Sunday, 31 October 2010

Strange photo

This evening hubby wanted to take some photos of me for a drawing he's planning. Now we don't have a posh David Barber camera but it'll do.

The photo below - though a little blurred - freaked us out a bit - look at the backdrop - can you see the face? Like a child's drawing. It's not on any of the other pics. Also there's an orb (though I'm a right cynic over those - probably a speck of dust,)

Your thoughts? (Click on it to view full size).


Saturday, 30 October 2010

Season's Greetings

Waxwork automaton of Lily Childs, circa 1947
Hell, the veil is thin this year. It's no wonder with so much political shite going on worldwide. Mother Nature's fucked off with her world being (over)run by accountants and lawyers, with all the inabilities their imaginations are possessed of, and distinct lack of talent at understanding human nature and people's creative needs.

Tonight - in fact the next couple of weeks are - special. I don't do New Age; everything has its dark side, and so we need to embrace it. It's not evil, it's essential - it's balance.

Once upon a time a "very powerful healer" (her words) told me to stop wearing black, that I should invite the light in and wear white. Now - me and white don't like each other very much. I look like a patient in it and always spill food down it, and in turn it loves to make me look even wider than I already am (and that's pretty considerable). Any old way, said powerful healer insisted on doing a reading for me using Native American Totem Animal cards. The card that came up first was Crow "You wear black as a cloak. It is your power, black is your creative path. Black is your colour by nature." Yup. Powerful Healer changed the subject.

Happy, or rather a deeply reflective and ancestor-invoking Hallowe'en to all of you.

With love.

Friday, 29 October 2010

Lily's Friday Prediction

Stunning number of entries last week - great! Keep 'em coming. Wonderful to see new contributors - hope you'll be back this week.

Congratulations to winner Chris Allinotte with his feral beast Queen of Cats. Purrrrrfect.

Today's words for you are:

  • Fellowship
  • Rain Forest
  • Goat
Usual rules - 100 words max, please - flash fiction or poetry using all of the words above. Please add your entries in the Comments box below. You have all week to enter. Winner will be announced next Friday. Please tweet about your entry, using #fridayflash if possible.

And the race is on...

Thursday 4th November - 23:30 p.m. GMT. Friday Prediction now closed!
Winner will be announced just after midnight.

Prediction Winner

Whoa - a record eleven stories last week, including one double-entry. Fantastic quality - how hard was this to judge?

You all gave wonderful comments - which we all appreciate. A quick summary of all the entries then:

  • Michael Solender gave us an arse-pounding tragedy of human over-indulgence.
  • Joleen's commoner threatened an uprising, with little resistance from the King's servants
  • Ants in my Stnap was Chris Allinotte's first, fire-ant riddled offering, a cheeky play on words
  • Bill Owens provided a boyish banter about what to name a band moments before setting off to the contest
  • Chris Allinotte's second piece, the feral Queen of Cats poured like chocolate
  • Anthony Cowin tortured us with his murderous tale told from the perspective of a book
  • Antonia Woodville slammed us back into English history with Warwick's dangerous conniving.
  • My tale was of Mother Scarebones and her useless familiars. (You just can't get the staff these days.)
  • AidanF brought Grimm to the present day with his urban fairy tale
  • MRMacrum teased us with his Mayan mystery and nature's wrath
  • David Barber's Two Blokes were at it again a dialogue packed with misunderstandings and wit
  • SueH had the hunters becoming the hunted - as is only right IMHO.
Bloody excellent - the lot.

And the winner is... Chris Allinotte for his second entry Queen of Cats because it was so well written,  lapped at my senses and made me downright purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr........... Congratulations Chris - and well done everyone.

Wednesday, 27 October 2010

Dark New Things

The Witchcraft Museum in Boscastle, Cornwall has relaunched its website at Both the site and the museum itself are well worth a visit. I've been there several times, danced outside and sung in The Welly round the corner with the lovely museum staff.

