Dark horse/'därk '?hôrs/noun1. a candidate or competitor about whom little is known but who unexpectedly wins or succeeds."a dark-horse candidate"Join us for a monthly tour of writers who give as good as they get. From hard science-fiction to stark, melancholic apocalypses; from Lovecraftian horror to zombies and horror comedy; from whimsical interludes to tales of unlikely compassion--whatever it is, if it's weird, it's here. So grab a seat before the starting gun fires, pour yourself a glass of strange wine, and get ready for the running of the dark horses. In this issue:GALADRA, THE SONA. Z. BurtonLULLABYSteve LoiaconiPENUMBRADanny MenterSPUDDYCorey MillerTHE QUICK AND THE JURASSIC UNDEADWayne Kyle SpitzerTHE BUG AND THE EGGNenad PavlovicTHE TERROR AT WOODRUFFMichael PenncavageTHE WATCHMANJames CrowellA POX ON THEMTS S. FulkGHOST TOUCHStephen Meisel

Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction No. 21 | October 2023 - Dark Horses Magazine, #21

A young man's "blooding" can haunt him for the rest of his life. Especially when he's not even sure what he killed.

That Thing We Killed

Dark horse/'därk '?hôrs/noun1. a candidate or competitor about whom little is known but who unexpectedly wins or succeeds."a dark-horse candidate" Join us for a monthly tour of writers who give as good as they get. From hard science-fiction to stark, melancholic apocalypses; from Lovecraftian horror to zombies and horror comedy; from whimsical interludes to tales of unlikely compassion--whatever it is, if it's weird, it's here. So grab a seat before the starting gun fires, pour yourself a glass of strange wine, and get ready for the running of the dark horses. In this issue: A DAY WITH DADDYBrian J. Smith A GOOD NAMEMalcolm Todd APOCALYPTOPHILIAMatthew Wollin JUST BREATHEDL Shirey KING RATH. V. Patterson SACRIFICE FLYJohn Prather THE SPECTACULAR DEATH OF BILLY NICHOLSJoel Fishbane VICTORY IN DEATHJR Blanes NEVER SWIM ALONEClay Waters THE DREAMING CITYWayne Kyle Spitzer

Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction No. 15 | April 2023 - Dark Horses Magazine, #15

The camera whipped back to focus on Dieter, behind whom the strange sky-lights moved, bleeding in and out of each other, like globs of wax in a lava lamp. "Alas, even our master race can, at times, produce . aberrations. A man or woman of perfect Aryan descent who, nonetheless . fails to display the proper traits." He gestured with his hand as if to say, Bring him, quickly. "And such a man will be offered in homage today, my friends; to placate the beasts that are the sub-masters of this new world, and to introduce our new allies to how it is that we-the new Nephilim-do things." He nodded slowly as a man was forced writhing and struggling up to the main gate. "How it is that we have survived, even thrived, amidst a world that has killed so many. And the level of cruelty we expect from any and all who would join us."Jesus, gods, he's talking about a sacrifice, thought Charlotte, even as another movement caught the corner of her eye. She focused on where she'd noticed it and saw what appeared to be a tail-like a great, green dagger-before it disappeared behind a stand of cypress trees. So, too, did something move on the opposite side of the lot, causing the trees to sway. It's like we're being triangulated, she thought-even as the man was thrown to the muddy ground outside the fence and the gate swung quickly shut.

