I wrote Seems Only Right for entry into the 12th  Chiaroscuro short story contest back in 2006, which was won by Gemma Files. Chiaroscuro, or Chizine, is a great online horror and weird fiction magazine sponsored by Leisure Books in the US. There were first, second and third placed stories, and Seems Only Right was given an Honourable Mention along with five others, out of a total of 307 entries, so I was pretty pleased. For a moment; until I realised it wouldn’t be seen by anyone, as only the first 3 stories were published. So near and yet so far!

The story sat on file as I considered what to do with it until I joined the BFS last year. I decided to enter the annual competition. Then silence. Then a congratulatory email from Andrew Hook of the BFS. I immediately went about finding an illustration to accompany the story, and artist Robert Elrod came up trumps for me. A big thanks again to him.

In May I attended the first couple of dates in London on the Horror Reanimated tour with Joseph D’Lacey and Bill Hussey. I read Seems Only Right in front of REAL people for the first time. I re-wrote the story for the readings, shortening it, leaving certain details out, whilst keeping the chronological chain of events, and making the decision to change the sex and name of the main character – as I am not a girl, seven years of age, or American…

Then it occured to me that I’d written the story taking liberties with the accurate grammatical way of doing things, and tried to develop a more phonetical representation of how the character would think – okay, I dropped the ends off some of the words. But this did mean I had real difficulty reading the story aloud, so they had to be reinserted for the readings.

Here’s a picture of us at The Big Green Bookshop in Wood Green, North London on May 6th. From right to left: Lee Casey (who designed the Horror Reanimated: Echoes chapbook we gave away); Joseph D’Lacey, me, and Bill Hussey.

The next evening we read in front of a whole bunch of people at Borders on Oxford Street in London. Nerve-wracking, but we think it went pretty well.

So now Seems Only Right will be in the third issue of New Horizons, out this month. I hope you can track down a copy and let me know what you think of it.

Here’s an excerpt from Seems Only Right:

We’re like mice hidin up here inside the walls. Louisa talks to me in whispers, like she don want her pop to hear us talkin together. Talkin in whispers is plain silly cause he can be inside her head if he wants to. I hear him walkin around downstairs, peein, walkin around again. Louisa’s House is always quiet and the walls we’re in are paper-thin and us mice can be heard if we talk too loudly. So I whisper to Louisa, even though it is silly. “Why don we talk outside?” Louisa looks at me like I’m stupid, which I am. I’m only seven so I must be. Only grown-ups aren’t stupid. That’s what they tell us in class. Louisa, who has a bit of green pokin from her nose and who is in my class, tells me what she knows. “It’s because they say so.” Louisa looks happy she’s got that straight with me and she whispers some more, “it’s because grown-ups do what they want and we do what they want.” And she’s right. I know the answer before I ask the question and I am trickin her. None of us talks outside our Houses. The bible class makes that rule. I decide not to tell her about the green on the end of her nose, which makes her look stupid in another way, but she must be able to feel it cause she picks it and eats it. To me, it seems only right that Louisa is as stupid as me: she is seven too. When I’m grown-up I’ll make lots of rules and do whatever I like, pee a lot. If I can I’ll look into the heads of my children to see if they’re happy. I want to ask Louisa if her pop can be in her head like my daddy and mommy. But I don. First I need to get my question right, cause mommy can see in my head, but daddy is inside my head, and sometimes he ain. If I’m ready I will ask Louisa next bible night. Or I won, cause then she will know my secret, and she will most likely tell on me. Louisa is the Teacher’s pet.

Mommy and Elizabeth say nothin to me or to Louisa’s pop. He stares at all of us until we have left him alone on his porch. Louisa is upstairs bein a mouse cause she don like Elizabeth’s hair. Mommy’s face is red. The road is dusty with no rain. There is William Reed standin by the side of the road. Mommy and Elizabeth don spot him. If they did they would stop and take him home. As we go by I look at William Reed and he looks away. He ain in my class so he ignores me, as he always does. His hair is yellow as the fields we go past. He don care about that dust in his face or on his baggy clothes. William Reed shouldn be outside and alone like he is. We don go out alone, not near the woods.

