She supposed it was what they-or at least Sting of The Police-would have called synchronicity: that twangy guitar and soft-pedaled keyboard emanating so clearly from the RV's speakers as she ascended the vehicle's aluminum ladder. All she knew was that the song matched her mood perfectly, absurdly, as Karen Carpenter sang, Such a feeling's comin' over me / There is wonder in most everything I see .She gained the RV's roof and looked around: at the motor homes being corralled in the parking lot of Bluebeard's Cove, at the velociraptors gathered like spectators outside the fence, at the brontosaurus mulling its cypress leaves nearby and the pterodactyls circling in the blood-red sky and the volcano spewing lava not thirty miles away. Not a cloud in the sky / Got the sun in my eyes / And I / Won't be surprised if it's a dream .

Flashback Dawn (A Serialized Novel), Part 4: "Charlotte" - Flashback Dawn: A Serialized Novel, #4

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

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

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 editor Robert Weller for a curated tour of nine writers who always give as good as they get. From hard science-fiction (James C. Glass' Singularity for Hire) to dark and brutal prehistoric apocalypses (Wayne Kyle Spitzer's A Survivor's Guide to the Dinosaur Apocalypse), from Lovecraftian horror (Bill Link's Torchlight Parade) to zombies and horror comedy (Andy Kumpon's Seeds of the Dead); from farcical romps near foggy moors (Ron Ford's Dr. Jekyll in Love) to lyric and whimsical interludes (M. Kari Barr's A Father's Legacy). Indeed, even from absurd capers (Kevin M. Penelerick's Brother Bob) to tales of unlikely compassion (Erik Schubach's Scythe), you'll be sure to find it here. So grab a seat before the starting gun fires, poor yourself a glass of strange wine, and get ready for the running of the dark horses .

Dark Horses: Nine Writers of the Fantastical You've Probably Never Read ... but Should

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. 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.* * *I looked at the nearest mount, a triceratops head with a broken horn (and a frightful visage), wondering what the circumstances of its death had been. Had it been charging-with the Flashback in its eyes, perhaps-and thus aware that it had an opponent? Or had it been unaware, just mulling its soft grasses, until the bullet entered its brain? "No, " I said, finally, turning my attention back to him. "Can't exactly say as I am. It-it's never seemed like a fair contest to me." I jerked my leg against the chain-twice-to make a point. "Does it to you?" "Pshaw, " he protested. "You speak as if we're enemies. As though this were some contest between you and I, personally. On the contrary, Mr. Hayes. It's a collaboration." I'm afraid I just stared at him. At last I said: "Okay-why not. I'll bite. What are you talking about?" "I am talking, Mr. Hayes ." He stood and began pacing the length of the table. "-about legend. About myth and memory-and the securing of one's place in the natural order of things." He withdrew something from his housecoat as he walked-a pipe; but didn't light it. "Posterity is what I'm talking about. A place at the table of the gods. That, and endings. Inevitabilities." He paused and struck a match. "One last and penultimate hunt." He lit the pipe and waved out the match, then turned, slowly, regarding me through a cloud of smoke. "Atatilla, is what I'm talking about. Queen of the Mammoths. The, ah, Leviathan of the Steppes, as they say. I intend to kill her. And you, my lost and wayward friend, are going to help me. By acting as my driver."

A Survivor's Guide to the Dinosaur Apocalypse, Episode Eight: "The Elephant Slayer" - A Survivor's Guide to the Dinosaur Apocalypse, #8

On a clear day you could see all of the Anchor Rock valley from here; not so tonight. Tonight it was but a vast pool of nearly impenetrable fog, beneath which Sheila could just make out the glowing, yellow lights of Anchor Rock proper. And she supposed she was grateful-so very, very grateful-for that much. For as long as the power was on and men such as Whitman were still doing their jobs, there was hope. Hope that the world might somehow pass through this day turned to night and this inexplicable time storm, this apocalypse no one saw coming and no one could have imagined. It was supposed to be zombies, she thought insanely-even as Whitman's brake lights winked on suddenly and Erik shouted, "Mom, look out!"She focused forward in time to see the Sheriff's car looming in the windshield, and hit the brake pedal, causing the Toyota to lurch into a tailspin even as it careened toward Whitman's bumper- which they missed, barely-before sliding into a tree with a resounding crash. And then she was craning her neck to see what had caused him to stop so abruptly, and saw, by the strobing lights of his red and blues (which he had turned on in order to guide them better), what could only be considered a Tyrannosaurus rex. It had crashed through Whitman's driver's side window with its snout and pulled him free-shaking him like a ragdoll, smashing him against the door-after which they could only watch in horror as it gnawed off his head . which bounced twice across the road and went rolling down the hill, whipping blood as it went. And then the thing was loping toward them, and Sheila had pushed in the clutch and jammed it into first-too late, for the beast pounced upon them instantly, causing the roof to sink beneath its massive weight. She screamed as its claws raked through the thin steel of the car's shell, barely missing her head, then put it in reverse and floored the gas pedal, winding the Toyota's engine as high as it would go, before finally popping the clutch.

Dinosaur Rampage

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 Big Empty - The Flashback Cycle, #3

The hologram faded away and a silence fell over the glade as Dravidian reseated himself upon the rock. Sthulhu remained respectfully silent. In his mind's eye Dravidian saw Pepperlung on the deck of their great dragger, The Vorpal Gladio, saw him glance over his shoulder at the prefect as his tone became grave: "Beware, Dravidian. The bride is just sightseeing but Asmodeus is here for you. You are the only ferryman up for elevation this year. Watch yourself. There will be a test, surely."The ground trembled suddenly and the remnants of the cage rattled as a minor Ursaquake shook the glade, and the sun orb went from gold to orange. A horse whinnied in the distance and Dravidian looked out across Parvus' homestead to see a great steed leap up in its corral. The slightest push against the dilapidated boards would have freed it-but the creature either did not know or did not care. The horse, however mighty, knew its place. It knew in its primitive yet tamed wiring what Dravidian, in his advanced and now liberated own, did not: that nothing lay beyond its cage that did not already exist in abundance within.

Black Hole, White Fountain - The Ferryman Pentalogy, #4

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.

Flashback Dawn (A Serialized Novel), Part 4: "Charlotte" - Flashback Dawn: A Serialized Novel, #4

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