"This is who we are, " said the man in the bandana, who stood next to him on the grassy hill. "And this, fellow paladin, is what we do. Beautiful, isn't it?"Williams watched as the steeples of a church burned and collapsed, then focused on a woman carrying a child from the wreckage. The stranger continued: "Don't look to us for the method of carnage-fire is of the Other's design. We only use it as a means to an end. But watch now as I show you what will happen when we descend upon your Barley-and what mercy to expect from us when we finally do. And tell me if it would not be better to simply turn around now, while you still can, and ignore the Call completely."Williams squinted through the smoke as a motorcycle burst into view and bore down upon the woman, its headlight creating a halo, its rider brandishing a sword. Then, before he could so much as cry out a warning, the rider struck, beheading the woman in one fell swoop before continuing on with a rumble and leaving the child abandoned in her arms. And then Williams was turning to the mysterious figure with the intent of killing him with his bare hands, but froze when he saw that the man was no longer there: that he had been replaced with something else, something about 9-feet-tall and covered with kinky hair, with a goat's head and six golden eyes, which vanished as he blinked-awakening with a start-and heard Sheila say, with desperation in her voice: "Will, It's Ank. And he's gone."

A Dinosaur Is A Man's Best Friend: "The Enemy Comes in Dream" - A Dinosaur Is A Man's Best Friend (A Serialized Novel), #5

He went into the kitchen and poured her a glass of water. "How long has it been since you've eaten?""I'm not hungry, " she said. She seated herself slowly, tentatively. "Two, maybe three days. Ever since Sister Samain wrested control of the coven from the Council. Thank you ." She took the glass from Jeremiah, still looking at the paintings. "They're all done by the same hand, aren't they?"He took off his wide-brimmed hat and studied them. "The same eye. Sometimes Jasper's hand shakes uncontrollably and I have to steady it with my own. Other times I am his hand, and he tells me what to do." He laughed a little. "He says that I am an artist, just as he. But even I know it's the eye that sees, not the hands."She continued staring at them. "No, I don't think that's true. These pictures have lines of grace . look, see how the fingers are elongated, and tend to curve up or down depending on the position of the body. They dance upon the canvas . surely you can see that. I think you paint them together, Jeremiah."He swung the strap of the respirator over his head and set it on a mantle. "I'm just his hands." He moved to leave the room again."Just? But hands are for feeling, " she said. He paused at the entrance to the hall. "And they're for killing, too." Then he disappeared into the dark. And she thought, It's the heart that kills, Jeremiah. The hard one by slaying others . and the soft by slaying itself. Then she pushed it from her mind.

The Dagger and the Chalise - The Witch Doctor Trilogy, #2

Carnosaurs . gangs of killer hipsters . post-apocalypse Seattle is to die for. Welcome to the Big Empty, the world after the Flashback ... a world in which most the population has vanished and where dinosaurs roam freely. You can survive here, if you're lucky, and if you're not in the wrong place at the wrong time--which is everywhere and all the time. But what you'll never do is remain the same, for this is a world whose very purpose is to change you: for better or for worse. It is a world where a band of survivors will brave roving packs of monsters and men in post-apocalyptic Seattle to retrieve a prize of incalculable worth, and where a group of travelers will find themselves trapped in a service station with an unravelling President of the United States as prehistoric horror closes in . "Like Land of the Lost - for adults!" - Erik Schubach, Scythe A Flashback Adventure

Escape From Seattle

After breaking their sworn oaths in a fit of forbidden passion, a sacrificial bride (Shekalane) and her fearsome escort (the ferryman Dravidian) find themselves alone and on the run in the subterranean river-world of Ursathrax."Do you know what it is?" he said at last. She studied it, nodding slowly. "I think so. It's a doorway, of sorts. It's what awaits on the other side of death."Dravidian nodded. "It is what Montair speaks of. Not death-but transition. For what winks out in one place winks on in another, always." He stared at the fountain, his eyes seeming to dream. "If I were to step through that door ..." He turned to face her. "Would you come with me?"She looked at him longingly-at his fearsome mask-but hesitated. She trusted him, and yet, was this not how death would come? As a whispering seduction?"I don't know yet, " she said. There was a soft hiss as he depressed the pad at his temple and swung the mask around to his back, then moved his lips to within a few centimeters of her own and paused, breathing slowly, seeming to draw her own breaths from her. "But you would consider it .""But, Dravidian, where would we go? How would we survive?"He cupped her face in his hands. And though he was too close for her to see his face clearly, his beautiful eyes with their golden irises and Stygian pupils drew her in inexorably, like black holes with golden linings, if such a thing were even possible, and she whispered, "I would step through it ..."He took her in his arms and drew her slowly against him. "And would you find the strength within yourself to persevere even when the world turns its cold face against us?""Yes, " she rasped."Then run with me, Shekalane. To the end of Ursathrax and beyond ." And he gently but firmly locked his lips with her own.

