This might seem a bit of a strange book to feature on my site, focussing as I do so much on the darker side of life but there is a special reason for this one. I am part of a beta-reading group and I was privileged to be involved in the development of this particular book. I read it very much in the role of my real life job of school librarian and the teen/YA audience I have, but regardless of that, the story just sucked me in anyway. With me, it is always the storytelling that will carry a book and I wish this one every success.

Ink Dreams by Emmy Z. Madrigal

Teen life sure sucks when you’re half-octopus.

Living on land with her mortal mother seems safe for octo-gal Tealy McKracken until she comes of age and inks herself in front of the town’s mean girl. It doesn’t help that her childhood crush is dating the annoying fashionista werewolf. Disturbing dreams of singing sea creatures aren’t helping.

Can Tealy possibly control her inking, stay away from an evil vampire witch, and win the heart of the vampire prince? Find out in this tentacled love story.

Available on Kindle and Audible.

An excerpt from Ink Dreams:

Tealy’s dream took on a darker element than it had in the past. She still saw the jungle of seaweed swaying, the rocks and the corral, but the jellyfish were gone. In fact, she could neither see nor sense any sea life at all. As she swam through a dark cavern, a chanting came to her. A low humming like that of her mother’s sewing machine from the other room.

Come child, the sea song said. Come home to the sea.

She blinked, thinking perhaps her eyes were closed, but they were open and yet, she could see nothing, not even shadows. A large green eye appeared, glossy and intelligent, staring at her from a massive, green, tentacled body. She took a deep breath, tried to swim backwards, but she couldn’t breathe. Water filled her human lungs and her gills didn’t work. She coughed, grasping her gills, feeling an oily substance cover her fingertips.

Tealy woke in her room, coughing. She sat up, covering her mouth and coming away with a sticky, slippery substance. Switching on the light, she found something like dark purple oil on her hand. She coughed again and more came out, as well as some from her gills, running down her neck. She reached for a tissue on the nightstand, but the tissue could not withstand the inky substance and turned into a bigger mess.

“Mum!” she screamed as well as she could with ink gurgling in her throat.

“What is it?” Elizabeth ran into the room. “Good heavens!” She went back into the hall and returned with a few towels.

“What’s happening to me? What is this?” Tealy took one of the towels and wiped off her hands as her mother cleaned up her neck, taking extra care around her gills.

“Oh honey, I’m afraid it’s all a part of becoming an adult. I wish your father were here to explain.”

“You mean this is normal for…for my kind?”

“Yes.”

“Great. My period isn’t enough? I have to bleed through my mouth, too?” Tealy’s memory flashed back two years when she’d woke in the middle of the night with purple blood stains on her sheets.

“It isn’t blood, dear. It’s ink.”

“But why?”

“Your father told me that when you live in the water, it’s a necessity. It’s a protection mechanism that can blind and damage other water inhabitants.”

“Why did it happen now?”

“You must’ve had a nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s hard to explain. There was a big green eye…I don’t remember much else.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Elizabeth hugged her daughter, rubbing her back. “I wish I was more help, but I may have something that will help.” Her mother took the two soiled towels from Tealy and left her with the last clean one as she went into the hall. A few minutes later she came back with a small leather book attached to a leather, braided cord. She placed it on Tealy’s lap and put a piece of parchment folded in threes and sealed with a purple wax seal on top. “Your father gave me this book when you were born, and he gave me the letter before his last mission.”

To read more of Ink Dreams, or to hear the audiobook, go to Amazon.com

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Book trailer embed link: https://youtu.be/hxpzKgirAJY

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07YCFL5FR

Author link: http://emmyzmadrigal.com/

A common theme in time for Halloween, producing one flash, Strawberry Patch, and one poem, Harvest, both new, both free to read.