***

Red is a contemporary take on the classic fairy tale, Little Red Riding Hood. Far removed from the quaint childhood we imagine for the little girl in the original tale Rachael Daniels, an aspiring actress, lives in a grey urban environment, just about making a living as a careworker whilst enduring the frustrations she understands will come her way at the onset of her chosen career. Already a little jaded, she’s recently broken up with her boyfriend, and dreads walking the streets after dark as the city is a threatening place wit its hoodies and vast concrete estates, such as the Greenham Estate which is where her favourite client lives, the 80 year old Miss Tilly Brindle.Rachael’s right to be cautious there’s a serial killer stalking the streets of the city. Not your average stalk’n’slash weirdo, this character has a long, long history and a grudge to match. Kane subtly provides insights into his thinking, his geneaology, whilst evoking the years of killings as he sits and observes the hussle and bustle of the city, choosing his next victim:

Sitting on a bench, he surveyed the shoppers on this busy Friday afternoon. In the old country, he could have just picked one off as they walked by, but populations had dwindled where he used to operate so very long ago, mainly due to his antics – it had to be said. And trackers wishing to make a name for themselves had come looking for him back in those days. For their insolence (there was no greater hunter than him, he was the king), he’d sent them away with their tales between their legs – if indeed he’d left them with any tail at all. But all good things came to an end, and when he was forced to move on, he found it was actually a blessing in disguise. It was a big, wide world out there. And who was going to notice what he was up to when mankind took such a great joy in doing the very same thing to itself, time and time again? The perfect playground. The perfect hunting ground.

It’s during this scene that the beast notices Rachael as she walks past. Lost in the sea of shoppers, it uses its one instinct that still remains effective in today’s ambiently-deafening society: it smells her, and her blood reveals itself to have a particularly personal and shared history…

Kane cleverly uses the various characters and victims as visceral pathways and bridges for the beast. He plays with both the reader and Rachael, lulling us as it engineers its course towards her, circling her literally through the flesh and blood of those she encounters in her daily life. As it shapeshifts it takes on their personas as best it can, convincingly over short time spans (which is normally all the time it needs) it charms and confuses, until ultimately it is unable to hide its true nature as its century-spanning hunger and lust for revenge explodes from behind the thin facades it creates in scenes of bone-crunching ferocity.

As with the beast, so with the book: over 70 impactful pages, and without wasting a word, Paul Kane has enriched the werewolf mythos with a seamless re-imagining of a hypnotically suggestive fairy tale, embellishing it with the harsh, alluring scent of an ages-old psychosexual predator who easily rivals that other undead villain from Eastern European folklore, the vampire.

A relentless and grisly fairy tale for dark times, Red is filled with the blackest blood from the deepest parts of our bodies, and is thoroughly recommended.

Red is published by America’s Skullvines Press so might be a little difficult to obtain over here, but go directly to their website or get in touch with the author, and I guarantee your efforts will be rewarded.

When did you last stumble across something that was a complete surprise, something that you immediately knew, by instinct as much as through a quick once-over, was destined to be incredibly influential and almost perfect for you at a particular time of life? A something that you didn’t really know you needed until it showed itself to you?

Well, this happened to me in the Summer of 1988 as I came across the first issue of Fear magazine. Oliver Fry’s cover art was all I needed to find myself lost: a grinning skull with the dark side of the moon for an eye, a tongue of seemingly naked screaming people in a sausage-skin hell morphing into an old crone’s hand with faces where joints should be, and a pair of deep red lips, the hint of a tongue, growing from the palm. This was dark, and it was sexy. Inside I was presented with a combination of news, reviews and professional, horrific short fiction. At the time there was nothing else like it. This was ‘The World of Fantasy and Horror’ as compiled by John Gilbert, published by Newsfield Publications, ( a Ludlow-based publisher of games magazines),  initially on a bi-monthly basis, and it simply shouted out at me: I am yours. And it certainly knew what it was talking about – this was MY magazine.