Dead World: A Heroic Dark Fantasy Epic in the Horror/Macabre Tradition

First came the time-storm, which erased half the population. Then came the dinosaur apocalypse. How did it all begin? 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 world of the Flashback, a world in which man's cities have become overgrown jungles and extinct animals wander the ruins. You can survive here, if you're lucky, and if you're not in the wrong place at the wrong time--which is everywhere, all the time. But what you'll never do is remain the same, for this is a world whose very purpose is to challenge you, for better or for worse. It is a world where frightened commuters will do battle with murderous bikers even as primordial monsters close in, and others will take refuge in an underground theme park only to find their worst enemy is themselves. Where ordinary people-ne'er-do-wells on a cross-country motorcycle trip, a woman on a redeye flight to Hell, a sensitive boy stricken with visions of what's to come--will find themselves in extraordinary situations, and a gunslinger and his telekinetic ankylosaurus will embark on a dangerous quest. A world where travelers will be trapped with an unravelling President of the United States and a band of survivors will face roving packs of monsters and men in post-apocalyptic Seattle; where rioting teenagers will face deadly predators (as well as their own demons) while ransacking the nation's capital; where a Native-American warrior will seek to bury his past--and offer an elegy for all the Earth--in what remains of Las Vegas. In short, it is a world where anything can and will happen. So take a deep dive into these loosely connected tales of the Dinosaur Apocalypse (each of which can be read individually or as a part of the greater saga): tales of wonder and terror, death and survival, blood and beauty. Do it today, before the apocalypse comes.

The Strange Season - The Flashback Cycle, #1

Into the Flashback: The Flashback/Dinosaur Apocalypse Trilogy, Book One - The Flashback Trilogy, #1

The ferryman turned to face her and she quickly looked away-as if an owl had suddenly focused on her in the dark. Now that they'd reached the trunk of the river, he had relaxed the intensity of his rowing to a more casual pace, and was allowing the current to do most the work. (She didn't dare risk activating the ring now!) Instead she looked at the floorboards, and after a few moments, remembered the book lying next to her. She reached toward it habitually-but froze when the raven cawed loudly and its red beam fell upon the back of her hand. A tense moment followed in which she looked from the ferryman to the raven then back again as her fingertips wavered over the golden cover. Then the ferryman motioned with his head, and the raven's light swung away and switched off. She picked up the book slowly and placed it on her lap.

Comes a Ferryman - The Ferryman Pentalogy, #1

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:NANTUCKET 2045Anastasios MihalopoulosMY DREAMHOUSE IS MADE OF MATCHSTICKSSabina MalikCALVING SEASONShana WaldmanCONNUBIAL BLISSJoseph HirschCOFFIN ROADWayne Kyle SpitzerTHE EXHIBITIONJames Austin McCormickWHAT IS GINGER?David BlitchFAMILY TREEArgus Z. BurtonTERRORIZERPaul LeeWHAT NOW?Matt Dennis

Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction No. 23 | December 2023 - Dark Horses Magazine, #23

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 BROTHERHOOD OF IDIOTSArthur DavisTHE ABYSS OF FEARNick YoungAN EVEN GREATER WOMANVictoria MaleEASY PREYTerry SanvilleTHAT THING WE KILLEDWayne Kyle SpitzerGATE K22John StadelmanJUST A LITTLE TASTESamantha Lee CurranJUST ADD WATERBill LinkNEW YOU NANCY DREWChloé SehrDAN THE TRUMPET MANMary Jo Rabe

Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction | No. 16 | May 2023 - Dark Horses Magazine, #16

I entered the building-which, despite its name, was just another steel barn-from the east, taking out my Maglite and turning it on. The chickens were there; sleeping (I presumed), although it was hard to tell with animals who routinely slept with one eye open (as they had often done on my grandfather's farm, an evolutionary adaptation, he'd explained, that allowed them to rest while also watching for predators). I suppose that's when I first noticed it, the fact that the chickens seemed bigger (I mean, bigger even than earlier in the day), more robust, and that their combs seemed more colorful-not brighter, per say, but deeper, redder, more fearsome, somehow. Yes, I decided, sweeping the Maglite's beam across them, stirring them not at all, they were definitely sleeping. I swiveled to inspect the other pen, the one on the other side of the walkway-and promptly froze. For there was a chicken-a great, golden rooster-staring back at me through the mesh. Just staring, his amber yet bloodshot eyes gleaming. And so startling and unexpected was this that I recoiled virtually immediately and gripped the Maglite tighter-ready, on pure instinct, to use it as a bludgeon-before turning and exiting the structure, wondering why I had been so compelled to go there in the first place and why too I had napped and dreamed of chicken shopping in the hours right before work; a dream in which I'd reached for a package of breasts and realized that what was pressing against the clear plastic was not chicken at all but a human face.