They have a massive historical collection with many rare artefacts and books.  Very highly recommended.


New dark fiction magazine, erm 'Dark Fiction Magazine' launches on 31st October. It will be a collection of audio short stories.

Its press release says "This is a free service designed to promote genre short fiction to an audience of podcast and radio listeners. A cross between an audio book, an anthology and a podcast, Dark Fiction Magazine is designed to take the enjoyment of short genre fiction in a new and exciting direction..." Looking forward to this!

Monday, 25 October 2010

Hidden Beast by Lily Childs

Here's a shortie I posted over at Cafe Doom. Could be bigger... Mifkin's got history.

Hidden Beast

The Weeping Beech hung its boughs to the ground. Mifkin loved its tresses, watching them dance in storms as he lay hiding, waiting in the hollow of its trunk. It was the best of places, warm inside like mother’s womb.

Wind howled across the darkening grass as the day drew to a close. Mifkin clung to his prey; knowing its dying scent would tease the snouts of the arboretum’s nocturnal predators. He rubbed at his face, still bleeding and unhealed from the last encounter.

Mifkin sniffed the air. They were coming. He bent over the young man lying beside him, his feet and wrists bound together. Casually Mifkin placed one hand over the lad’s mouth, pinching his nostrils with the other. Beneath his hold the youth bucked and twisted, screaming a suffocated mewl. The eyes popped and bulged in the emaciated face.

“Won’t be long now mate,” Mifkin said. “Give in and it’ll all be over soon enough.”

Outside, leaves whirled in fury as the tempest grew stronger. Mifkin shuddered, soaking in the primal energy.

“Don’t you just love it?”

The man on the ground didn’t respond, dead already.

“Look at you. Isn’t this better than sleeping on the streets?”

Mifkin caressed the corpse’s hair. His fingers trailed through strands of grease, stopping to pick at scabs and lice. He nibbled at them, getting the taste.

“It’s so beautiful here at night; feels like we’re in a forest miles and miles from the rest of the world, but see...”

He pulled the body into his lap, facing it outwards. Its eyes stared, taking nothing in.

“See the smog from the city, that yellow haze?” Mifkin inclined his head to whisper in the man’s ear. “That’s how close you are to home.”

Drawing the lobe to his lips Mifkin began to chew, tasting the blood before it cooled and congealed. He snapped bones as he ate, throwing torn-off fingers to the gathering creatures outside.

The feast prepared, Mifkin dragged the broken body out onto the grass.

“Here you are, my friends. Let’s clean this up before morning.”

Sunday, 24 October 2010

Esoterica? Oh yes.

Original artwork by Laurence Ranger
Hubby Laurence, being an esoteric artist, has been a long-time follower of Robert Ansell - who is obviously immortal because he looks younger now than he did 30 years ago. Hell, that's alchemy for you. And he's still only twelve.

Ansell's extraordinary Fulgur Press produces exquisitely bound, limited edition books containing words from wondrous minds and artwork by, or inspired by Austin Osman Spare, Michael Bertiaux, Steffi Grant, Andrew Chumbley, Orryelle Defenestrate-Bascule and Barry William Hale, amongst others.

We came across news of Fulgur at the 2010 Esoteric Book Conference at Ouroboros Press' blog - The Serpent Bites Its Tail - and wished we could have gone along.

Laurence, a printmaker by desire, was particularly taken with an older post from March 2010 showing the print process for Tabula Lunarium. "Sniff it", he said. "I'm there."

Laurence's own artwork will be online soon.

Saturday, 23 October 2010

13 Days of Horror features Mark Anthony Crittenden

Red Skies Press founder and editor, Mark Anthony Crittenden graces the brilliant bloglight of Erin Cole's 13 Days of Horror today.

Mark's deliciously-told tale Fourteen Ounces of Vinegar is also a taster from the eagerly awaited horror anthology Their Dark Masters, which will be available in December on Amazon.