Flashback Dawn: "The Children's Reich" - Flashback Dawn: A Serialized Novel, #5

First came the time-storm, which erased half the population. Then came the Dinosaur Apocalypse . How did it all begin? Well, that depends on where you were and who you ask. In some places it started with the weather-which quickly became unstable and began behaving in impossible ways. In still others it started with the lights in the sky, which shifted and pulsed and could not be explained. Elsewhere it started with the disappearances: one here, a few there, but increasing in occurrence until fully three quarters of the population had vanished. Either way, there is one thing on which everyone agrees-it didn't take long for the prehistoric flora and fauna to start showing up (often appearing right where someone was standing, in which case the two were fused, spliced, amalgamated). It didn't take long for the great Time-displacement called the Flashback-which was brief but had aftershocks, like an earthquake-to change the face of the earth. Nor for the stories, some long and others short, some from before the maelstrom (and resulting societal collapse) and others after, to be recorded. Welcome to the Lost Country. From "The Dreaming City": It was at once garish and sublime, hipster and gauche, a burnt-orange relic of a bygone era with a tip of the hat to Frank Lloyd Wright and a debt to Googie architecture-a thing as righteous as it was ridiculous, which sat amongst its desert like an outsider, an intruder, as out of place as the transplanted palms and piped-in water, as artificial as L. A. itself. "They weren't kidding when they called it the Lost Aztec Temple of Mars, " I said, as Rusty fidgeted and nickered, and shook flies from his ears. "But what's with all the high fencing and concertina wire-only to leave the entire front-perimeter open? There's just a hedgerow. No fence at all."Nigel sat up in his saddle and looked on, the sweat beading along his forehead. "Be damned if I know; it wasn't like that before." He looked around the area-skittishly, I thought. "Maybe he had it removed when they took out the road. He was like that, you know. All about the visual." He pointed at the house itself. "Wouldn't have been a problem, though, even if it were there-there's a man door in the fence just beyond that breezeway."I held out my arm as everyone started to move. "I-hold up. I-ah, I don't like this."I scanned the overgrown yard and the cosmetically-placed boulders (some of which were the size of moving vans); looking for traps, looking for threats. "It doesn't feel right."Lazaro got off his horse and approached the hedgerow-then turned to face us, splaying his arms. "What? You heard Jamaica; dude was all about the visual. Probably figured there was no need-once the road was taken out. For a front fence, I mean." He let his arms slap to his sides. "Now are we going to go check it out, or what? Or are you all just going to sit there all day?"And there was a growling noise, a deep-throated snarl, which sounded from behind one of the rocks even as a shadow fell across the knee-high grass-at which a great cat padded out which was easily the size of a pickup, and hissed at us: its huge pallet showing pink and pale, its black lips stretching, its whiskers and curved fangs-which were like tusks-gleaming in the sun.    "Lazaro, don't!" But it was too late; he'd already drawn his pistol and squeezed off a few rounds-which went pop, pop, pop in the late afternoon sun and echoed along the hills; which reverberated across the valley like the sound of a car backfiring .

The Lost Country, Episode Two: "The Dreaming City" - The Lost Country, #2

With just hours to go before the Flashback, L. A. explodes in racial unrest ... From Sun-Dogs: It happens so fast we barely have time to notice how wrong everything it is, how incongruous-how empty the intersection at Florence and Normandie feels, how the palms and other vegetation-the grass itself-all seem to have grown and multiplied. Or that the streets are now full of abandoned cars and trucks-as though everyone has just gotten up and wandered off, wandered into the smoke-or that we are being triangulated from the instant we touch down: triangulated and set upon-all of it before we've even unloaded our equipment or Peter has shut off the engine. All of it in a virtual eyeblink. All of it, in short, in a perfect whirlwind-as the jackals, the wolves, the fucking emus (only with lashing tails and monitor lizard teeth), descend on us like flies, like marauders. As Peter takes the helicopter up and I do the only thing I can; which is pretty much to drag Sunny into the nearby Chevron (even as the engine whines and the animals scatter), and, ultimately, watch her bleed out and die in my arms. And then it's over, and I'm alone, and there is nothing but the television squawking and a lone siren. Then it's just me and Bizarro L. A. and Patty Severinsen-Wood-the eleven o'clock news anchor-who apparently hasn't gotten the memo. "It is, ah, now eleven o'clock and, ah, tonight a community is venting its fury over the verdicts in the Troy Harper beating trial. Fires are raging in South Central Los Angeles at this hour-a testament to the anger and frustration felt by many of its residents. It began just a few hours after the verdicts were announced, with people looting stores and setting them on fire, but quickly escalated to assaults and beatings; four drivers, at least, pulled from their vehicles and attacked. Chaos also erupted at the downtown Parker Center, L. A.'s police headquarters, where scuffles broke out throughout the evening. Meanwhile, police in riot gear can mostly just stand by, hoping by their presence to somehow keep a grasp on order. We're going live to one of our news ." But I'm no longer listening, only tittering uncontrollably. I'm no longer doing much of anything but marveling at the absurdity of it all-the futility. And then I'm not even doing that; but just staring at Sunny. Then I'm crying as the tv drones on and the whump-whump of the helicopter slowly remanifests.