Peck

"Take the fatal shot, " said Horseshoe. He must have laid down his rifle because I remember him helping to steady my own. "Easy now, you'll own this forever-" I stared the thing in the eye and squeezed the trigger. It threw back its head, rising up. It gasped for breath, spitting more blood. It barked at the sky. Then it fell, head thumping against the deck. Its serpentine neck slumped. The rest of its blood spread over the boards and rolled around our boots and flowed between the planks. I was the first to step forward, looking down at the thing through drifting smoke. Its remaining eye seemed to look right back. I got down on my knees to look closer. The thing exhaled, causing the breathing holes at the top of its head, behind its eyes, to bubble. I waited for it to inhale, staring into its eye-I could see myself there as well as the others, could see the sky and the scattered clouds. The whole world seemed contained in that moist little ball. Then the eye rolled around white-it shrunk, drying, and the thing's neck constricted. And it died. Horseshoe slapped my back, massaged my neck. "How's it feel, little buddy?"But I didn't know what I felt. I could only stare at the eye, now empty.

Seven Tales of Blood and Beauty

Scenes and Interludes ... from an Improbable End | A new series in the Flashback/Dinosaur Apocalypse Universe I looked to see Nigel and Ewan entering the shop from the left, the latter seeming like an utterly new man-his hair no longer mussed; his clothes no longer a catastrophic mess. "Apologies, apologies, a thousand apologies, " he said, before pausing to admire Gargantua. "But a maiden voyage such as this requires a fresh change of clothes." He looked on a moment longer and then dropped to one knee-began ruffling through his over-packed bags. "Ah, yes, here it is. It's-I opened it with Nigel." He withdrew a corked bottle-which glinted darkly in the light from a high window. "Voila! One of eight bottles of Dom Perignon Rose champagne, Vintage 1959, served in Persepolis in 1971 by the then-Shaw of Iran." He looked at us with a face flushed with excitement, and we looked back. "To-to celebrate the 2500th anniversary of the founding of the Persian Empire ... by Cyrus the Great." Disappointment stole over his face like a shadow. "It's-it's to break over the bow, as it were. To christen Gargantua." Nobody said anything. "Yeah-well. Waste of liquor, anyway. Especially when I've got so much celebrating to do. I'll, ah-I'll just get the door. Over there." He moved up the ramp toward the garage door. That's when I thought of Lazaro's admonition, I don't know why: You heard Roman-carnotauruses, heading this way. "Wait, Ewan, " I said. But he was already there, triggering the great door with his fist, turning to look at us as it rattled upward, pulling the cork from the champagne. "Life is for the living, " he said, and toasted us with the bottle. "And this stuff ." He poured champagne into his mouth and down the sides, soaking his clean, white shirt, splattering the floor with foam. "This is for howl-" But then the door was open and they were there, the carnotauruses, and one closed its jaws about his scalp while another laid wide his abdomen (and another took up his legs) so that, howling, he was opened like a pizza being groped by eager hands. And then they themselves howled and piled over his body, and all we could do was to run-everyone save Nigel, who had his trimmer, which he started with a sputter-because our weapons were already in the rover.

A Survivor's Guide to the Dinosaur Apocalypse, Episode Two: "Howl" - A Survivor's Guide to the Dinosaur Apocalypse, #2

Roadkill ... A funny thing happened to Roger and Savanna Aldiss on the Interstate--they hit a dinosaur. But that's nothing compared to what awaits them down the road. For something is at work to reverse time itself, something which makes the clouds boil, glowing with strange lights, and ancient trees to appear out of nowhere. Something against which Roger, Savanna, a motorcycle gang, and a handful of others will make their final stand. Prehistory lives as ferocious dinosaurs run amok! Science-fiction and horror fans (and especially B-movie lovers) will enjoy this gory, action-packed thriller in the tradition of Roger Corman and George Romero.

Flashback

She was in the habitat-actually in it, not seated at her workstation on the other side of the glass. She was standing before Napoleon in her white lab coat, which, inexplicably, she unzipped and shirked from her shoulders, allowing it to slide to the marshy floor. She didn't know how she had gotten there or how time had rewound so that the habitat and its great glass window were still intact . she only knew she was there to take the experiment to the next level. And as Napoleon looked down at her with eyes that had become strangely human, she knew that he knew why she was there as well .And then she was awake as fast as she'd gone out, and she was standing, slowly, amongst the trees again . wondering why she would dream such a thing. And wondering, too, about the hidden obsessions each and every human being might harbor in the darkest recesses of their subconscious. And then she scanned the trees, realizing, suddenly, that they were swaying-even though there was no wind-and saw Napoleon glaring back at her.

Livres