I grew up in Devon and nobody I knew obsessed about the horror genre in all its forms like I did. Films, music and books weren’t as important to them as they were to me. A mate would nip over to watch a video of Mausoleum when my parents were out, but that was about it. So when Fear appeared, it felt like a little vindication: I was reading these authors already, and now other people cared enough to share their obsessions and interests, producing a magazine that’s become an important artifact from that time in my life.

And 21 years on, Fear is still MY magazine. I have every issue of Fear in pretty good condition. I have the three issues of the short-lived fiction offshoot, Frighteners. They take pride of place on my shelves. Cumulatively, Fear showcased a stunning amount of high quality genre fiction – and if anyone wants to publish a Fear and Frighteners anthology I’m sure there would be takers.

Over the last few months I’ve been searching the internet for mentions of the magazine, and apart from a couple of forum discussions on the wonderful Vault of Evil, two entries on Bear Alley, a few cover shots on Flickr, a table of contents listing over at Locus, and a Wickipedia entry for the publisher, plus a liquidator’s report, there’s nothing comprehensive to be found. Which suprises me, given the value I place upon it, and the contributors who made it what it is.

So, as we thirty and forty somethings wallow in a pleasant wave of nostalgia, mostly enabled by the internet, I thought I’d do the same, and run a little series on Fear and Frighteners, showcasing some of Oliver Fry’s awesome exterior and interior artwork (much of which was based on the short fiction featured in that particluar issue); John Gilbert’s ground-breaking editorial direction, a few scans of author shots and interviews from days gone by, and possibly tracing where these creators are today. I’ll detail the books, videos and films reviewed, quoting a pertinent sentence or two; and with hindsight we’ll be able to see if those opinions have been deemed accurate.

A particularly interesting aspect of these articles, (at least for me), is how we’ll be able to track how a ground-breaking magazine – its attitude, contents, emphasis, contributors, frequency and format evolved – during its 34 issue run across just over three years. (I’d actually sold an article on industrial music and horror to John Gilbert for issue 35, so maybe it’s my fault it folded at that point). Hopefully these posts will build up to give you a flavour of Fear, a magazine I am sure will still be of much interest to genre fans, young and old, well-read and new to the scene. And if you’ve never come across Fear, you could do worse than tracking down issues on Ebay or via specialist booksellers as copies are still relatively easy to come by, at prices below the cover price of £2.50…

Stanley Wiater, who interviewed Peter Straub for the first issue, now an award-winning author, consultant and creator of the Dark Dreamers television series (and available to watch on You Tube) was kind enough to say of his involvement with Fear: “…it was a wonderful, groundbreaking publication that tried to do it all – articles, overviews, interviews, short fiction, book reviews, film reviews, genre events – and more often than not, completely succeeded in its capacity of being a dark rainbow over it all. I was honored to be part of it.”

So what was in that seminal first issue?

In Dark Playground John Gilbert introduced the magazine and some of its many contributors, who were to come and go across the years – names some of you will recognise, I’m sure: Kim Newman, Stan Nicholls, Stanley Wiater, Philip Nutman, Di and Mike Wathen (both were part of the British Fantasy Society’s governing body at the time), amongst others. (Geeks will note that the above image is from the second issue, but it’s a better picture of John Gilbert).

