If you are a writer, published or unpublished, just submit your story or book excerpt (I would like the book excerpts to be relatively self-contained, though) to firstname.lastname@example.org along with a paragraph bio and website/blog link. I'll also include a bio picture if you wish and links to your books if you are published.
Ideally, I'd like the length to be between 200 and 1000 words, but I'm not overly concerned with word count and will consider longer or shorter stories.
Also, please attach your story to the email as a Word document if possible; if not then send it in the body of the email.
Now here’s a sneak peek (using one of my stories from Killers and Demons) so you get the idea of what Storytime Wednesday will be:
Today’s story is the horror tale, Devoid by A. F. Stewart:
I wish I had my eyes closed.
Then I’d know why I can’t see.
Everything is black, there’s no light, no shapes.
And I don’t know where I am.
I’m sitting on a damp cold surface, my back against something hard; it feels like stone under my hands. Maybe I’m in a basement. I think I am alone, at least I can’t hear any sounds, in fact there’s no noise at all. It’s a perfect silence.
I don’t know how I got here.
Or where here is.
I’m so scared.
The last thing I remember is… being happy.
I was with Jeremy.
Jeremy, where’s Jeremy?!
What if he’s been…?
I reach out and my hand touches a hard surface, more stone, I think. I feel my way along the stonework to find four walls. I think I’m in a very small room, but I can’t locate a door. I try to stand, but my head hits a solid ceiling before I’m upright. I sit down again, the dread slowly crushing my thoughts. It can’t be true, I can’t be imprisoned!
NO! NO! NO!
I’m alone and I’m trapped!
How did I get here!
And how do I get out!
Someone has to get me out!
I’m screaming now. I can’t help it. I’m in a nightmare and I don’t know how to wake up. I claw at the walls in a futile attempt to escape, but all I manage is to bloody my fingers. I stop and take a breath, to calm myself.
I need to figure things out.
To remember last night.
Was it last night?
I don’t even know how long I’ve been here.
Jeremy and I were celebrating our six-month anniversary.
With champagne, in my apartment.
I was laughing and drinking.
Then…? Wait, yes. I stumbled, fell and...
Jeremy was smiling?
Why was he smiling?
I think I passed out.
Why did I pass out after one drink?
“Jeremy?!” Relief floods through me. He found me; I’m getting out of here! “I’m here, Jeremy! Help me! Get me out of here!”
“Why would I do that? After all the trouble I went through to put you in there?”
“Wh-what?!” The awful realization finally sinks in to my foolish mind.
“I spent months constructing your little underground prison, planning how to get you inside. I took great care in getting it all right. I made certain the stone was thick enough, the hatch could be permanently sealed, that there was a wireless setup so we could talk this one last time. I’m so happy. Everything fell into place flawlessly.”
“Why?! Why did you do this?!” I heard him laugh. A twisted version of the sound I used to love.
“For fun. I like doing this sort of thing. I like tormenting. I like killing.” There was more laughter. “Good-bye, Anna, and enjoy your new home. For the rest of your very short life.”
“No! You can’t mean it! Jeremy! Jeremy, please! Please don’t leave me here!” I wait for an answer, but there is only silence. “Jeremy! Please, please! Don’t leave me here!” I pray he is still there, cling to hope he will let me out, strain my ears for any noise, but nothing. He is gone.
I’m going to die.
He locked me in a hole to die.
He buried me alive and I’m going to die!
I’m not getting out!
There is no way to get out!
Somebody help me!
All around me it is darkness, and it is so still, so quiet.
I start screaming again.
A. F. Stewart is the indie author of several books, including Chronicles of the Undead and Killers and Demons, who favours writing dark fantasy that borders on horror.