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RELEASE: The Sirens Call – Issue 31 ‘5th Annual Women in Horror Edition’ | #Horror #WiHM8

Sirens Call Publications is pleased to announce the release of the latest issue of

The Sirens Call

Our 31st issue of The Sirens Call eZine comes in at 181 pages and features short stories, flash fiction, and poetry written by women celebrating Women in Horror Month. It also contains artwork by, and an interview with, Emerian Rich, as well as an interview with Su Haddrell, author of Bodies

Click on the cover for your #FREE download!

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EERIE TRAILS OF THE WILD WEIRD WEST: An Interview with @MaynardBlackoak | #Supernatural #Horror

 

Sirens Call Publications recently released the debut collection from Maynard Blackoak titled Eerie Trails of the Wild Weird West. In an effort to learn a little more about Maynard and his writing, we sat down with him and asked him a few probing questions…

Sirens Call Publications: Welcome Maynard! What made you decide to become a writer?

Maynard Blackoak: It goes back to honors English class my junior year in high school. Creative writing was one area I seemed to excel. In fact, my teacher encouraged me to pursue writing for a living. I laughed it off as a pipe dream and didn’t write at all for twenty years. Then one day, when I was feeling burned out and tired of my career path, I picked up writing as a creative outlet. I had a few things published here and there. About twelve years later, I decided to attempt to get paid for my writing. My first endeavor, Under the Black Oak Tree, was accepted as part of The Endlands Volume 2. It took a few more years before I sold another story, but I stuck with it.

SCP: What is Eerie Trails of the Wild Weird West about?

Maynard: Eerie Trails is my attempt to combine two genres I’ve always enjoyed—westerns and horror. It’s a collection of stories I hope gives the reader a taste of the Wild West with a side of ghosts, demons, demigods and monsters. To give it a more unique flair, I used many actual people from that period of time.

SCP: What is the one thing you’d like readers to know about Eerie Trails of the Wild Weird West before they read it?

Maynard: Like I said before, there are many actual people used as characters in the stories. For instance, Dynamite Dan Clifton was an outlaw with a hefty price on his head. The bounty was so high, it influenced several people to make false claims about killing him. That’s how he earned the reputation of The Most Killed Man in the West. Another aspect of these stories, I used character names from old television westerns as minor characters in my stories to pay homage to those shows.

SCP: What is your writing process? Do you consider yourself to be a planner or a pantser?

Maynard: My process is that I have no real process. I just let the story tell itself as I write it. I come up with a general idea and let the story go where it goes. Sometimes even I am surprised by the ending.

SCP: If you could cast your favourite story in the collection, who would you choose to play your main characters?

Maynard: How about me playing the main characters? I’d like to think there’s a little of me in all of them. Well, maybe just in the scoundrels. Seriously, we’d have to raise the dead to allow me my choice of actors. Clark Gable, Spencer Tracy, Gary Cooper, John Wayne, Randolph Scott, Maureen O’Hara, Yvonne De Carlo, Ida Lupino, and Jane Russell would be my first choices. Come to think of it, Sam Elliot and Kurt Russell and the rest of the cast of Tombstone wouldn’t hurt my feelings at all.

SCP: What is the hardest challenge that you have faced as a writer?

Maynard: Writing stories that would appeal to a large audience. I know what I like, but that style seems to have gone out of favor in today’s world. I’m something of a dinosaur. I like to be challenged as much as entertained when I read, but not so much as I write.

SCP: In your opinion, what sets Eerie Trails of the Wild Weird West apart from other books of the same genre?

Maynard: I don’t believe there are many books out there that combine actual elements of the old west with the supernatural. Plus, having had a little experience many years ago working cattle and a couple of times wrangling buffalo (something I hope to never do again), it gives me a something of a perspective into cowboying. 

SCP: Are you reading anything right now, or have you read anything recently that is worth mentioning?

Maynard: I recently reread, The Jungle by Upton Sinclair and 1984 by Orwell. Given the current political environment, I think both stories still have merit today.

SCP: Who are some of your favorite authors? Favorite novels?