Other articles were collected under the Phenomena heading, (rather than the regular set of fiction, interviews and the like), and include John Gilbert’s article on making movies – Tales of the Busy Auteur, David Keep asks the BBFC about their approach to censorship – Censorship or Classification?; and in The Unblinking Eye, Mike Wathen outlines fear and horror’s function within that emotion:

…”I don’t want to know – but I have to. I don’t want to look, but I must.” The reader comes to the horror story with an awareness that the rules which govern our societies and our standards of behaviour are not all that strong, and can crack and come unglued under the slightest stress. It is the task of the writer of horror fiction to try and widen those cracks, to break down the wall and provide at least a glimpse of that which lies behind and beyond. The reader brings the desire to see beyond the wall, not glancing away, however much he or she may want to. To gaze with unblinking eyes at what is revealed…

Fear Fiction: Fear’s amazing collection of short stories kicked off with:

• The Prize, by Shaun Hutson – ‘a morbid newspaper-chain-tail’
• Eye of Childhood, by Ramsey Campbell – ‘children can be cruel’
• The Dandelion Woman, by Nicholas Royle – ‘the tick-tock clock’ (Oliver Fry’s accompanying illustration above)

Interviews and features were in the  Pro-Files and Location Reports sections:

• John Carpenter talks about my favourite of his films, The Prince of Darkness and the upcoming They Live: “I’ve made a bunch of Westerns, I just don’t put Cowboy hats on ‘em. Instead of cowboys, you have physicists.”
  
• The ‘founders’ of splatterpunk John Skipp and Craig Spector talk about their novel The Scream as it was about to be published in the UK via Bantam: “Splatterpunk is an angle of attack, a way of life, and just a phase we’re going through.”
• Film director Neil Jordan discusses his new movie High Spirits and other work such as The Company of Wolves in the first of a two parter: “I think every novelist wants to direct films…”
• Peter Straub is interviewed about Koko (Oliver Fry’s accompanying illustration above): “I’m trying to explore what surrounds horror – what kind of feeling is fear really about? How does it work in normal life?”
• Ramsey Campbell examined his writing influences in the run-up to his newie, Ancient Images – even back then he was being referred to as ‘the greatest living influence in horror fiction’: “-the principle I tend to use is you show enough to suggest more.”
• Stephen Gallagher reveals how he researches locations for his novels (Article image below): “Making everything possible can drain a lot of interest and intricacy out of a story.”

Fan-File featured details of British-based fanzines and societies including notes on the ‘fast-growing British Fantasy Society’, and the Science Fiction Foundation, as well as descriptions of the latest issues of Dagon edited by Carl T. Ford, the awesome Samhain edited by John Gullidge, and Six of One (a fanzine centred around The Prisoner television series).

Genre reviews were within the Revenants section, with a place for all media…

Film reviews were in the Movie Mainline section:

• Beetle Juice, directed by Tim Burton …I cannot stress too strongly how much of a mistake it would be to miss this movie.
  
• The Unholy, directed by Camilo Howard …starts off with a punchy, stylish opening but soon loses its focus…is proud to wear its horror colours on its chest, and is unashamedly gross in parts.
  
• The Monster Squad, directed by Fred Dekker …Dekker…has the Universal gruesome chewsome off pat…will appeal to anyone who’s ever watched a black and white monster B-movie…
• The Hidden, directed by Jack Shoulder …simply the most enjoyable crowd pleaser since Robocop…a near perfect mix of amped up action and pulp science fiction silliness.
• Bad Dreams, directed by Andrew Flemming …a horror movie that wants to be something else…is worth watching, alebit as an interesting failure…

Video reviews in Video Vibes:

• Retribution, directed by Guy Magar … John Gilbert only comments on the plot and does not actually review the film.
• Werewolf, directed by David Hemmings …Watch it if you see nothing else.
  
• Creepozoids, dircected by David DeCocteau …there’s bad and there’s bad, but this is worse…avoid like the plague.
• Masters of the Universe, directed by Gary Godard …Fast, fanciful, and fun.
• Dead of Night, directed by Deryn Warren …as the old saying goes, if you want gore you certainly won’t want more.