Sun-Dogs

Welcome to Black Sheep: Unique Tales of Terror and Wonder, an extraordinary anthology magazine that transcends the boundaries of science-fiction, fantasy, and horror. Prepare to embark on a thrilling journey through the darkest corners of the human imagination, where the ordinary becomes extraordinary, and the mundane transforms into a realm of unspeakable terror and awe-inspiring wonder. Within these pages, you'll discover a collection of captivating stories carefully curated to transport you to realms beyond the mundane. Each issue presents an array of unique tales crafted by talented visionaries, both established and emerging, who dare to defy conventions and push the boundaries of speculative fiction. Whether you're a seasoned lover of the fantastic or just curious to explore new frontiers, Black Sheep: Unique Tales of Terror and Wonder will be your guide through the realms of the extraordinary. Prepare to be enthralled, enchanted, haunted. So put on your dark sunglasses . and unleash your inner Black Sheep. In this issue:SHADOW AND SONGAndrew BrenzaDOCTOR WEGMAN'S MIRACLE MISTChristian GreenDUST TO DUSTAnthony FergusonERROR_CODE: 1072J. Paul RossTHE DEVIL DRIVES A '66Wayne Kyle SpitzerPOND MOUTHKeith LaFountaineTAKE IT AWAYRyan HonakerCECIL, THE DEMON, AND THE TREEMichael SchulmanTO TAKE WHAT IS BESTPaul Cesarini

Black Sheep: Unique Tales of Terror and Wonder No. 9 - Black Sheep Magazine, #9

"Those I can hear, " said Luna-and began retreating up the stairs again. "They only talk when they're about to attack."Williams, meanwhile, had focused on Ank. "Jesus . it called me by name."Ank stared at him from beneath his brow. Williams nodded slowly. "But how in God's name? The only one who knew our names was . Unless-"Williams misted up as he thought of the saloon girl who had shown him such affection. "I won't shoot them, then.""I said I won't shoot them, " he snapped, and turned toward Luna, who was cowering at the top of the stairs. "We'll have to find another way." To Luna he said: "It's all right, sweetie. Everything's going to be all right.""Meh, " Williams sighed angrily and moved toward the building's front windows, which Ank had blocked with pinball machines and video games, with only partial success. Ank lumbered after him, the tiled floor cracking beneath his elephantine feet. "Go away!" Williams hissed. He peeked around one of the machines and saw the raptors lined up in the gathering dark, waiting to make their move, waiting to rush the snack bar and overwhelm them, waiting to kill them or, worse, to turn them into creatures like themselves."Are you talking to me?" whined the girl, her voice seeming to bleed as if cut by invisible knives. "Why would you want me to go away all of a sudden?""No-that's not what I meant-I ."Williams held up his rifle-pressed his forehead against it."Come out, Williams!""Yes, my love, come out!" A new voice. Her voice. Katrina. Williams squeezed his eyes shut. And then they were coming, he could hear their growls and the tapping of their awful sickle-claws against the cracked and broken pavement, and Ank was charging past him, breaking through the windows and walls, roaring defiantly, and when Williams looked up he saw the dinosaurs collide like thunderheads, heard Luna scream her piercing, drill bit scream, and knew they'd never make it to Barley, to say nothing of Tanelorn.