Maynard: I love the darkness of Poe and his use of obscure words, the way in which Dickens painted pictures with his words, the intellectual nature of Conan Doyle, and the way in which Hemmingway turned a phrase. Frankenstein, Dracula, War of the Worlds would be a few of my favorite novels. My favorite tales though, were the Sherlock Holmes short stores. I began reading them at ten years of age with a dictionary handy. I have loved them since.

SCP: How do you define success as a writer? Have you been successful?

Maynard: Success as a writer to me means having many people enjoy your tales. Nothing would please me more than to see groups of diverse people talking about my writing. I’d love to see thousands of likes on my Facebook author page or subscribers to my blog page. I still get excited when someone likes my page or messages me out of the blue to talk about my writing. I’d love to hear and read reviews, whether good or bad, about my work. So far, I cannot call myself a success. Maybe someday, success as I define it will come my way. Either way, I will always be excited and humbled by every person who enjoys my work.

SCP: Do you have words of wisdom about writing that you want to pass on to novelists and writers out there who are just starting out?

Maynard: Be persistent. Be thick skinned. Take the good words and the criticisms with the same enthusiasm. After all, someone took the time to read your story and was considerate enough to give you feedback.

SCP: What should readers walk away from your book knowing? How should they feel?

Maynard: I hope everyone comes away thinking they had just read something unique, well written, and entertaining. I hope they experienced a range of emotions, and maybe a few surprises. Most of all, I hope they could feel the heat of the west Texas sun, taste the dust of the cattle trail on their lips, and imagine themselves in the old west.

Thank you Maynard for taking the time to answer our questions. And now for your enjoyment, here’s an excerpt from Brethren, the first tale in Eerie Trails of the Wild Weird West…

Brethren

The searing heat of the blazing sun bore down on me as I slowly crawled, on my three good limbs, across the seemingly endless prairie. Sweat dripped from my filth covered, haggard face, falling onto the crisp, dry brush. Blood seeped from gunshot wounds in my side and leg. My blood soaked clothes left a trail of crimson smears on the ground behind me.

It had been several hours since my horse, water, provisions and nearly everything I owned was stolen by a trio of ruthless outlaws. The men shot and robbed me, before callously riding off, leaving me to die in a desolate stretch of lonesome prairie.

Pulling myself along the dusty ground, I felt the scythe of the grim reaper gradually ripping life from my exhausted, pain-ridden body. The odds were stacked against me as I struggled to keep moving. I knew my only chance would be to stumble across assistance, before I became just another anonymous pile of bleached bones littering the prairie.

Gazing desperately out over the mile after mile of rolling prairie grasses, there was nothing appearing on the horizon, except the cold, harsh reality of death. A sudden rush of peace came over me, like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day. I began to entertain thoughts of simply laying down on the grass, giving in to the utter hopelessness of my plight. In my fractured state of mind, I could not see the dishonor in graciously bowing to defeat before a greater foe.

My decision having been made, I crawled under a large, shady maple tree to spend my final moments basking in its shadow. The slight breeze rattled its leaves, creating a tranquil melody that soothed my aches and pains into distant memory. Peace ruled over me as I leaned my back against the tree, and closed my eyes, waiting to die.

Sleep followed quickly with dreams of many faces standing over me, their sympathetic eyes gazing down on my piteous form. Perhaps it was only a dream. I have yet to determine. For the next thing I recall was awaking in a nice comfortable bed, with the beautiful face of an angel sitting in a chair at my side.

“Welcome back,” she said to me, her broad smile illuminating the room.

“Welcome back?” I inquired, my face wrinkled with confusion.

“We almost lost you several times over the last few days,” she explained, her smile fading slightly. “But Doc Jessup kept pulling you back. How was it you came to be on the prairie without a horse and two bullet holes in you? Mister… uh.”

“The name’s Wesley, Willie Wesley… And I was bushwhacked by two men who stole everything I had ‘cept the clothes on my back,” I quickly replied, wincing at the memory. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but where am I, and how in hell did I get here?”

“You’re in Brethren… in Oklahoma Territory,” she replied.

Just then, a diminutive, elderly man walked into the room. “I see our patient’s awake, Clara. Has he told you his name and what happened to him?” He asked, a grin spreading across his face as he walked over to my bed.

“Yes he has, Doc. This is Willie Wesley. He met up with some bad men out on the prairie. And right now he’s full of questions.”