Strawberry Patch

Jack’s field contains many tumours, globes twined together across the soil, eyes and mouths already carved. He makes no distinction, cultivating black, brown and white alike. Orange is left for the front-of-house, where the children run and weave between the rows, parents dashing after them, their laughter piercing the night. Orange, however, soon gives way to black and his trap snaps shut, trip wires revealing holes dug ready for their planting, lined with steel-veined bindweed whose tendrils hold them tight.

This field has its own customers. When the moon is full, they climb down from their guard posts across the countryside and march towards it. The men of straw browse the rows of the latest merchandise, seeking the fresh and the new, the face they will take for another year.

“This one,” points a customer.

“Good choice,” says Jack, and swings his scythe. “The changing room is over there,” he adds, nodding towards the barn. “You know the way.”

The customer rustles over to the building where Jack’s wife removes the old head, replaces it with the new.

They stand side-by-side and gaze into an old mirror, nodding their approval. Then the customer disappears into the dark, stands back against his post and raises his new face for all the world to see. Others make a similar purchase until Jack glances up and sees the clouds drifting across the moon, the grey light of dawn rising.

“Time to sleep, love,” he says to his wife.

“We had a good night,” she replies. “I’ve counted the takings.” She nods at the pile of discarded heads, shrivelled gourds, last year’s model.

In the field, blankets of straw cover the harvested crop, a strawberry patch for another time.

With the approaching publication of HWA’s Poetry Showcase Volume 6, containing my poem Stringed Pearls, I have been slowly getting back into writing in this form and even allowed it to filter into my real life job with the setting up of a small poetry group for students in the library after school. The writing these teens have created is amazing and seriously challenged me to equal theirs. I love that in each generation, there will always be people who love words enough to play with them and create new works of art.

One form I played with a while ago, and something I’d like to return to are Wordblock poems which allow you to play with words and their actual shape. Below are wordblock poems, Air and Fire. (Now I need to work out some that are a bit darker in appearance!)

Air

Fire

If you want to see more of my poems, you can find them in my collection, Dark is my Playground, available on amazon. Gone (below), a found poem based on HTTP status codes is included.

Summer has gone, in theory, and so I thought it a good time to review what I’ve achieved this past month.

First, a major step up for me came from Silver Shamrock Publishing. I’ve just signed a contract with them for my gothic horror novella, Bottled, which will come out in February 2020. It features a family curse, an unwanted inheritance and a collection of impossible bottles – those bottles which hold amazing miniature scenes, the ones you always spend your time wondering how on earth it was done.

How did this novella come into being? I was only thinking about that yesterday and suddenly remembered it evolved from a short story. A few years back, The Guardian newspaper ran a Stephen King short story competition, the theme being cursed objects. Those short-listed would be sent off to King for him to choose the winner. Needless to say my story didn’t get that far but it did stay with me and became something which niggled away at the back of my mind, demanding to be developed into a longer tale. And so Bottled was born. Keep an eye out for it when it’s published, have a read and tell me what you think.

As you can see above, Things in the Well’s charity anthology, Trickster’s Treats 3, The Seven Deadly Sins Edition, is now available, both in print and in ebook form. It contains my short story, The Devil Inside, dedicated to the slothful amongst you. The anthology is all for a good cause Charity: Water. Please consider buying and supporting this charity. I’ve ordered my copy and can’t wait to read the other stories.

I’ve recently reviewed proof copies of both the Horror Writers Association’s Poetry Showcase Volume 6, containing my poem, Stringed Pearls and Horrorscope Press’ flash fiction anthology, Horror Without Borders, which includes my story, Silo. I can’t wait to finally see both in publication.

In amongst the usual writer’s lot of rejections, I’ve just received an acceptance for a reprint of my gothic story, The Choir. This will feature in Gray Rabbit’s Horror for the Throne anthology.

Some more of my horror poetry will appear in another Horrorscope press anthology due out next year, Hidden Realms.

In print soon! Remember my gothic horror novelette, Asylum of Shadows, is out on amazon. Currently only available in Kindle format, it is hoped to be in print form before Christmas. If you’re wondering whether to read it or not, check out these reviews from Morgan K. Tanner at Aphotic Realm  and The Sci-Fi and Fantasy Reviewer. A thank you to anybody who reviews any book by the way, it’s always appreciated.

