Their Dark Masters traps Walls of Flesh

This morning I had great delight in hearing that Mark Crittenden has accepted Walls of Flesh, recently showcased on The Feardom, into Red Skies Press' forthcoming vampire anthology Their Dark Masters.

I've been invited to submit another, full-length piece of between 4-7000 words, and am working on The Infanta Triptych. The Triptych's three stars hope to introduce themselves very soon.

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Grave Echoes by Erin Cole

Been waitin' too long... and finally - it's here!

The Feardom is very excited that Erin Cole's début novel Grave Echoes is now up for grabs - and grab it you should. Her writing is mysterious, dark and exquisite, laden with sensual and poetic treats.

Grave Echoes is on my wish list - don't you dare get it before I do! But if you must, then take a look at Erin's blog 'Listen to the Voices' to find out where you can buy it. If you're in the UK like me you can get it from Amazon.co.uk.

Congratulations Erin, bring on Wicked Tempest.

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Cold Heart - now showing in Michael J. Solender's Dog Days of Summer

Back at the beginning of summer MJS launched a great challenge. Write 101 words exactly to include the words 'Summer' and 'Heat'; the best entries would appear in an e-chap book to be launched today, 1st September.

Well, I heard from Mr S back in August that my little 101-worder Cold Heart had been selected with an honorary mention. Ooh! Had to keep stum until today but now Dog Days of Summer is out there! And there are some great photos too.

The winning entry by Sam Adamson was a cool giggle, well deserved. Great interview at the NOT too.

You can download the e-chap book FREE from here. Cold Heart is on page 34, but you can also read it below. Many thanks Michael. An excellent literary event.

Cold Heart

It glistens in someone else’s hand. No matter. I have to have it. I’ve got to take it off her, assuage the rabid heat that has made me sweat and stink throughout this evil, relentless summer.

Walking, marching, running now I snatch it and abscond, licking at the frozen juice as I sprint away. Sugared orange spills and drips over my grateful breasts.

The mother’s shouts and her daughter’s ugly wailing do nothing to stop me in my tracks. I suck until the bleached popsicle breaks apart in my mouth and I collapse to the ground, sticky with neuralgia... and regret.

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