“Well we’ll just have to see about giving him some answers,” Doc offered in a friendly tone, pulling back the bedding to examine my gunshot wounds.

As Doc changed the dressing on my wounds, he and Clara began revealing the circumstances of my presence there. They told me I had hobbled up to a tree at the edge of town, and collapsed. It was there that I was spotted by a handful of Brethren’s townspeople, semiconscious and babbling about dying. They carted me to Doc Jessup, who, along with Clara, had been caring for me over the last three days.

Though what they told me conflicted with my own hazy recollection of the situation, Doc explained my diminished condition rendered my memories of that day unreliable. Despite an uneasy feeling, and disregarding what my mind recalled as fact; I accepted his explanation along with the new reality of events that had been told to me.

Convalescing over the next several days, Clara and I spent countless hours talking and getting to know one another. As it turned out, we held much in common. We shared similar roots, both having been born and raised in Texas, and then gradually making our way across the Red River. Also like me, she had no living family, only her friends and neighbors in Brethren.

Being a cattle drover by trade, I never established a hometown or friendships. Since the age of fifteen, my life consisted of going from one cattle drive to another with the occasional temporary job as a ranch hand during the winter months. I had never spent sufficient time in any one place to establish ties or feel a sense of belonging. However, the more I absorbed the friendly atmosphere of Brethren, the more I began to feel a longing to be a part of a community, their community.

Not only did I begin to experience an attachment for the town and people of Brethren, so too did my feelings for Clara grow deeper. Her infectious smile could penetrate and brighten my foulest of moods. Just the simple touches of her hand on mine set my heart aflutter. The sound of her voice set my mind adrift in undreamt fantasies of life with Clara as my bride. Every moment she spent at my bedside became a precious treasure.

Once I was able to walk, Clara and I took short strolls about town. Then, as my leg grew stronger, we began venturing into the countryside, just outside of town. It was during one of those walks to a nearby stream I finally decided to divulge my feelings for her.

“I’ve got something I really need to tell you, Clara,” I stated, staring uneasily into her eyes.

She smiled, asking in a sweet voice, “What’s that, Willie?”

Living the life of a drover offered me few opportunities to meet women. Outside those who worked in the saloons and bordellos in towns along the cattle trails, women were few and far between. To be perfectly frank, the women I had met were not the type of women with whom most cowhands sought to build a lasting relationship. Consequently, professing my feelings to a woman was treading new ground for me. It felt like I was trying to climb a slippery slope with banana peels on the soles of my boots.

The pressure to put those feelings into the perfect words mounted, as I gazed into her big, beautiful, emerald green eyes. The words I sought to speak became jumbled inside my head. No matter how I tried to slog my way through the disarray of my fractured thoughts, I could only stand there in distress, feeling very much like a steer stuck in mud.

“You don’t have to say a word, Willie. I feel the same way about you,” Clara offered with a broad, understanding smile, rescuing me from my own frustration.

A feeling of relief rushed over me. She had spoken the words my bumbling mind failed to send to my paralyzed lips. What’s more, she professed having those same deep feelings for me. I pulled her into me, kissing her sweet lips. With the sound of the flowing waters and birds chirping merrily, she agreed to be my wife.

Hand in hand, we walked back to town, happily ever after sparkling in our eyes. There was an extra bounce to our step, keeping pace with the swaying of our interlocked hands. A crisp newness to the sights and sounds around us made us look upon our surroundings with more profound appreciation. Everything seemed right with the world as we reveled in our recently professed love for one another.

Back in town, we sought out Doc Jessup to tell him of our plans to wed. Clara seemed apprehensive about telling him of our intentions. I overlooked it, thinking it merely a case of her worrying over his response. Still, I confessed to finding it a little bothersome that the gleam in her eye diminished slightly.

“So you two are going to marry,” the old doctor said with a grin, looking at us over the tops of his round lenses as he sat at his desk. “I couldn’t be happier for you.”

“Thanks, Doc. And don’t you worry none. You won’t be losing your nurse. We ain’t talked about it, but I reckon me and Clara’ll be settling down here in Brethren,” I offered, nodding with a smile directed at Clara.

