the plastic less durable, it would have cracked.

Fingers-Breadth_wbannerGlowering for an instant at his reflection in the windshield of the parked car, he pulled the phone out and flipped through a few key digital pages. As with the inquiry, he didn’t need to look at it again, but he did anyway. Better than sharing the street with his scowling mirror images.

It hadn’t changed—Wertz’s home address and where he worked were still the same. The first was across town, in the Mission. The second was just down the street, at a Gap Store.

Ten a.m. to six p.m. His shift hadn’t changed, either. But it was 6:17, and there was no sign of Wertz.

Fanning paced the wet sidewalk, searching up and down the street but mostly the blue-and-white bright- ness of the Gap store. In his ears, Wertz’s voice clicked into silence; then, as it was set on “loop,” it began again.

Just like the others. Same MO, same kind of pick-up place, same amount of Eurodin in Wertz’s system, the lab mice doing their usual fine and precise work, and the same mutilation—right hand little finger amputated at the first joint.

Again, his phone threatened to break in his hand, but again, he wasn’t strong or determined enough to do it. The beat cops who’d found Wertz sound asleep on the J Church train; the lab mice who’d analyzed the drug in his system; Knorr, who’d asked his carefully prepared and expert questions…

But then there was Fanning, who was supposed to assemble piece after piece after piece after piece until they made a picture of someone’s face.

Cutter’s face.

Looking up from where he’d been looking down, he saw a silhouette come between the blue-and-white of the Gap store. A dark shape that was about the right height, about the right build, about the right age, to be whom he was looking for. Fanning carefully released his tight grip on his phone and stepped back into a nearby alley, one carefully chosen for its heavy solitude.

Heavy solitude was just what Fanning wanted.


His age had ticked over to forty half a decade ago, bringing with it eye surgery, regular arthritis treatments and a pre-diabetic monitoring pump sewn into his belly. He didn’t run as fast as he used to, didn’t snap back like he used to, didn’t hit as hard as he used to, but he still could get the job done. The shape that had been about the right height, about the right build, about the right age, became less about and more exact as Wertz passed. The night was cold as well as wet, so Fanning felt more coat than skin when he grabbed Wertz and spun him off his feet into an echoing crash down deep in the inky canyon of the alley.

Wertz, again according to his file, had ticked over to twenty, also half a decade ago, so he had perfect eyes, good joints, and a strong heart. Maybe, if he went to the gym, even some muscles. Fanning got to the back of the alley as fast as he could without running. Wertz was pulling himself out of some deep-blue biodegradable trash bags, the logo of the city Green Commission warped by his body landing hard on them.

Wertz began to say something. When Fanning’s fist landed fast and meaty in the young man’s gut, the air he’d prepared for speaking rushed out in a gagging spasm.

“Talk when you’re fucking talked to,” Fanning said, down-deep, carefully prepared vocal thunder. Knorr was good, but Fanning knew how to talk, too. “You fucking lied, didn’t you?”

Wertz was in darkness, but there was just enough light spilling from the businesses and streetlights to give his young face ghostly definition. The shape of his eyes, nose, lips revealed to Fanning that the guy was twisted up with confusion and, best of all, fear.

“You lied,” Fanning said, even lower, even closer to Wertz, giving him no time to think.

Wertz said something, the exact words lost to sudden traffic sounds leaking from the street. Even though Fanning couldn’t tell what he said, he knew enough—a voice to that confusion and, still best of all, fear.

“Shut the fuck up,” Fanning said, punctuation added with another punch to the man’s gut. Again his breath left in a retching rush of air, now tinged with the sharp reek of pre-vomit.

“I said you were lying.” Now was the time to ask the question, to put that confusion and fear to good use. “Weren’t you, you fucking asshole?”

“W—what?” was all Wertz managed to get out.

“Your finger. Your finger! You know what the fuck I’m talking about.”

The young man who’d crashed in the garbage held his hand up—a reflex, ancient and common. But something about it was new, only in the last week or so—four and three-quarters fingers, not a solid five.

“Tell me the truth, asshole. Tell me the fucking truth.”

“I don’t know what…” Wertz’s eyes glistened in the sparse light. Young. Very young. Young enough so he didn’t need eye surgery, arthritis treatments, or a bit of medical hardware just to the right of his navel. Young enough to recover damned quickly. “I told … told them everything.”

“You’re. Lying.” Each word a vocal bullet, face-to- face, making youth face the harsh reality of determined age.

“No, no…”

“Don’t give me that shit.” Another punch, another effort to drive the point home. “What the fuck happened?”

“I told them…what happened. I did.”

“You let someone just cut part of your fucking finger off? Don’t give me that shit.”

“Drugged. I said…”

“I know you were fucking drugged. I know all about that shit. Tell me what you didn’t tell the cops.”

“I told them…Fuck you, I told them everything.”

Fanning grabbed Wertz. Forty-five years reminded him they were there with a quake down his spine. Teeth tightly clenched, he tried to keep a hissing gasp from slipping out. It took work, but he got Wertz up and out of the garbage in one movement. The next movement was yet another blow to Wertz’s stomach.

Closer than before. Even more intimate in his threat: “You’re. Fucking. Lying.”

“No,” Wertz said. “I didn’t. I didn’t.” He repeated it, over and over, fast and sharp, like a whisper sped up into a near squeal.

“Yes, you fucking did. You’re fucking hiding some thing.”

Then Fanning realized Wertz really was hiding something.


M.Christian is — among many things — an acknowledged master of erotica with more than 400 stories in such anthologies as Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bisexual Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica, and many, many other anthologies, magazines, and Web sites.

He is the editor of 25 anthologies including the Best S/M Erotica series, The Burning Pen, Guilty Pleasures, The Mammoth Book of Future Cops and The Mammoth Book of Tales of the Road (with Maxim Jakubowksi) and Confessions, Garden of Perverse, and Amazons (with Sage Vivant) as well as many others.

He is the author of the collections Dirty Words, Speaking Parts, The Bachelor Machine, Licks & Promises, Filthy, Love Without Gun Control, Rude Mechanicals, Coming Together Presents M.Christian, Pornotopia, and How To Write And Sell Erotica; and the novels Running Dry, The Very Bloody Marys, Me2, Brushes, and Painted Doll.  His Web site is Purchase his book here: 128, A. Craig Newman

Posted in News with tags , , , , , , on June 25, 2016 by Emerian Rich

HA tagHorror Addicts Episode# 128

Hosted by Guest: Dan and Michelle Shaurette

Intro Music by: Valentine Wolfe


a.craig newman | leper | the strain

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125 days till halloween

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Once Upon a Scream- special edition pack

“Broken Pieces” by Valentine Wolfe blog Kindle syndicated



Write in re: ideas, questions, opinions, horror cartoons, favorite movies, etc…


h o s t e s s

Emerian Rich

s t a f f

David Watson, Stacy Rich, Dan Shaurette, KBatz (Kristin Battestella), Mimielle, Killion Slade, D.J. Pitsiladis, Jesse Orr, A.D. Vick, Mimi Williams, Lisa Vasquez

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