Off the Shelf covered book reviews, divided by format, and with an introductory article about the history and trends in fantasy literature, including horror), from Di Wathen:

• Lightning, by Dean Koontz; Headline HB …You’ll go through a whole alphabet of mini-climax as you notch your way up to the biggie – and it’s special…
• 1998, by Richard Turner and William Osborne; Sphere HB …it left me as lightly as a dandelion seed, wishing for something of more substance.
• The Awakeners, by Sheri S. Tepper; Bantam Press HB …There’s something of the child in her latest novel, though it comes from a dark wonder within the story, rather than any immaturity in style…
• Swansong, by Robert R. McCammon; Sphere HB …as broad as its characters and you’ll find enough images to keep you thinking about it for weeks after its conclusion.
• Oktober, by Stephen Gallagher; Hodder & Stoughton HB …shows why Hodder and Stoughton is one of the biggest British publishers. It keeps picking winners.
• The Scream, by John Skipp and Craig Spector; Bantam HB …You want to rock? This is the book to give you the roll. And then some.
• The Influence, by Ramsey Campbell; Century HB …It is the sort of supernatural ending you could attach to Miss Haversham’s life in Charles Dicken’s Great Expectations…
• Sepulchre, by James Herbert; New English Library HB …to be read with relish – as red as you can get.
• Fiend, by Guy N. Smith; Sphere PB …the storyline is unusual enough to make you pluck it off the bookshelf…
• Spellbinder, by Colin Wilcox; WH Allen PB …shows how brittle human reason can be and how it can reverse into forms of perverted logic. Brilliant.
• The Wrym, by Stephen Laws; Souvenir Press PB …an excellent, breathtaking, morbid read…
• Tread Softly, by Richard Kelly; WH Allen PB …does nothing for the horror genre…
• Valley of Lights, by Stephen Gallagher; New English Library PB …The moment you get serious with this book you’ll be hooked into a compulsive read…
• Watchers, by Dean R. Koontz; Headline PB …As excellently crafted as all Koontz’s books, the story is long, involved and chillingly possible in today’s scientific climate.
• Deliver Us From Evil, by Allen Lee Harris; Bantam PB …a book of character rather a slasher’s party… Keep an eye on this man.

A truly stellar line-up of repsected creators, most of whom are still producing amazing work today. From this issue I tracked down Swansong, The Influence, The Wyrm, Watchers and Tread Softly (not sure why, on re-reading the review). I’ve still got them on my bookshelves today, (as I have all my titles from the later 80s and early 90s). As a result of the film reviews I watched Creepozoids (although the review was negative the monster looked great), The Hidden and The Monster Squad on video, and avoided Masters of the Universe at all costs, and have continued to do so.

And that was Fear Issue 1, dated July / August, 1988. 76 glossy pages. The beginning of a wonderful period of dark enlightenment.

The chapbook will hopefully be the first of several and we hope it’ll prove to be a nice little collector’s item in the future, when our careers reach heady heights, ahem…

I thought it would be nice to share the cover, which was designed by Lee Casey, and contents with you as a teaser.

Horror Reanimated 1: Echoes contains 3 pieces of fiction totalling 25,000 words; one from each of us:

• Joseph D’Lacey’s Rhiannon’s Reach – the victim of a diving accident conquers his fear of the water
• Bill Hussey’s A Room Thus Stained – a Victorian vigilante loses himself in the streets of Whitechapel
• Mathew F. Riley’s Part of the Landscape – a disenchanted worker is drawn from the everyday into an underworld of memories which form the fabric and structure of London

The night on May 7th at Borders kicks off at 6.45pm and then we’re all off to the pub – upstairs at The White Horse on Newburgh Street for around 8.30pm. A customer review on Beer In The Evening states: “Great sausages, great red wine. I’m happy.” Can’t say fairer than that I guess, and hopefully they’ll be selling some nice ales too.

It’d be good to see you there.

These two nights in London kick off The Horror Reanimated Tour – more information here.

It’ll be published in New Horizons in June, but I wanted to show you the illustration that will accompany the story – as I’ve only just received it today and am incredibly happy with it.

Due to the unavailability of a friend or two, I recently put up an announcement on LinkedIn that I was looking for an artist to have a go at illustrating the story, in a very traditional pen and ink style that suits the tone of the piece. I was fortunate enough to receive a great response from several artists, but I opted to go with Robert Elrod, and boy am I glad I did, as I hope you’ll agree.