Friday, 22 October 2010

Lily's Friday Prediction

The moon draws full today, here in the south of England. Last night I watched her pendulous glory rise in the red sky. From now until mid-November the veil is at its very thinnest - and I for one can't wait to go exploring.

Well done to Sulci Collective for winning last week's challenge (see previous post). Today's words plucked from my battered encyclopaedic dictionary are:

  • Doom (honest!)
  • Throne
  • Intrusive
100 words max, please - flash fiction or poetry using all of the words above. You have all week to enter. Winner will be announced next Friday. Please tweet about your entry, using #fridayflash if possible.

Is it safe to invite you in...?

Prediction Winner

I've decided to announce the winner of last Friday's challenge on a short post before today's Friday Prediction starts.

Last week saw two newcomers Sulci Collective and AidanF who both gave us stunning little flashes, so thanks to them.

I, and other contributors commented fully at the time, so here is a summary:

  • Sulci Collective's torrent of words took us into the primal fire of destruction and rebirth.
  • Chris Allinotte's The Final Sitting playfully mixed art and demons - as is only right.
  • AidanF captured us with a magickal dark fairytale of blood and mirrors.
  • My piece Burning Shame saw a neglected toddler reaching for her smouldering baby-doll.
  • David Barber's Peace, At Last painted a haunting picture of a living portrait.
  • Joleen's The Victory Bonfire declared vengeance with execution by fire.
Excellent flash fiction, all. And whilst each and every piece evoked emotion and atmosphere the winner is Sulci Collective. Sulci's words had me bathing in primordial energy, raging fire feeding the salamander as man-made creation died all around. Congratulations Sulci!

Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Oh, The Mission Predicted It All

One of my fave old (true) Goth bands The Mission wrote a fantastic, vicious, hateful song Mercenary. It's full of invective, spitting anger and lots and lots of 'F' words (ooh!) It was written in 1990 - when I left the UK after Thatcher screwed the country and sent it to its knees.

After today's Spending Review in the UK this is the song I've been playing all evening. Indulge me and view it below if you fancy joining me in a rant. No proper vid I'm afraid but it helpfully provides the marvellous lyrics to sing along to. It so helps when chopping the veg...


Sunday, 17 October 2010

The Infanta Triptych

I am exquisitely pleased that a piece I've been working on for weeks The Infanta Triptych has been accepted into Red Skies Press' Their Dark Masters anthology. Editor Mark Anthony Crittenden asked for my piece Walls of Flesh a little while ago and I promised him something extra.

The story's about an ancient set of three conjoined paintings, the subjects of which are vicious, bloodthirsty and diabolical. And they like to play.

I'm very proud to be part of this antho. It has some great authors - Lee Hughes, Barry J. Northern, Mark himself, Erin Cole, Tyree Campbell, Gregory Miller, Melissa Farrar and others. It's going to be a tight fright and I can't wait to see it in print.

Thanks Mark for being such an encouraging and supportive editor.

Might post a teaser shortly before the book is published...

Friday, 15 October 2010

Pustula Peculiar joins Daily Bites of Flesh

So I'm watching some dark and dirty Kings of Leon vids and get an email from Jessy Marie Roberts, Pill Hill Press editor to say my Zombietta short story Pustula Peculiar has been accepted into Daily Bites of Flesh 2011. The track I'm listening to is the perfect theme tune.

Pustula Peculiar joins my earlier piece Spangles. It's always nice to double up.

There are loads of great authors in this 365 day anthology. Can't wait to get it.

Thanks Jessy!

Lily's Friday Prediction

Hmmmn, just five (excellent) entries last week. Let's get the word out there today!