And if you want to see other examples of my writing, there are still the following collections available on amazon: The Reckoning – short stories, Dark is my Playground – poetry, The Dark Bites – flash fiction. (Note, amazon has linked both ebook and paperback for The Dark Bites but not for the other two, although both are available in both formats.)

The Reckoning A collection of dark tales by Stephanie Ellis

Horror Tree’s Trembling With Fear zine is still keeping me busy during the week but I must say having an additional editor to take over the Serials, Specials and Unholy Trinities has helped tremendously. I’d never get anything written otherwise.

I’m still fitting in some reading and reviewing for HorrorAddicts.net and Apex Minions programme when I can, as well as reading my way through various books for my day job. The number of students in my library who come up to me saying, ‘Miss, I think this should be a T+‘ is nobody’s business. That is a gripe of mine. Publishers putting something as 12+ and you read it and think, um, no, 14+.

So that’s me for September, now scurrying back to my email box to see if I’ve had a response from Doug Murano and Michael Bailey for their Miscreations anthology. There were almost 900 submissions for this call so I’m not overly optimistic but looking at the line-up, I’ll definitely be buying when it’s out.

With the release of book two of the PLAGUE MASTER Series, readers get to rediscover teenager Trevor Seth. Trevor is hailed as a hero for returning with a vaccine for the zombie infection. His celebrity also makes him a dangerous threat to the powerful Founders of his homeworld.

Founder Cameron acts as host and jailor for the famous teen, but that doesn’t stop him from running curious tests of his own on the boy.

Excerpt From Chapter 5 of Plague Master: Rebel Infection

A stranger bounded in, flipped the metal latch at the end of the aisle, and raced past the open door of the final cell. He sprinted up the open aisle and slammed into the side of the cage. He reached over, grabbed the half-zombie, and yanked it down, nearly onto his own head. The ragged thing crunched to the concrete floor below.

The strange teenager heaved himself up and grabbed Trevor’s pitchfork. Whirling it, he whooped as he slashed the big zombie. The zombie sank onto pointed tines. Trevor’s rescuer shoved the impaled body off the cage, knocking climbing zombies to the straw-laden floor. Black blood dribbled down the handle, pooling around his savior’s fingers. He was shorter and heavier than Trevor, with pale hair beneath a floppy hat.

“Enough.” Cameron sighed and dropped onto the fencing beside the younger man. It bounced like a trampoline. Rising from bent knees, Cameron faced the last zombies. He drew a pistol and finished two with quick shots.

“No!” Trevor shouted, hardly able to breathe until he spotted Hailey squirming out from under a body. He covered his aching eyes.

Cameron turned to the boy with the pitchfork, gun still raised. The boy dropped the pitchfork and grabbed his hat from his head. He turned toward Trevor, who still lay against the chain links, and hid a rebellious glare from the Founder.

“Well, Trevor,” Cameron said as he walked over. “That settles things. There are no Plague Masters. The dome collapse on Lindley was ridiculous negligence, nothing more. You are not the hero Elena painted.”

Cameron turned to the hatless boy.

“I heard screaming, sir,” the boy preempted, the picture of deference.

“Who are you?”

“Russ Olson. I work on the grounds.”

“I told my guards not to interfere. Apparently, I should have told the gardeners, as well,” Cameron said with a sneer.

Elena rushed through the open door. “Trevor!”

“Here,” said Trevor. He rolled over onto wobbly knees. The world swam. His fingers lifted the flap of his pocket, finding cold metal loops. Once his vision settled, Cameron would find out just what Trevor thought of his test. Hailey had been a good hostage. Cameron would be a better one.

“Miss Toknan,” Cameron said. “I am very disappointed.”

Elena’s eyes widened as she absorbed the scene.

Founder Cameron contemplated the zombies squirming in the aisle below. “Clear up this mess. You can manage that, can’t you?”

