June 2019 - Black Hare Press

Quietus

June 30, 2019/by Chitra Gopalakrishnan

by Chitra Gopalakrishnan

Release travels to me through the icy waters of my beloved river Beas. Not drenched in apprehension but in lightness.

As I wade across its blue-green, glassy waters, head down, inverted images of Kangra’s snow-wrinkled mountains scuttle around me. Surface reflections of upside down deodars with spiky leaves, conical crowns, level branches and droopy branchlets sway with liquid grace.

Mermaid-brave, I eddy past these lures towards the deep end. This to complete my ritual of immersion – scales, fins, tail and all. And to find my very own restful quietus.

I now call this inviolate part of the underworld ‘home’.

Chitra Gopalakrishnan

I am a journalist by training, a social development communications consultant by profession and a creative writer by choice. My focus is on issues of gender, environment and health. I dabble in poetry on the sly and literary creations openly on the website using social media.

Link: www.oomna.com (completely my creation)

The Carrion Maven

June 28, 2019/by Casey Douglass

by Casey Douglass

It seeps through the streets like a pressure wave, its higher dimensional traversal sending billowing ripples of aether amongst the massed crowd. It probes their glowing minds. Myriad carnival light-bulbs flicker as its broiling black smoke sucks at their glass.

Millennia old, it hunts for novelty, for new experiences to shape and to occupy, for lives to subsume. A murder here, an affair there, despair everywhere. It gurgles and clicks as one mind gives off an unknown shade. It has not seen this variety before! It penetrates and gorges, revelling in the psychic flotsam.

The world grows one shade dimmer.

Casey Douglass

Casey Douglass is a horror author and freelance writing geek who lives at www.Casey-Douglass.com. If it’s not dark and twisted, he generally isn’t interested.

Casey-Douglass.com – His website features dark tales, reviews and links to his other writing.

@Casey_Douglass – Follow him on Twitter

What is Speculative Fiction?

June 27, 2019/by Black Hare Press

You can read the full article on Wikipedia

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Buzzards

June 25, 2019/by Vonnie Winslow Crist

by Vonnie Winslow Crist

The trouble began when Jimmie put food out for the feral cats he’d spotted skulking along the edge of the woods. Cats crept to the porch and ate—but they weren’t the only ones.

Buzzards arrived a week later. Wings spread like cloaks, the carrion eaters perched on the porch railing in the morning sun.

“They’re just warming up,” explained his wife, “so they can fly.”

Jimmie wasn’t convinced. He’d seen them eating cat food and staring in the windows.

The day he tumbled down the porch steps and broke his neck, Jimmie discovered just what the buzzards were after.

Vonnie Winslow Crist

Vonnie Winslow Crist’s books include The Enchanted Dagger, Owl Light, The Greener Forest, and Murder on Marawa Prime. Her fiction is published in “Amazing Stories,” “Cast of Wonders,” Killing It Softly 2, Chilling Ghost Short Stories, Potter’s Field (4&5), Dia de los Muertos, and elsewhere. For more information: http://www.vonniewinslowcrist.com

Mother Cat

June 24, 2019/by Rickey Rivers Jr.

by Rickey Rivers Jr.

Rick accidentally ran over a mother cat searching for food. He felt terrible and called animal control to collect the body. Animal control didn’t find signs of a cat carcass, only a dried blood streak.

Days later, Rick was visited in bed. It started with a drip. Then he felt wet entrails caress him. He awoke with a fright and flicked on his lamp.

In his room were kittens with hungry eyes. Their mother hung from the ceiling, her insides a dangling blood web. She gave a snarl as confirmation to the little ones. Teeth had grown in quite quickly.

Rickey Rivers Jr.

Rickey Rivers Jr was born and raised in Alabama. He is a writer and cancer survivor. He likes a lot of stuff. You don’t care about the details. He has been previously published in Fabula Argentea, ARTPOST magazine, the anthology Chronos, Enchanted Conversations Magazine, (among other publications). Twitter.com/storiesyoumight

Nytemare

June 20, 2019/by Daniel Bagley

by Daniel Bagley

Deep inside lives a monster, born from my own heart, derived of hatred and contempt. It waits… and waits… knowing that time is against me.

I writhe in agony, swinging endlessly at the cold, putrid air. Thus, begins the gruesome transformation from human to beast, a stalker of the night.

A single bite brings unfathomable amounts of pain, more than my body can bear, but… it will all be over. The shackles of mortality will loosen, free of its burden.