Doc and Clara exchanged dubious glances. Uncomfortable expressions covered their faces. The doctor’s gaze remained fixated on her, while her eyes lowered to the floor. I could tell there was a secret they shared that needed to be revealed. The air in the room became ripe with tension, as their reticent demeanors continued amid an agonizing silence. I felt a sense of dread creeping over me, wondering of the dire mystery they shared.

“Willie needs to be told, Clara,” Doc averred, breaking the uneasy hush.

“Tell me what?” I interjected, worry showing on my brow. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Before… you can be permitted to live in Brethren… so we can be together… You’ll have to complete a task,” Clara answered after a few lengthy pauses, with tears forming in her eyes…

***

maynardblackoak_eerietrailsofthewilfweirdwest_frontcover_final-1

Eerie Trailsof the Wild Weird West

In this collection of fourteen strange tales from the wild west, Cowboys and Indians face down supernatural beings of all varieties – from vampires and werewolves; to ghosts and vengeful spirits; to mythological creatures.

Saddle up cowboys and ladies alike, once the journey begins, Eerie Trails of the Wild Weird West will take you down a strange and bizarre path though the old west that you’ve never been on before.

Available on:

Amazon:

US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil | India | The Netherlands

Amazon Print:

US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil | India | The Netherlands

Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords | CreateSpace (Print)

***

Maynard1.jpgAbout the Author — Maynard Blackoak is a freelance writer living in the backwoods of Pawnee County, Oklahoma. He draws upon the sights of neglect and unusual sounds around him for inspiration. A bit of a recluse, he can often be found strolling through an old, forgotten cemetery or in the woods among the twisted black oaks and native elms under the light of the moon.

Twitter | Facebook

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EERIE TRAILS FROM THE WILD WEIRD WEST BLOG TOUR #StartsTomorrow #Supernatural #Horror #Collection

The blog tour for Maynard Blackoak’s Eerie Trails of the Wild Weird West starts tomorrow…

February 6:

Horror Addicts
Spreading the Writer’s Word
The Horror Review
Laurie’s Paranormal Thoughts and Reviews

February 7:

February 8:

February 9:

February 10:

February 11:

February 12:

***
maynardblackoak_eerietrailsofthewilfweirdwest_frontcover_final-1
Eerie Trailsof the Wild Weird West
In this collection of fourteen strange tales from the wild west, Cowboys and Indians face down supernatural beings of all varieties – from vampires and werewolves; to ghosts and vengeful spirits; to mythological creatures.
Saddle up cowboys and ladies alike, once the journey begins, Eerie Trails of the Wild Weird West will take you down a strange and bizarre path though the old west that you’ve never been on before.

Eerie Trails of the Wild Weird West Available on:

Amazon:

US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico |

Brazil | IndiaThe Netherlands

Amazon Print:

US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico |

Brazil | IndiaThe Netherlands

Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords | CreateSpace

***

maynardblackoakAbout the Author — Maynard Blackoak is a freelance writer living in the backwoods of Pawnee County, Oklahoma. He draws upon the sights of neglect and unusual sounds around him for inspiration. A bit of a recluse, he can often be found strolling through an old, forgotten cemetery or in the woods among the twisted black oaks and native elms under the light of the moon.

Twitter:@maynardblackoak

Facebook:Maynard Blackoak

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VISCERA BLOG TOUR: An Interview with Jessica B. Bell, Author of Viscera | #Horror #Collection

An Interview with Viscera Author, Jessica B. Bell

Having recently released the debut collection from author Jessica B. Bell, we thought it might be fun to sit down with her to discuss a variety of topics relating to writing and Viscera. Keep reading if you’d like to learn more about this Canadian writer of strange fiction who is rumoured to live in a damp, dark basement, writing her twisted tales in her own blood on faded yellow parchment…

Sirens Call Publications: Welcome Jessica! What made you decide to become a writer?

Jessica B. Bell: A short-lived career as a recreational brain surgeon led me to believe that my talents lay elsewhere. No, no, that’s not true—it was being marooned on a desert island with no one to talk to that started me on my path to storytelling. Or perhaps, it’s just that I’m a habitual liar, and so making things up comes naturally.

SCP: What is Viscera about?