The Complete Ank and Williams

The steel mesh started to break: first one joint, then another. Napoleon stood sideways on the fence like a parrot, his splay toes gripping the bars. He braced himself with his legs and pulled at the grid with his teeth. The muscles of his neck rippled; his growl was a steady trill. Metal squealed as he peeled a section back. Lightning flashed nearby, followed by a crack-kaboom! In the wash of light, the man saw the dinosaur looking at him. Glaring at him. Its color had gone blood red. He dropped the shock prod and swallowed, tasting bile. His head was swimming; he felt nauseated. The game had gone far enough, he realized. He had to end it-he had to end it now. He stepped back over to the control box and flipped it open, sought out the RUN ELECTRIFICATION button. He punched it with the bottom of his fist. The air seemed to vibrate, and sparks exploded beneath Napoleon's hands and feet. The dinosaur was knocked off the fence instantly. It crashed into the mud with a tremendous splash, and writhed violently. Then it struggled to its feet and latched onto the fence again. Sparks popped and spit; there was the smell of burnt flesh. Napoleon backed off, cocking his head. His foreclaws opened and closed. He sniffed at the electrically charged air, and at the ground. His left foot was smoking. He didn't approach the fence again. The man stepped closer and peered through the mesh. "You're learning, aren't you?" he said, and scooped up the shock prod from the mud. He wiped it on his lab coat. "You're learning not to mess with me, aren't you?"Napoleon looked at him, then shifted his neck to the side oddly. He was looking at something behind the man, something low to the ground. The man turned around. There was nothing there but the steel hatch to the feeding shaft, set into concrete like an oversized manhole cover. It was dotted with dried blood and padlocked heavily. He turned back to Napoleon, dismissing the behavior, and found the dinosaur craning to look behind itself. Its head was cocked as though listening to something. The man exhaled; he was tired of playing dino-games. "Well, " he began, preparing to prod it a final time, "here 's one for the road ..."A pair of headlights suddenly appeared in the distance, from the direction the T was looking. They were moving through the blackness out beyond the perimeter, winking in and out between trees. The man glimpsed the car as it passed beneath a street light: it was a sleek white Saturn, the kind employed by Atrax Security. Its bluish spotlight scanned the area. S. O. Trevor was making his nightly perimeter check.

Napoleon (Silver Edition)

Lonny hesitated, trembling. "Y-you mean it's just trying to scare us?"Handlebar tweaked his nose. "That's right."The fire returned to the young man's eyes-almost. He looked around the shattered dock, at the riddled corpse and the oily, bloody water, at the spitting power lines and the dead lights, the peeling boardwalk on the shore. He shook his head. "No, it's not. It-it doesn't pretend, like you. It's gonna kill us, that's all." He stepped closer. "Can't you see that? You posing hillbilly? The spill's given it a-a lean season. It's sick, and it's hungry, and ."He glanced at the corpse. "And we probably just killed its mate."

Lean Season

That's when she sees the Shape again. Sees it through the shattered passenger window-silhouetted against a flash of lightning, approaching over the desert hills, maneuvering impossibly."No ." she whimpers, as Frodo barks and howls. Then a horn sounds and she faces forward-in time to avoid a head-on collision by mere seconds. By the time she skids to a stop on the shoulder of the road, a man is running up to her, apologetic, out of breath, asking if she is okay. She gets out, shrieking and gesturing with her arms, completely hysterical."Did you see it? Did you see it?"He catches her wrists in his hands and holds them-an overly intimate gesture she could be offended by, but isn't."I saw a jet, " he says, staring into her eyes, continuing to hold her hands. "A jet-they're everywhere out here today. They must be doing maneuvers or something. It's okay, all right? You're okay."She begins to calm down at last, however slightly. There's something about him, something about his mild eyes and soft but firm hands, his shock of dark hair, his soothing voice. She senses something and looks up, sees a fighter jet flying right over the top of them-low enough that she can make out the rivets in its fuselage. It is there and gone before its sharp-edged whine even cuts the air."See?" he says, releasing her hands. "Just a jet."