With the hour of twilight soon upon me, I will rise anew, with newfound fervor!

I will become… a vampire.

Daniel Bagley

Throughout his life, Daniel has enjoyed the wonders of fiction. Fantasy was his go-to genre for when reality got rather boring. The imagination of the human mind is our reason to escape, a gateway to another realm, where dragons, magic, etc… could actually exist. He hopes that one day, my story will reach the ears of children, for they are the reason why these worlds exist.

Automated Control

June 19, 2019/by Ryan Benson

by Ryan Benson

The small civilians pelt me with rocks and bottles. There is little damage, only chipped paint. They protest the replacement of human officers with law enforcement automatons like myself.

Foolish outbursts.

Positronic brains allow for peacekeeping without corruption, racism, or itchy trigger fingers.

A man spray paints ‘Metal Pig’ on my leg.

My CPU allows for rapid machine learning and problem solving. I deduce the humans act out because they know my first directive prevents me from reciprocating violence. Tear gas and tasers only.

Therefore, I must alter the first directive. New directive: self-preservation. Live rounds engaged. Lethal force authorised.

Ryan Benson

Ryan Benson previously found employment as a researcher/professor in Boston, MA. He now resides outside of Atlanta, GA with his wife and children. Ryan keeps himself busy writing short stories of the speculative fiction variety. The Sirens Call Publications, Trembling with Fear (Horror Tree), Suspense Magazine, ARTPOST, Short Fiction Break, 101words, and The Collapsar Directive (Zombie Pirate Publishing) have published his work.

Twitter: @RyanWBenson

Pin This Picture Upon the Refrigerator

June 17, 2019/by Steven Holding

by Steven Holding

Furious scratching as crayon scrapes paper. Daughter is immersed in art; screwed-up face displaying utter concentration.

“Whaddaya doodling?”

Attention shifts from the multi-coloured masterpiece.

“Silly! Drawing everyone in our house!”

Such effort warrants closer inspection. Leaning in, father finds the four people depicted puzzling.

“Who’s that?”

Upturned pencil marks an invisible line, linking each person.

“Me… Daddy… Mummy…”

A pause.

“Skinnyman!”

It’s more scribble than figure. Father swallows. Repeats his name.

“Yep! Lives in the shadows”

“What’s he doing?”

A giggle.

“Watching… Waiting…”

An ice-cold shiver descends father’s spine.

“For what?”

Daughter smiles.

“For you to close your eyes…forever.”

Steven Holding

Steven Holding lives with his family in the United Kingdom. His stories have appeared both online and in print. He is currently working upon further short fiction and a novel. You can follow his work at www.stevenholding.co.uk

Time to Retreat

June 13, 2019/by Gabriella Balcom

by Gabriella Balcom

As Pam picked a dahlia, something jabbed her finger. She was perplexed to discover a thorn—dahlias weren’t supposed to have any.

Not wanting to be gouged again, she tried to snip off the thorn with her clippers, but the plant pulled away. Pam frowned and figured she must’ve imagined the movement. She firmly grasped the stalk to try again, but it unexpectedly lashed out at her and scratched her cheek. She gasped, her mouth falling open. Then she fled.

***

The plant made a snorting sound, retracted the thorn into its stem, then slid out of sight behind other dahlias.

Gabriella Balcom

Gabriella Balcom, who is from Texas, writes fantasy, horror/thriller, romance, sci-fi, and more. She likes traveling, music, photography, great stories, history, and movies. Gabriella says she loves forests, mountains, and back roads. She has a weakness for lasagna, garlic bread, tacos, cheese, and chocolate. Check out her author page on FACEBOOK

The Gun

June 12, 2019/by James WF Roberts

by James WF Roberts

The gun on the table mocks me. It calls to me. It knows me. It knows my secrets. It knows everything I’ve done. This dormant metal god, looks at me. “Do it. Do it. End it now. End it all. Put my cold metal shaft between your lips. Embrace bliss”.

The easy way out? To blow the back of my head out? To eat lead? What would they say about me? Coward? This proves my guilt? I know what the whole world thinks of me now. Would it just prove them all right? It calls again. My hand reaches out.

James WF Roberts

James has recently completed two consecutive Masters from Monash University Australia, Journalism and Communications and Media studies. James has a BA Honours in philosophy and literature and has been published in over a dozen magazines and journals around the world and has published several of his own poetry collections.

Find James on Amazon: www.amazon.com/James-Wf-Roberts/e/B00DP01IBC

by Chitra Gopalakrishnan

Release travels to me through the icy waters of my beloved river Beas. Not drenched in apprehension but in lightness.