Jessica: Well, it’s a collection of strange tales—some of them scary, some of them darkly humorous. I chose the title Viscera because all the stories, in one way or another, hit you in the gut.

SCP: What is the one thing you’d like readers to know about Viscera before they read it?

Jessica: No animals were harmed during the writing process.

SCP: What is your writing process? Do you consider yourself to be a planner or a pantser?

Jessica: Most of the time, I’m a planner. The stories that come easiest to me are the ones that come more or less fully formed in my head (I’ll often come up with the ending before anything else, and then figure out how to get there). I’m currently writing a story, however, that began with just a concept, and while flying by the seat of my pants, it developed into something I had not even thought about.

SCP: What is the hardest challenge that you have faced as a writer?

Jessica: Finding an audience in the modern Internet age, when anyone and everyone can publish online. Writing isn’t like any other art—a musician can get a gig, and can play for a room full of people and get that instant gratification. An artist can show their work and it only takes someone a moment to like it and show their appreciation. Finding readers is a different story altogether, because it takes an investment of time and interest.

SCP: In your opinion, what sets Viscera apart from other books of the same genre?

Jessica: I think there’s a story in Viscera for everyone. There are tiny little 100 word stories, stories about monsters, both human and otherwise, twists on classic horror tropes, stories that will make you laugh when you know you shouldn’t.

SCP: Are you reading anything right now, or have you read anything recently that is worth mentioning?

Jessica: I’m in the middle of reading B.P.R.D.—Hell on Earth by Mike Mignola and John Arcudi. It’s a graphic novel and if you’re familiar with Hellboy, it’s set in that same universe. Mike Mignola is the modern heir to the Lovecraftian tradition, and it’s everything that the Marvel and DC crowd is not. It’s smart, frightening, and fast-paced.

SCP: Who are some of your favorite authors? Favorite novels?

Jessica: Stephen King, H.P. Lovecraft, Chuck Palahniuk, Shirley Jackson, Neil Gaiman… too many to list, but there’s a handful. My favourite novels are Lord of the Flies, Fahrenheit 451, and The Haunting of Hill House.

SCP: How do you define success as a writer? Have you been successful?

Jessica: Honestly? The admiration of complete strangers! That’s messed up, I know, but I don’t trust the praise of friends or family. It’s one of the reasons I write under pseudonyms. And so, have I been successful? Yes, I suppose I have. But one thing I’ve learned is that it’s never enough. You always want more.

SCP: Do you have words of wisdom about writing that you want to pass on to novelists and writers out there who are just starting out?

Jessica: Write first to entertain yourself. If you don’t want to read your own work, no one else will. Learn the rules first before you start breaking them. And for the love of god, don’t write everything in first person. There’s a certain type of story that it fits, but not every story.

SCP: What should readers walk away from your book knowing? How should they feel?

Jessica: Well, I should think they’d know how to serve the perfect Hasenpfeffer, as well as who to avoid at the office party. I hope they feel satisfied, and go back again to visit their favourites from time to time.

Thank you Jessica for taking the time to answer our questions!

And now for a little teaser from one of the stories contained within Viscera

An Excerpt from

H(A)UNTED

“What about Reality TV?” Dax suggested to the room of studio executives. They were brainstorming show ideas for the next season, and the well had gone dry. They’d run through every sitcom formula, every franchise reboot, not to mention live action versions of beloved classic cartoons, and viewers were getting bored. With the latest writers’ strike now into its third year, producers were looking for more basic forms of entertainment. There was the Gladiator Revival of 2025—and with the latest CGI advancements, they hadn’t even needed to use actual actors—which cut costs substantially. But, people had complained about the lack of emotional involvement, knowing nobody was actually at risk. So that hadn’t lasted very long. But then, game shows were making a comeback—just over thirty years into a new century plagued by economic collapse and global political re-structuring, backward-looking nostalgia was at an all-time high.

“What about Reality TV?” A bored looking woman in her late fifties asked. “It’s all been done.”

“Well, hear me out,” Dax said, flipping through a file containing a proposal she’d been working on for months. “The Russians want to hire out their empty space station, right?”

“Soviets, Dax,” one of the lawyers corrected her. “It’s Soviets again since the latest revolution.”

