New Chapbook Collaboration with KnightWatch Press

Two years ago I wrote a new twisted fairy tale, IN SEARCH OF SILVER BOUGHS - a story of boots, of regret, of magic and slaughter. It had no destination, no home but despite that it remains one of the pieces I've most enjoyed writing - ever.

On the back of the recent release of WITHIN WET WALLS, I had a conversation with Theresa Derwin, owner of KnightWatch Press who said she'd like to read it for consideration for KWP's 2015/16 chapbook series. Expecting nothing, I reformatted the story to KWP's specifications and sent it directly to Theresa.

At the end of October 2014 I had the pleasure of meeting Theresa in person, along with a plethora of other horror-writing folk at the Hallowe'en Horror Signing event at Shaftesbury Avenue's incredible Forbidden Planet, then again later at the British Fantasy Society Open Day. It was at this latter event that Theresa told me the secret... she wanted Silver Boughs.

It's an understatement, and not the slightest bit cool, to say "I'm so excited"! But I am.

KnightWatch Press has worked and is working with a whole host of new and established authors I admire, including William Meikle, Jasper Bark, Alison Littlewood, Christine Morgan, Michael R Brush, Sean T. Page, Tim Waggoner, James Everington and Gary McMahon. It's such a pleasure to join everyone, as well to be working with KWP's incredible team of editors, artists and writers.

I look forward to giving you more news soon but in the meantime, KWP's announcement is here (under Now for 2015).

OUT NOW - The House of Three: A Short (Ghost) Story

The House of Three: A Short Story by Lily Childs

Mentioned in my last post (but without the trumpets), my short ghost story, THE HOUSE OF THREE is now available to buy from Amazon:

• The slim paperback (34 pages) is just
  £2.99 on Amazon.co.uk
  or $5.22 on Amazon.com
  
• The ebook is £0.99 on Amazon.co.uk
  or $1.99 on Amazon.com

A Little Background

I'd alluded to the fact that The House of Three is set in a considerably more dilapidated version of my own house. Since I wrote it over two years ago, the story has taken a morbid hold on me. Something has always stopped me from submitting it to open markets, as though it had stitched itself into the very bricks and mortar of my Victorian home (and the cells of my brain) and was refusing to let go.

Sometimes though, you simply have to cut the ties that bind.

I decided to release it through my own publishing platform, Ganglion Press. Whoosh! Gone.

The story is a slight detour from my usual writing 'style', less arty-farty poetic horror and more straightforward storytelling, slapped about with a hint of crime and given an unhealthy dose of the supernatural. There. Did that sell it to you?

I hope you like it. Do let me know.

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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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