To review, Chris Allinotte gave us a beautiful horror story; ghostly and divine. Joleen's atmospheric Walk-In tale made me shiver in my (thigh-length) boots. Sue Harding treated us to complacent urban murder - highly disturbing. David Barber's vampiric neck-fest in misty Montmartre sent a delicious frisson. My own eponymous blade-wielding, junkie, hooker, tarot reader - well - I'm sure she had a kind heart really.

My winner is... Joleen with 'The Tourist' because I liked the eerie twist and complete change in emotion from calm pleasure to fear as the story progressed. Congratulations Joleen!!

This weeks words are:
  • Absorbent
  • Portrait
  • Bonfire
Rules, as always. 100 words max flash fiction or poetry using all of the words above. Please post in the Comments box below. If you tweet, please tweet about your entry when it's in - #fridayflash. Thanks.

Do your worst (read 'best').

Wednesday, 13 October 2010

Grub Up

Just hawking up another oldie. Grub Up was first published on Thrillers Killers 'n' Chillers in May 2009. It's a tasty little thing I thought I might regurgitate just to share with you.

GRUB UP by Lily Childs

Vanessa was skeletal. I could barely get any meat off her bones so I just gnawed away at the stringy flesh. Sinews snapped back at my face; her bone marrow was measly to say the least. I sighed. I’d starve at this rate.

I sat back and surveyed the remains of my late cousin. I’d tried, so hard to turn her away when I found her at my front door.

‘Only passing by. Haven’t seen you for ages; thought I’d pop in’.

She was through the door before I could push her out. Apparently she didn’t know I have certain tastes. And that I’ve been particularly hungry lately.

I was still ravenous, despite my skinny-size meal, but I knew it was risky to go out hunting because I get careless going in for the kill. Yet thoughts of feeding made saliva drip in my mouth, washing my gums, plumping my tongue.

I hesitated, wanting to dare, needing to feast. No. I couldn’t do it; it was too dangerous. I’d have to go without. Dejected I slumped down onto the threadbare sofa and grazed on Vanessa’s innards. I jumped as the phone rang. Snatching it off its cradle I answered.

‘Who is it?’

‘Is she there?’

‘What?’ I didn’t recognise the voice.

‘It’s Ben, Vanessa’s boyfriend. I’m outside your building. Is she there?’ My heart smiled and I spoke to the pining lover.

‘Yes Ben. She’s here. She’s sitting in the corner. Come on up – we’ll wait for you.’

I hung up the phone, leaving it off the hook. Quickly I formed my cousin’s leftovers into a skeletal pyre, burying her long red hair in its centre; its scalp still attached. Returning to the window I lingered, watching fat boy make his way across the street. The juices were already stirring in my belly.

Sunday, 10 October 2010

Slap and Tickle

I watched her play with it; a cat slapping at a trapped mouse. Katie giggled. She looked up for approval. I hadn't seen anything yet to demonstrate a particular talent. My mouth turned down in disappointment, an ugly pout.

"Let it go and give me something else."

Katie shrugged. She wiped her eyeball free of grime and popped it back in its socket. I tossed her a pair of scissors; nodded at her feet. She blinked, not without difficulty.

"Big toe," I said.

She obliged.

Friday, 8 October 2010

A Faded Poem

This week National Poetry Day saw a swarm of writing by all ages and abilities. Great stuff.

Over at Writing Magazine and Writers' News, members-only online forum Talkback (blimey - what a mouthful!) the editors launched an impromptu poetry comp on the theme of 'home'. Mine didn't win but was in good company with entries from Lee Hughes and Anthony Cowin.

After announcing the (very worthy) winner, ed, Jonathan Tefler said "There were other great ones too though, and I must admit I nearly had to wipe away a tear at LilyC's (but I'm just a sentimental old fool really)." Aw, cheers Jonathan!

My poem The One Thing was inspired that very same day after walking past a nursery school with glorious roses in its garden, deep pink leaves layered like skirts on the blooms. As I passed, a curly-locked girl came out, scratching and digging at her scalp...