“Okay, whatever,” Dax dismissed the sniveling man with a wave of her hand. “Russians, Soviets—all I know is that they’re broke, and they’re hiring out their empty but perfectly functional space station.”

Dax looked around the room to see if anyone was thinking what she was thinking, and found herself staring at a lot of blank, unimaginative faces.

“Oh, come on!” She cried, annoyed at their lack of enthusiasm. “Reality TV in space!”

The Vice President of production sighed in disinterest.

“In space, in a school, on a bus, in Hawaii or at the Playboy Mansion—it makes no difference. You put a bunch of socially inept people with carefully chosen adversarial polarizing attributes in a room together, and they get on each other’s nerves and bitch about each other in the confessional interviews. It’s been done to death, and nobody wants to watch that shit anymore. Anybody got any other ideas?”

Dax wasn’t finished.

“Yes, but you can’t escape in space, Mr. Fox,” she said, and something about the dark tone of her voice intrigued the older man.

“Go on,” the VP said, and all eyes suddenly turned to look at Dax.

***

Cassandra kept very still and pressed her body up against the precious heat of the Artificial Gravity Unit. She pressed her face into her sleeve to muffle the sound of her breathing, which was coming in hitching gasps. She wasn’t sure how many of them were still alive, but she was pretty sure she knew who the killer was. The crazy thing was, nobody was supposed to be dying—not for real—not really dying. It was all supposed to be faked. They explained everything to them during orientation. It was a whole Haunted Mansion scenario, only in space. Nobody was going to get hurt—not really. They were just going to stage some creepy accidents, essentially ‘killing off’ the contestants one a week. And whoever was left at the end would be going home with a million dollars prize money. Well, less tax, of course, but none of them were complaining about that.

The viewers at home would decide who lived and who died—it was sort of an interactive murder mystery, and if you lost popularity in the Internet polls, well…

But it was all staged. The tension came from never knowing. Not even the contestants knew who would be ‘killed’, or when. And the ‘killer’ would always strike when the ‘victim’ was alone. After that, no one ever heard from them again.

Except that Cassie had seen what that monster had done to the last one, and she didn’t think that was something you could fake.

“Randall!” She cried out, catching her breath and gripping tightly to a screwdriver—the only weapon she could find. “Randall, you son-of-a-bitch, are you out there? You better stay away from me. I’m ready for you, Randall, I’m…”

***

“Well, shit,” Dax swore, pausing the feed. “We’ll have to scrub that—can’t have her spilling the beans before we’re ready.”

Dax sat watching a wall of twenty different monitors. There were cameras all over the station—not counting the camera crew that was there to capture the contestants during meal times, or to take individual interviews at the end of each day.

Dax and her unusually small crew were tasked with editing the footage and packaging it together for the show each week. Dax had personally handpicked the people on her team, and she trusted each of them implicitly. She’d worked on shows in the past where insider information had been leaked to the Internet, and Dax wouldn’t tolerate that for this project.

“Ms. Ginishami,” one of her interns interrupted, an ambitious girl whose name escaped her. “I’m afraid…”

“Please, I’ve told you, call me Dax… um…”

“It’s Becky, Ms… Dax. And I’m afraid the families are still calling. Some of them are quite upset.”

Dax smiled at the young woman. She was too sweet to be pulling damage control duty, but someone had to do it.

“And as I believe I told you before, you need to assure them that HAUNTED is a controlled environment, and their loved ones are resting safely aboard the station. Their radio silence is all part of the illusion—they all signed gag orders as part of their contract. They remain aboard that station until the entire show is over, with no contact with the outside world. They are being generously compensated for their participation.”

“Yes, Ms… Yes, of course. It’s just, the images are quite… convincing.”

“Well, thank you, Becky. That means I’m doing my job.”

“Right,” the intern smiled nervously. “But perhaps if they could just talk to their families.”

“Absolutely not,” Dax snapped. “Out of the question. Do you know how hard it is to create this kind of illusion; to cast this kind of doubt and questioning? Right now, millions of viewers out there are convinced that this just might be real—that they might actually be witnessing something gone horribly awry. Two minutes after you let one of those losers up there talk to their family down here, it will be all over the Internet that it’s fake. And then we might as well all pack up, because it’ll be all over.”

