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+ TEETHRobert Nazar ArjoyanDACOIT, SON OF A NOBLERonit J. ERASURE (GOING NUCLEAR)Sylvia WoodhamLAST RIDE ON THE NIGHT TRAINAnthony FergusonDEATH GRADERWayne Kyle SpitzerNECROPOLISJohn K. PeckTHE AIR, BUT WITH HANDSJake WilliamsMYGALOMORPHAEClay WatersTHE DROWNING POOLVonnie Winslow CristWOUNDS ARE LIPS WAITING TO BE KISSEDEric Nash

Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction No. 22 | November 2023 - Dark Horses Magazine, #22

There was a single, sharp tap of the drums followed by a rapid succession of beats as the crushed velvet curtains spread and the audience gasped: for Tran had taken her position in the box and was even now being secured as Williams struck a gunfighter pose and his hand hovered next to his weapon."Ladies and gentlemen, I think it goes without saying, " said the announcer over the speaker system, "Do not try this at home."Williams relaxed his entire body even as his mind cycled through the calculations-altitude, the breeze, humidity, temperature, the curvature of the earth, the spinning of the earth . It was, like music, a largely mathematical proposition; a cold equation he'd had a gift for ever since he could remember, ever since he was a boy with a Daisy BB gun in the backyard of their southern California home. He focused on the knife blade as the balloons to each side of it warbled in the breeze. It was a funny thing, sharpshooting, so utterly unlike music, in that each time he did it he felt like he was doing it for the first time, felt like he was starting over from scratch. With music his fingers just automatically found the frets, just instantly knew where to begin and where to end; he never felt as though he were lost in a vortex of potentialities, never doubted his ability to perform. But sharpshooting was a different beast altogether. With sharpshooting he had to call on something outside of himself as well as from within-something which was not his to control. Something which either kissed him with its ghostly lips or turned away with perfect indifference-like love itself, he supposed. Or God. And then the drum taps stopped and he was alone with the breeze, and it was time to make the intuitive leap which would set the bullet in motion. And as he breathed out and drew his revolver and squeezed its trigger softer than he would a daisy, he knew, even before the crack! and the ka-chink! and the pop of the balloons, that the projectile had found its target. That it had found the slim blade and split like an atom-becoming two loaves rather than one-two soft but lethal slugs, which had spread like shrapnel in the Fresno heat and ruptured the red balloons-releasing their air in a vacuum-like rush and causing the audience to gasp and to cheer. And then his wife was there, having loosed her mock bonds and scrambled out of the tall wooden box (with its crushed velvet curtains and bulletproof glass), and she'd bowed to the audience before embracing him like the wind, and he had kissed her as he always did after completing their final act-when air raid sirens sounded and he looked at the sky, which had darkened with a storm front as fast-moving as it was inexplicable ...

The Magnificent Bastards: 3 Realms ... 3 Unlikely Champions

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

How did it come to this, Witch Doctor? This war between Doctor and witch, man and woman, you and I?The voice again, slightly louder this time, but still little more than a whisper, still difficult to hear through all the noise and screaming, as well as his own muffled breathing. He willed it away as he approached the first door and triggered his musket, which spat its ball and orange fire, punching out the knob and igniting the wood like dry tinder, causing the occupant of the room to scream so that it seemed the door itself screamed, blackening and shedding its paint which peeled away like rinds of burnt skin. He kicked it open and it fell with a crash, but had hardly levelled his pistol when the witch in the middle of the room launched herself against the ceiling-which she laid upon as though the world itself had flipped upside down-and, opening her mouth wide, vomited a stream of black liquid-which splattered against the floor as he dropped and rolled, tank clanking. The spot hissed as the bile melted through it and he hastened to warn any Witch Doctor below by shouting, "Black bile!"-even as he completed his roll and torched the witch while still on the floor. She danced wildly against the cracked plaster of the ceiling and a flailing hand smashed out the overhead light, yet still she did not fall, and he squeezed the trigger again. At last she dropped to the floor, arms and legs whipping about in a frenzy, then rolled in an effort to extinguish the flames and fell screeching into the flat below.

The Complete Witch-Doctor | The Collected Stories

As for Jasper, he had proven to be an erudite and charming host in spite of his great age, and had regaled her with tales from before the Pogrom and before what men called the Betrayal throughout dinner, until music was heard outside and they looked out the cracked window to see a black War Wagon zoom past with its red lights flashing and its belly (presumably) full of Witch Doctors, after which a silence settled over the room and his tone became more somber. "You want to know what happened . how women became witches and men became Witch Doctors. And how the sexes became so estranged that they would kill each other on sight rather than suffer another Betrayal or Pogrom. Don't you?"She nodded slowly. He dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin and sat back. "Well, I told you how things were, how men and women were. That there weren't any Witch Doctors except the kind you saw on TV, and there weren't-" He paused, noticing how they both looked confused. "TV-television-the boob tube, squawk box, the glass teat. Nevermind. It's not important. The thing is, men and women liked each other. Sure, they got to squabbling once in a while-hell, some might say that was half the fun of it. But they didn't fear and mistrust each other to the extent that, that-okay, well, some did-they'd kill each other. The point I'm trying to make is: they were bumper cars that enjoyed . bumping."Satyena and Jeremiah looked at each other."They danced, " said Jasper. "And when they danced it was something to see. But over time that dance began to sour, mainly because, outside the dance hall, only one side seemed to have all the power. Now, whether that was true or not depends on your point of view, but having read all about it and lived through some of it, I'd say the case could be made. And if you're wondering, " He looked at Satyena. "It was your ancestors that felt they didn't have any power. So, steps were taken to even the balance, just as they were with my own ancestors, and I think most would say that those steps were successful."Again there was the sound of music, and again a War Wagon blew past with its lights flashing."The problem with human nature is, it doesn't know when to stop. Eventually, every apparatus designed to right a wrong just becomes a new one-it has to, you see, because once created, its focus becomes its own survival. That's when the ideologues come-like saviors, some would say, while others would say like vampires-who feed off everyone's fear, stoking it and fanning the flames. Our Chairman Kill-sin is a man like that. Perhaps you've a counterpart among the witches ."Satyena nodded.