She’s a skinny ballerina,
dancing, desperate with thrall.
Today she’s here,
tomorrow, and the next,
there’s an absence as
she fails to grace
her classroom chair.

Eight years old.
Darling of the corner shop,
Mummy’s money.
Grown-up girl does it all,
sweeps the floor,
washes dishes,
cares without care.

Teacher spots the crawling hair,
lice the size
of planets in
Delilah’s fine red curls,
Appalled, she sends her home.
The letter
says it all.

Breaking down the family door
they find the truth,
how she’s survived
on pizza,
squeezy cheese.
The washing up’s all done,
ironing, left creased.

With Mummy dressed in rose-pink satin,
curled up in cold
arms Delilah scratches
at her scalp.
Mummy gone, the nits -
one thing
she couldn’t do herself.

Their Dark Masters Cover

Mark Anthony Crittenden's done a great job for the final cover of Red Skies Press' forthcoming Their Dark Masters.

This anthology promises to be something else. Authors include Gregory Miller, Barry J. Northern, Mark A. Crittenden, Paul Anderson, Rebecca L. Brown, Marissa Farrar, Erik Boman, Lee Hughes, Tyree Campbell and Lily Childs.

Can't wait.

Lily's Friday Prediction

So... gotta choose last week's winner, huh? OK (drum roll brbrbrbrbrbrbrbr dudun.) The winner is... me! No, not really. Hell, I've already spent the last five hours judging a fiction comp; but this is much harder because the genre is ma thang.

As always there were some great entries; Chris Allinotte's bloomin' spider - do you have to do that to me Chris? Great stuff! Joleen's slaughterhouse party - loved it. My London chav twat tale - mmmn, not sure. David Barber's brilliant two blokes - so simple, I couldn't do that in a million years. Sue Harding's ultimate delight - ale and libraries. Excellent! Col Bury dropped in with his Brummie fuckwit - splendid stuff.

Seriously... David Barber wins for making me laugh out loud. This week I want to recoil in horror. Your words are:

  • Anonymous
  • Moulin Rouge
  • Transparent

Usual rules, plus a couple of requests. 100 words max flash fiction or poetry using all of the words above. Please post in the Comments box below. If you tweet, please tweet about your entry when it's in. Chars.

Wednesday, 6 October 2010

Re-released - the very first Pan Book of Horror Stories. Win a copy!

Cover by permission of PanMacmillan
This month PanMacmillan marks the 50th Anniversary of the very first Pan Book of Horror Stories by re-releasing this wonderful collection of dark and disturbing stories. And I for one am very excited. I remember reading my second-hand copy over and over in the 70s and 80s until the book fell apart. Happy days.

The anthology, selected by Herbert van Thal simply has to return to my shelves (not being a Kindle babe yet) and is already on my wish list.

You can buy it direct from PanMacmillan, or from Amazon and other outlets.


If you're a UK resident why not try winning a copy? PanMacmillan is running a Hallow'een competition where all you have to do is answer a question, and write a tiebreaker sentence.

There are five copies up for grabs. Enter here.

Tuesday, 5 October 2010

Acceptance into Daily Bites of Flesh

Great to hear this morning from Pill Press' Editor Jessy Marie Roberts that my new piece 'Spangles' has been accepted into Daily Bites of Flesh 2011.

Pill Hill's own description of this great anthology says:

"Daily Bites of Flesh 2011 is an anthology of 365 flash fiction stories, each assigned a calendar day, offering horror readers an opportunity to enjoy one story per day - even with a hectic schedule. Pill Hill Press is actively seeking FLASH FICTION, 500 words or less (firm) about ZOMBIES, VAMPIRES, WEREWOLVES and other MAN-EATING/BLOODSUCKING CREATURES. Should have strong elements of HORROR."

The submission period is still open, but closes on 3rd November so if you have something for Daily Bites, visit Pill Hill for more info and sub. guidelines.