He stomped to Gerd, leaped to the steps, and exited. The others must have attributed Trevor’s infuriated groan to the zombies in the aisle, who munched on their fallen, distracted by their meal.

Sigrid appeared in the open door, her long shadow falling over the hunched zombies. She spotted Elena, and called, “You dead?”

Elena sniffed. “How is your ankle?”

“Better than your neck will be,” Sigrid answered. She limped out of the light, opened a locked case beside the door, and pulled out a rifle.

Trevor struggled upright, ready to defend Elena from the angry guard.

Read more excerpts and see behind the scenes of the PLAGUE MASTER trilogy.

Twitter: @hroulo

Facebook: www.facebook.com/heroulo

Blog: www.heatherroulo.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/hroulo

Author Central: www.amazon.com/author/heatherroulo

Plague Master: Sanctuary Dome (Book 1): https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01CKAPXWW

Plague Master: Rebel Infection (Book 2): https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WTQV6M7

The other week, Angela Yurko Smith, editor at Space and Time magazine, put a call out for writers to contribute a line to her revolution-themed exquisite corpse poem (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exquisite_corpse).

Having followed news of those powerful protests in Hong Kong against the imposition of extradition laws which allows those in Hong Kong to be extradited to China, I chose to write something reflecting current affairs. Protestors were seen marching with umbrellas and the umbrella has pretty much become a symbol of that protest. Whilst this is a protest and not exactly revolution, it could lead to more and that’s where the reference to the ‘velvet hands’ came in – a nod to the ‘Velvet Revolution’ in Czechoslovakia in 1989. I do not need to explain the dragon.

My line came out as:

‘umbrellas form a shield wall, held by velvet hands, to stand against a dragon’

In this, I wanted to show how something as flimsy and everyday as the umbrella can become a powerful symbol against an aggressor. Reading the rest of the poem, there is a similar juxtaposition of something regarded as lesser, weaker, rising up against those who would crush them ‘but still it rises’ and in fighting against an oppressor, so ‘re-evolution’ begins. It’s heartening to see that from over twenty different voices came an overwhelming expression of the power of the human spirit in the face of tyranny.

Why did I join in with this exercise involving only one line?

As a writer who is often left waiting for results of publication submissions, who works on pieces that take weeks and months to complete, it is refreshing to find something else to do in between these more marathon tasks. I already take part in Visual Verse’s monthly call – and you will find all my published work in that forum here – which challenges you to write 50-500 words of prose or poetry in an hour. I do this pretty much as soon as the image has been released on the 1st of the month and as a matter of honour, do not take longer than the allotted time.

Now I’ve got another little monthly challenge.

But why poetry?

I have written, and had some poetry published, and it is very much a form in which I feel at ease, particularly in the way I am allowed to play with language to create an image or feeling. Often something serious or dark will emerge from these efforts but I have so much fun in their creation. I can ignore rules, I can ignore punctuation, I can do what I want. Poetry is my break from the weight of a novel’s structure, the pacing and voice of a short story, the tyranny of grammar.

Poetry is my playground.

Poetry is time to play.

A very recent decision of mine has been to move away from non-paying markets and to submit only to those which will provide a return (even a small one). This is a tough one I’ll admit and will definitely be more of a challenge in terms of getting published as the market is so competitive but if I want to make any headway into turning writing into a career path, it is one I must do. And writers, just like any other profession, deserve to get paid. Having said that, there are instances where I will happily ignore this rule, perhaps someone starting up a venture (for example, Oleg Hasanov’s work with Horrorscope Press over in Russia) and very definitely the world of charity.

Steve Dillon at Things in the Well Press has created Trickster’s Treats 3, a charity Halloween magazine, themed around the Seven Deadly Sins. All proceeds will go to charity: water and help those who are not as privileged as so many of us to gain access to good, clean water. Make sure you pick up a copy when it comes out. Edited by Marie O’ Regan and Lee Murray it’ll certainly be a good read.