Robert read the story and fortunately liked it and came up with a pencil sketch for my comment.

He then inked it and finished it off in Photoshop. Robert’s also written a little blog piece on the process.

It was a satisfying experience all round and I like to think that Robert and I will work together in the future. He also produces bespoke Monster Portraits…

And, thanks to Andrew Hook, Editor of New Horizons, for letting me share this artwork in advance of the magazine’s publication.

The cover of the magazine can be seen on the Stories page, but I though I’d share the accompanying illustration with you, which was inked by my friend and ex-colleague Owen Priestley, a great artist, illustrator and graphic designer whose work you can check out in the appropriate Links section. Owen’s also illustrated a couple of my other stories and I’ll pop those up too, when they see the light of day.

The story is the first of several that are inspired by the subway systems and tunnels beneath New York, employing them both as a location, and as a character. It also revolves around the idea that once the darkness of the tunnels has seen you, got inside you, it’s difficult to make the break and return to the surface of the City.

Here’s an excerpt from Everything He Touched, Burned:

“That, my friends, that is why we lives like we lives. Ain’t nobody giving none of us a ball contract. What we got is a complete lack of talent. That’s what God gifted us. What you waitin for? Go git it little man!”

Milton’s barked order awoke Julius from his sun-induced stupor. He jumped to his feet and went after the rogue basketball that bounced down the slope surrounding the decaying court.

“Hurry UP half-breed! It only a bit of plastic, it CANNOT be faster than you! Man that was one poor attempt…”

Julius heard these last words trailing off in disgust, thankfully aimed not at him, but at Will who’d made the awful shot. The other boys laughed and echoed their leader’s jibes. Julius sensed their impatience with the quality of their game, and with him. He was fourteen, a Latino, neither black nor white in a predominantly black neighbourhood: the youngest, newest, and smallest of the crew. These facts of his life meant he often sat out the game, reduced to the lowly task of ball boy. He hoped to earn their trust and respect gradually, on his own terms. He’d learnt his first lesson fast: do not argue with Milton, even when you are in the right. His arm was still bruised where Milton had proved his point the week before.

He scurried towards the broken concrete path that traversed the park’s baked mud flats. The ball was gaining speed, gravity and rubber outpacing him. If he’d been paying attention this wouldn’t be happening. The damn thing was rolling into the storm drain! If he let that happen he’d take another beating and be expected to come up with a new basketball in time for the next game. Which was something he knew he wouldn’t be able to do: he couldn’t ask his mom for a loan; she had other priorities these days, and he certainly wasn’t one of them.

The basketball bumped into the storm drain with a hollow thump. Julius reached it one second too late, but the ball didn’t disappear from view as he expected it to. Instead it wedged itself into the space between the discoloured concrete lips and sat there, waiting for him.

Please, please stay right there…

“Man you IS lucky.”

Julius ignored Milton’s distant observation, luck was something he was sure he’d never experienced, and bent down to retrieve the basketball. He linked his hands behind it, and felt something lick or breathe or both on the backs of his hands. He ripped the ball towards him, scrabbled backwards as fast as he could and fell onto his backside. He heard his crew laughing even harder behind him, but their merciless taunting quickly faded into the background ambience of the City.

Julius sat on the path with the ball in his lap, and stared at the face that watched him from the drain.

***

The story was partly inspired by reading The Mole People by Jennifer Toth which gave me a great deal of  ambience, which would otherwise have necessitated a trip down a sewer system. A viewing of the film Dark Days also helped set the tone once the story moves beneath the surface. Finally, I would like to thank Rick Kleffel and Kealan Patrick Burke for their advice and comments.

If you’re interested in reading more then I believe you can purchase Dark Horizons from the British Fantasy Society by emailing Helen Hopley at store@britishfantasysociety.org. The issue looks pretty good judging by the diversity and interests of the contributors, all of whom are detailed on this page.