Monday, 4 October 2010

Dug an old one up - Slideshow

This mild little thing first appeared on the bleedin' marvellous Thrillers Killers 'n' Chillers over a year ago. I was reminded of it today after getting stuck in a queue behind a jolly hockey sticks old bat clad in moss-green and mustard-yellow faux-hunting plaid. She was haranguing a poor woman who'd inadvertently started a conversation while they waited.

"Don't believe in all this digital hoo-haa" she boasted, as loud as loud can be. "Bring back the old slideshows, that's what families love. Mine were quite the thing, you know!"

Click click.


‘So that was my trip to Windsor. Lovely gardens, aren’t they? Now, here’s my world falling apart. Look. See, you can just make out my husband’s feet sticking out from behind the sofa.

‘And look at this. That’s her. That’s the one he was doing it with. Even now, I really don’t understand what she had that I didn’t. Oh well. It doesn’t matter now, does it.

‘Oh, sorry. They’re a bit out of order. You’ll like this though. It’s him looking in his wardrobe – before it happened. Good job we had separate bedrooms. Just look at his face! It was hilarious. I’d filled the pockets of his best suit with prawns and cat food three days earlier, when he went off with her to Cardiff. Absolutely reeked. He’s not happy, is he!

‘This one, is… Let me see. Ah, it must be half-an-hour later because his blood’s all over the parquet floor. All over me too, for that matter. I slipped in it after smashing his skull against the wall.

‘Now where are we? Oh yes, back in the lounge. I remember I had to turn the camera off to drag him down the stairs. He wasn’t quite dead then. Just suffering.

‘So. This is me phoning the whore. This is him hanging onto my legs after he crawled across the carpet to try to stop me. This… Now this is the whore arriving at the front door, screaming at me, demanding to see him. What a sight she is.

‘Um. OK. OK. I know what this is – it’s me strangling her with the tie-back from the curtains. The timer on the camera was a bit dodgy and she wouldn’t keep still so it’s a bit blurred. You can’t quite see him, but he watched me do it. He was crying.

‘She had a good kick on her, I can say that for the woman. Nasty sharp nails too. Red they were. Scarlet. Hah! How appropriate!

‘Here we’ve got a few of him dying; I’ll just flick through those quickly. It only took a couple of days. I didn’t bother to feed him or give him anything to drink. Not much point really.

‘And… Here we are back at the first slide. You can’t see her in this one because I was sitting on her when I took the snap. But you remember, do you? He’s behind the sofa. I hid him there because he was in the way, putting me off while I tried to think about what to do with the pair of them.

‘Now wait. I thought I had another one. No, no. Of course. It was a photograph, not a slide. It must be here in the box somewhere. Yes, here it is. Take it, Sarah, would you? And pass it round. It’s me bricking them up in the cellar. I am rather good with my hands when needs must.

‘What? Yes Ella. Here. In the cellar underneath the vicarage.

‘That’s right Nathan. I used to live here.

‘Oh, come on, Daisy. Don’t cry. It was twenty years ago now. Water under the bridge. The church is better off without him. It already knew about the affair, I was told. So it was better all round that they’d "run off to Australia together".

‘What’s the matter? Are you worrying about what happened to me? Well, I couldn’t stay here, obviously. The church kindly let me have the cottage next door, and I’ve been there ever since. Reverend Charleston came here not long after. Lovely man, isn’t he? Shame he’s leaving us next week. I didn’t think he would do that to us. I’ve given so much of my life to him.

‘Oh my dears, it’s so sweet of you all to weep for me; but I’m fine, I’m completely fine.

‘Now, my little sillies. Off you pop. I’ve got the older ones coming along to Sunday School at eleven. They’re going to see the slideshow too. Jordan, you can stay and watch it again, if you like. Your brother Luke’s coming in; you can sit with him.

‘Get your coat, Joshua.