***

If that excerpt has you intrigued, here’s a little more information about Viscera

Viscera_FrontCover_Promo.png

Viscera is a collection of short stories full of all the things that make you squirm, cringe, and laugh when you know you shouldn’t. You’ll remember why you’re afraid of the dark and experience an abundance of weird creatures: witches, ancient gods, and all-too-human monsters – the scariest of all.

Indulge your twisted sense of humor with stories about unconventional werewolves and a woman with a frog fetish. Know what it’s like to arrive too late to save an unusual alien abductee, or giggle with sick delight as a woman serves up a special Hasenpfeffer dinner to her pig of a husband.

Settle in for bedtime stories fit for monsters.

Viscera will grab you by the gut and squeeze, making you cry for mercy—or laugh like a fiend!

Viscera is available on:

Amazon:

US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil | India | The Netherlands

Amazon Print:

US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil | India | The Netherlands

Kobo

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

iTunes

***

jessicabbellABOUT THE AUTHOR — Jessica B. Bell is a Canadian writer of strange fiction. It is rumoured that she lives in a damp, dark basement, writing her twisted tales in her own blood on faded yellow parchment. Her stories have been published in various anthologies, the most recent of which is Voices. She also writes under the name Helena Hann-Basquiat, and has published two novels on the metafictional topic of Jessica B. Bell, titled Jessica and Singularity. A third and final novel is planned for 2017.

Find more of Jessica’s (and Helena’s) writing at whoisjessica.com.

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SUBMISSIONS CLOSED: The Sirens Call – Issue 31 ‘5th Annual WiHM Edition’ | #Horror

Submissions for the 31th issue of The Sirens Call, looking for short stories, flash fiction, and poetry written by women and celebrating Women in Horror Month with our fifth annual edition, are closed.

Sirens Call Publications would like to thank all of the authors who submitted work for consideration. We’ll be in touch as soon as we can with our decisions.

To any authors or publishers looking for Ad space, please contact Julianne at Julianne@SirensCallPublications.com for details.

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VISCERA BLOG TOUR #StartsTomorrow #Horror #Collection

The blog tour for Jessica B. Bell’s Viscera starts tomorrow…

January 16:
January 17:
January 18:
January 19:

viscera_frontcoverViscera is a collection of short stories full of all the things that make you squirm, cringe, and laugh when you know you shouldn’t. You’ll remember why you’re afraid of the dark and experience an abundance of weird creatures: witches, ancient gods, and all-too-human monsters – the scariest of all.

Indulge your twisted sense of humor with stories about unconventional werewolves and a woman with a frog fetish. Know what it’s like to arrive too late to save an unusual alien abductee, or giggle with sick delight as a woman serves up a special Hasenpfeffer dinner to her pig of a husband.

Settle in for bedtime stories fit for monsters.

Viscera will grab you by the gut and squeeze, making you cry for mercy—or laugh like a fiend!

Available on:

Amazon:

US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil | India | The Netherlands

Amazon Print:

US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil | India | The Netherlands

Kobo

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

iTunes

jessicabbellABOUT THE AUTHOR — Jessica B. Bell is a Canadian writer of strange fiction. It is rumoured that she lives in a damp, dark basement, writing her twisted tales in her own blood on faded yellow parchment. Her stories have been published in various anthologies, the most recent of which is Voices. She also writes under the name Helena Hann-Basquiat, and has published two novels on the metafictional topic of Jessica B. Bell, titled Jessica and Singularity. A third and final novel is planned for 2017.

Find more of Jessica’s (and Helena’s) writing at whoisjessica.com

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RELEASE: The Sirens Call – Issue 30 ‘Death in All Its Glory’ #Horror #EndofYear #Goodbye2016

Sirens Call Publications is pleased to announce the release of the latest issue of

The Sirens Call

Our 30th issue of The Sirens Call eZine comes in at 189 pages and features short stories, flash fiction, and poetry celebrating Death in All Its Glory. It also contains illustrations by, and an interview with, Joshua James, as well as an interview with author Jessica B. Bell. Don’t forget to check out the excerpt from Viscera, Jessica’s debut short story collection!

Click on the cover for your #FREE download!

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