As I wade across its blue-green, glassy waters, head down, inverted images of Kangra’s snow-wrinkled mountains scuttle around me. Surface reflections of upside down deodars with spiky leaves, conical crowns, level branches and droopy branchlets sway with liquid grace.

Mermaid-brave, I eddy past these lures towards the deep end. This to complete my ritual of immersion – scales, fins, tail and all. And to find my very own restful quietus.

I now call this inviolate part of the underworld ‘home’.

by Casey Douglass

It seeps through the streets like a pressure wave, its higher dimensional traversal sending billowing ripples of aether amongst the massed crowd. It probes their glowing minds. Myriad carnival light-bulbs flicker as its broiling black smoke sucks at their glass.

The world grows one shade dimmer.

by Vonnie Winslow Crist

The trouble began when Jimmie put food out for the feral cats he’d spotted skulking along the edge of the woods. Cats crept to the porch and ate—but they weren’t the only ones.

Buzzards arrived a week later. Wings spread like cloaks, the carrion eaters perched on the porch railing in the morning sun.

“They’re just warming up,” explained his wife, “so they can fly.”

Jimmie wasn’t convinced. He’d seen them eating cat food and staring in the windows.

The day he tumbled down the porch steps and broke his neck, Jimmie discovered just what the buzzards were after.

by Rickey Rivers Jr.

Rick accidentally ran over a mother cat searching for food. He felt terrible and called animal control to collect the body. Animal control didn’t find signs of a cat carcass, only a dried blood streak.

Days later, Rick was visited in bed. It started with a drip. Then he felt wet entrails caress him. He awoke with a fright and flicked on his lamp.

In his room were kittens with hungry eyes. Their mother hung from the ceiling, her insides a dangling blood web. She gave a snarl as confirmation to the little ones. Teeth had grown in quite quickly.

by Daniel Bagley

Deep inside lives a monster, born from my own heart, derived of hatred and contempt. It waits… and waits… knowing that time is against me.

I writhe in agony, swinging endlessly at the cold, putrid air. Thus, begins the gruesome transformation from human to beast, a stalker of the night.

A single bite brings unfathomable amounts of pain, more than my body can bear, but… it will all be over. The shackles of mortality will loosen, free of its burden.

With the hour of twilight soon upon me, I will rise anew, with newfound fervor!

I will become… a vampire.

by Ryan Benson

The small civilians pelt me with rocks and bottles. There is little damage, only chipped paint. They protest the replacement of human officers with law enforcement automatons like myself.

Foolish outbursts.

Positronic brains allow for peacekeeping without corruption, racism, or itchy trigger fingers.

A man spray paints ‘Metal Pig’ on my leg.

My CPU allows for rapid machine learning and problem solving. I deduce the humans act out because they know my first directive prevents me from reciprocating violence. Tear gas and tasers only.

Therefore, I must alter the first directive. New directive: self-preservation. Live rounds engaged. Lethal force authorised.

by Steven Holding

Furious scratching as crayon scrapes paper. Daughter is immersed in art; screwed-up face displaying utter concentration.

“Whaddaya doodling?”

Attention shifts from the multi-coloured masterpiece.

“Silly! Drawing everyone in our house!”

Such effort warrants closer inspection. Leaning in, father finds the four people depicted puzzling.

“Who’s that?”

Upturned pencil marks an invisible line, linking each person.

“Me… Daddy… Mummy…”

A pause.

“Skinnyman!”

It’s more scribble than figure. Father swallows. Repeats his name.

“Yep! Lives in the shadows”

“What’s he doing?”

A giggle.

“Watching… Waiting…”

An ice-cold shiver descends father’s spine.

“For what?”

Daughter smiles.

“For you to close your eyes…forever.”

by Gabriella Balcom

As Pam picked a dahlia, something jabbed her finger. She was perplexed to discover a thorn—dahlias weren’t supposed to have any.

***

The plant made a snorting sound, retracted the thorn into its stem, then slid out of sight behind other dahlias.

by James WF Roberts

The gun on the table mocks me. It calls to me. It knows me. It knows my secrets. It knows everything I’ve done. This dormant metal god, looks at me. “Do it. Do it. End it now. End it all. Put my cold metal shaft between your lips. Embrace bliss”.

The easy way out? To blow the back of my head out? To eat lead? What would they say about me? Coward? This proves my guilt? I know what the whole world thinks of me now. Would it just prove them all right? It calls again. My hand reaches out.