The Man/Woman War: A Dystopian Science-fiction Novel

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

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 "Mesozoic Knights": I unsheathed Blood Zephyr and gave her a heft-relishing the touch and feel of her (even if it was steel on steel); appreciating her weight and balance. "No, Black Duncan. It is not possible. The Quest must not be surrendered-not for you or for anyone. You know that." "And again, I ask: Why? Why, when everything a man could possibly want exists right here, now, and in such great plentitude? Bah. This shard and purity nonsense . it's just that-nonsense. Why pursue it?" I watched as Mortigen drew his own blade and paused to admire it, as I had done. "What would you prefer?" I snapped. "To live as prisoners? To wither away in this very cell but for the chance at some sexual gratification?" Black Duncan guffawed. "They're not going to keep us here. Eve told me herself. It's only until they get to know us. Regardless, I think I should tell you, that, that ." He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, as though having made up his mind at last. "That I'm staying. That, indeed, I did lay with my progen-my progen-" "Your progenitrix, " I said, curtly. "His hooker, he means, " quipped Mortigen. Black Duncan shot him a glance-one I wouldn't want directed at me. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. No; she was skilled in the art of love, it's true-but she was no prostitute. None of them are. What happened between us was genuine. It was real." He looked at me almost pleadingly. "Don't you see, Galaren, it was real. It wasn't like Ambergard-or Craxis-or the way we talk-or any of this other faux bullshit we've immersed ourselves in. No. This was nature, this was truth-real nature, not some phantasmagoria dreamed up by-by Them, " He nodded toward the ceiling and the sky. "Like the bees we saw coming in. They are trying to build something here, Galaren; something based on reality, not fantasy. Something authentic. And I'm not simply going to walk away from that. I mean, surely you can understand-" "What I understand is that we're getting out of here, " I said. "And that the test of virtue will be met. And what I suggest just now is that you-" "Your test of virtue, Galaren. Your test. I'm not leaving. I'll help you escape, but I'm not going to-" "Shh, " said Mortigen. "Someone's coming."

The Lost Country, Episode Five: "Mesozoic Knights" - The Lost Country, #5

As it never had before the Flashback, the supermarket slept, mostly. Although its exterior was covered with creeper vines and mossy growths, its interior remained remarkably unchanged-even its power continued to hum. Still, the long lights that hung suspended over its aisles had largely gone dead; and of those that remained live, many had begun to flicker and fail. No humans walked the once-polished floors of the Ozark Food and Drug Supercenter, nor did they crowd the expansive front lot where they had once competed-sometimes violently-for parking space. And yet, from the markings on the signboards and multitudes of packages to the Christmas music drifting like fog up and down the aisles, their presence remained.

Flashback Dawn

The final Flashback begins ... It's all led to this. All the characters and situations of the Flashback/Dinosaur Apocalypse come together in a final trilogy of tales that will close out and define the saga. Join Ank and Williams, the crew of Gargantua, the kids from Thunder Road, and so many others as they heed the call to adventure one last time and face the very architects of the Flashback!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, 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. From This Savage and Beautiful Night:He looked at the sky; at the Flashback Borealis-now diminished by the sun-and the drifting lights (which were of a color no one had ever seen). "Because the truth is, I have been closer to their dark materials than anyone-anyone here in Barley, that's for sure. And I am telling you: there was something in their voices this time that wasn't there before, something, I think, that they've never experienced. And that's fear."At which the amphitheater fell ghostly silent, at least for a moment."Well, fear of what, exactly?" called a man with a stump for a hand (his name was Roger), at last. "They're sure as hell not afraid of us."Francis just shook his head. "I don't know. Fear of whatever's at the center of that labyrinth; which is why they're gathering on it. Maybe even the fear that it will somehow affect their precious Flashback ...""Wait a minute, wait a minute, " blurted someone-some punk kid, I believe his name was Lonny. "So you're saying there's two conflicting forces-sort of like a football game-one of which is responsible for the Flashback, while the other is even now beckoning to us?" He laughed and slapped his hat against his hip. "Well, hell, man, sign me up with the Beckoner! Let's do this!"Laughter; laughter and riotous applause-which devolved into chaos-as Bella Ray threw up her arms and someone tossed torn paper (like confetti) and something parted the crowd like a float, like a tank. Something that turned out to be an armored dinosaur (an ankylosaurus) with a man walking beside it, a duo I knew to be the great Ank and Williams themselves-veterans of the Dinosaur War and the Bearers of the Hammer. The Legends of the North."That's just precisely what he's saying, " shouted Williams assuredly, authoritatively. "And he's exactly right to do so-because that's the situation." He looked at Francis, who brought him the cordless microphone. "And it's high time we accepted it; and started drawing up our plans. Because friends-fellow survivors, veterans of the Big One and all those who have come here because they heard Radio Free Montana, it's all come down to this."

Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction No. 22 | November 2023 - Dark Horses Magazine, #22

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