Foreword by Pamela Jeffs

Horror and the unknown or the strange are always closely connected…

— H.P. Lovecraft, Notes on Writing Weird Fiction.

The best horror stories are relatable—the ones that force us to face what we fear most and teach us how to survive. In writing such stories, authors pour out their nightmares, hoping that bonds are forged, and that solidarity can be found in the shared dread of facing monstrous things. Horror is fleeing from carnivorous tumbleweeds. It is the feeling of being watched by sinister mushrooms while huddling close to a campfire, praying that you are hunter and not the prey. Horror can be found anywhere and in anything, and it is ultimately about connection.

It has been my privilege to read Pauline Yates’s debut collection, The Connections We Keep. This body of work is an exploration of what it means to connect. Pauline investigates familial links, physical ties, and relationships between people and their own emotions. Her stories convey the desperation and the fear that such associations can create.

Her story, “The Ghost of Christmas Past,” presents a mother desperate to teach her child the dreadful truth about Santa. In “The Happiness Man,” grief and darkness are held close, severing all connection to happiness, love, and light. And “Renascent” offers a more literal exploration of the bond between mind and flesh—a tale deftly delivered to a culmination that lingers. These examples represent just a few of the themes touched on.

This collection is a triumph and a fitting showcase of Pauline’s brilliant prose. Her words, her landscapes, and the emotions she conveys create a dark mirror—we certainly find something of ourselves in her stories.

I invite you to huddle close to your fires, lean in and tip the pages of this book so they catch the light. Things may lurk at your back, and the shadows will hide monstrous things, but here, in the circle formed by this collection of tales, you are not alone. You are connected.

Let’s talk, you and I. Let’s talk about fear.

— Stephen King, Night Shift