The Men | Two - The Men: A Tale of Alien Terror, #2

There is a byway between reality and dream. A transit we call Möbius Blvd .Inspired by the enigmatic Möbius strip, a mathematical construct that defies conventional notions of linearity and infinity, Möbius Blvd has no beginning or end but exists in a place where reality and dream have fused . coalesced . merged. With each turn of the page, you'll encounter a unique blend of horror, fantasy, and science-fiction-fiction that will challenge your perceptions and leave you in awe of the infinite possibilities that exist within the written word. Indeed, Möbius Blvd is far more than a magazine; it's an experience. It's an exploration of the infinite, a passage through dimensions where the only constant is storytelling at its most daring, a kaleidoscope of wonder and terror. Join us on this winding, never-ending journey of speculative fiction that will keep you entranced from the first twist to the last loop. Open your mind to the limitless worlds of Möbius Blvd . and discover that the boundary between fiction and reality is as thin as a strip of paper with a twist. In this issue:SETTJon GluckmanWHERE THE TALL CORN GROWSMary Jo RabeDRAG MARKSRutger MiddelburgLAST SUPPERPatrick CrerandFLASHBACK DAWNWayne Kyle SpitzerLONGEVITYVivian DoolittleMESSAGE IN A BOTTLECharmaine ArjoonlalA SPECIAL GAMETroy Ernest HillKILL THE FINNISH WOLFRobb T. WhiteHOLLY WOODS MAGIC: GARDEN GNOME DAYRoss Kimble

Mobius Blvd: Stories from the Byway Between Reality and Dream No. 4 | February 2024 - Mobius Blvd: Stories from the Byway Between Reality and Dream, #4

"You talk to yourself a lot, don't you?" said Luna. Williams looked at her and finally smiled in spite of himself. "Or it just may be that he's really talking to me, and you just can't hear it." He tweaked her nose. "Yet. Either way, you need to eat something and get some sleep. We all do. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.""Why a big day?""Ank, camping gear, " he said, and the dinosaur folded his front legs with a groan. "Because we're going to head out for Barley's in the morning." He loosed his bedroll from the supplies strapped to Ank's back and tossed it to her. "The place where the sounds on your radio come from. We've-we're searching for something. A place we call Tanelorn. And we think that might be it.""Tanelorn, " she repeated. "What's that?"Williams rested his arms on the bundles of supplies, thinking about it. "I don't know, exactly. I reckon it's just a place someone feels drawn to . even if they don't know why. A place where the homeless can find a home, maybe." He looked at the lights in the sky, the Alien Borealis, as Ank called it, and wondered. "But it may be that it's something else-a kind of Omega Point. A place where all the colors of the spectrum meet, like a prism. And become focused into a single, burning light. Maybe that's what people mean when they talk about the power and the glory." He tugged on a rope, releasing a waterfall of pots and pans. "Meh. It's just something to keep us going.""Like a magnifying glass, " she said, ignoring his last statement. He paused, thinking about it. "Like a magnifying glass, " he agreed. Then he added, "Now, what'll it be? Beans or beans?"

Paladins: A Post-apocalyptic Western

Bloodthirsty reindeer, velociraptors on a red-eye flight to Houston, a demonic house-cat, bat creatures from the clouds of Jupiter, a town besieged by carnosaurs, an inhuman defender, a ring of unimaginable power, a mother and her son on the run from prehistoric terror, a murdered thing whose memory will not die--these are just some of the forces you'll encounter in this compendium of the monstrous. But beware: The natural (and the supernatural) world are red in tooth in claw ...

Livres