‘No. Hang on, wait. Ooh, children. I’ve just thought. I still have a key to the cellar. Would anyone like a tour?

Sunday, 3 October 2010

A couple of little ones

Every month on Writers News online forum 'Talkback' we run a One Word Challenge. The idea is to write a piece of flash fiction under 201 words or poetry max 40 lines to a particular theme. The winners of the prose and poetry decide on the following month's theme, and judge their peers' entries.

The standard of entries is always exceptionally high, making judging a challenge in its own right. In the last 18 months I've had the privilege of judging the prose once, and poetry three times; it's a tough job.

I didn't get shortlisted for either this month - the theme of 'Autumn' was possibly a little twee for me, and I always feel somewhat obliged to behave myself on Talkback (very difficult) - but I'm posting my submissions here anyway.

Before I do, if anyone is looking for support as a new or lonely writer - give free, members only Talkback a try. They're a great bunch with a mixture of experience - and opinions.


Don’t come at me half-baked, spitting invective and threatening to usurp. You will not win the game. 

Call that a gang? Spindly and spineless more like. I’ll show you what it means to take the lead, to take charge. We own this place and don’t you forget it. Strut in here giving it the big ‘I am’ - trust me, we’ll string you up.

Come on then. Give it your all. What’s that? You reckon you can smash me to the ground? Don’t make me laugh. I’m big and I’m tough and I’m poison through and through. I’ll crack your skull and chuck you to the pigs. Don’t think you can escape – I can chase you round the world, and back again.

I’m wired on single malt but I’m feeling dry... I need me some action. So listen hard and listen good. You’re a soft-arsed worthless chestnut, soft in the middle, floating on water.

I’m ready when you are - take me to your playground. 
I am King Conker. 
Prepare to die.

172 words [excluding title]


I am a drum.
I drum in Mabon.
I sing of the rose hips and apples and chestnuts,
The blackberries I’ve won.

I am the fire.
I rage with desire.
I colour the leaves and the skies and the conkers,
The fights I have won.

I am laid bare.
I run with the hare.
I slumber in ancient land, toiled by hand, waiting
For rewards I’ve won.

I am old age.
I defy the rage.
I die with a dignity, bold eccentricity,
Disputes I’ve won.

I am a drum.
I drum in Mabon.
I sing of the Equinox, nightly fucks, retired
From lovers I’ve won.

I am a drum.
I drum in Mabon.
I thank the ancestors, prepare the passages.

Now we are one.


Saturday, 2 October 2010

Col Bury - Extraordinary Crime Writer and Seriously Nice Bloke

Col Bury
For anyone who isn't aware, Thrillers Killers 'n' Chillers co-editor Col Bury now has hot-stuff NY Literary Agent Nat Sobel pimping his fabulata fiction.

The man with his ear to the wire, Paul D Brazill interviews Mr Bury over at You Would Say That, Wouldn't You? Learn how Col got to this stage, the hard - and I mean really hard work - in getting there, and a sneaky reveal of the novel's plot.

I for one am very excited. Col is a fine writer, and that novel - as well as the follow-ups he is already working on - deserves to be grabbed by a publisher real soon.

Congrats Col. Onwards and upwards.


Friday, 1 October 2010

Lily's Friday Prediction

I obviously threw everyone by posting a day early last week, but David Barber still swooped in to give a great first entry, whilst Chris Allinotte introduced us to the deliciously gruesome, and ever shrinking 'Rinotte'. I dropped mine in only yesterday, if anyone wants to take a peek.

So, over to this week's with no rambling. Three quick words - which are:

  • Rubber
  • Brewery
  • Husk
Rules: 100 max flash fiction or poetry using all of the words above, posted in the comments box below. 

One last thing - would you like me to start choosing a winner? (No prizes, you greedy lot.)

Lily Childs is a writer of horror, esoteric, mystery and chilling fiction.

If you see her dancing outside in a thunder storm - don't try to bring her in. She's safe.