I subbed to this and this month received an acceptance for my flash story The Devil Inside which fits into the deadly sin of sloth. I was particularly pleased with this tale as it got through as a blind submission (much like my HWA Poetry Showcase sub). A method which I like as I feel it validates a person’s writing. All preconceptions and knowledge of an author are removed and the words have to speak for themselves.

As an aside, I have actually noticed that the horror industry is very active in charitable fields, much like the heavy metal genre in music and despite appearances I’ve found these are often the nicest, friendliest and most accepting of communities of which you could be part. \m/

I have been waiting for a number of decisions on many submissions for a while now, mainly because I have submitted to publications with either far ahead closing dates or long turnaround times. This gets depressing … BUT there is always a silver lining and this is one of those moments as works long in the pipeline have emerged – or are emerging – into the light. This month has seen:

Thread of the Infinite (Snowbooks) is an industrial horror anthology containing my story, Transcending Nature. Due out 1st August, it is now available for pre-order. This story was written a few years back and accepted for publication but the initial press folded. Dean Drinkel, the editor, was however, determined it should see the light of day and pushed until he found a home for us all. Transcending Nature focusses on the drive of humans to become ever more efficient, in this case in the field of communication and the internet, without considering fully the consequences.

This is an acceptance dear to my heart. My poem, Stringed Pearls, was accepted for this year’s HWA Poetry Showcase and to say I was overwhelmed by this is an understatement. To appear amongst the names listed in this TOC is an absolute dream. Joining the HWA has been one of the best moves I made.

To find out more about my poem, check out Gwendolyn Kiste’s blog in the near future when she will be holding a round table interview featuring the poets involved (and me!)

As many of you know, I co-edit Horror Tree’s Trembling With Fear (TWF) online ezine. This weekly slot features a long piece of flash and a number of drabbles on Sundays, whilst other days sees us publishing serials and Unholy Trinities (three drabbles on a linked theme). Each year we collect the previous year’s stories together and offer them up for publication. This is our second year of publication and we already have 2019 ongoing. This week saw the publication (at last) of all the stories, and some poems, published at TWF. Year 2 contains all those stories published on our normal Sunday slot, ie the long flash and the drabbles (I do have a few drabbles inside). More Tales From the Tree is its companion and contains Unholy Trinities, Serials and Specials. Whilst a small volume this year, I know that next year’s companion is going to be a much bigger affair as we have had a considerable number of Trinities submitted and published and we also have a number of serials going forward. These anthologies are both available on amazon.

TWF features writers of all levels and is often that first stepping stone in publication for many. Horror Tree itself alerts writers to many submission calls as well as posting reviews, interviews and articles. We are very much a community at Horror Tree, run and overseen by the extraordinary Stuart Conover. We regard those who write and submit as family. Why not join us? All are welcome. You can find us on twitter @HorrorTree and Facebook at The Horror Tree.

Fable (Iron Faerie Publishing) is an anthology containing fairy tales but not as you know them. My story, They Wore Red, is a somewhat different re-telling of Little Red Riding Hood.

My gothic horror story, The Choir, features in this month’s edition of The Sirens Call. Free to read!

And last, but not least, my Visual Verse poetry submission, Exposure, is free to read here. Visual Verse is a fantastic writing exercise. One hour to write 50-500 words of poetry or prose and then submit. And I do obey the rules!

Coil by Ren Warom

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Surprised myself at the rating for this. When I first started reading, it felt a bit too sci-fi for my tastes but that all vanished as I read on. The combination noir, sci-fi and post-apocalyptic feel created an extraordinary world and the characters, though hard-boiled, show their vulnerable side enough to make you care. As to what Warom has put one of its main characters, Bone Adams through, is completely absorbing. Very gruesome, amazing imagery, body horror in heaps, it puts you through the wringer as you race to the end to discover who, or what, Bone really is. But you don’t get an answer, that appears to be for another book which I hope will not be long forthcoming. Absolutely loved this.

View all my reviews