Book Spotlight: Hotel Macabre

 Another book spotlight today, for the anthology Hotel Macabre Vol.1 edited by Joe Mynhardt. Enjoy

Hotel Macabre Vol.1

Step into the halls of Hotel Macabre, where horror meets innovation.

 

Where horror knows no bounds…

 

And every turn reveals a new nightmare.

 

Hotel Macabre Vol.1 is not your typical horror anthology. It’s an immersive experience that breaks the boundaries of conventional storytelling. This one-of-a-kind collection gathers the chilling voices of horror’s most imaginative minds, presenting a rich blend of flash fiction, short stories, poetry, a suspenseful play, a novella, and even an illustrated comic book section, guaranteeing a diverse feast for horror fans like never before.

 

Whether you crave the suspense of flash horror, the depth of a full-bodied short story, or the haunting rhythm of dark poetry, Hotel Macabre Vol.1 has it all. And for those looking for something truly unique, this anthology includes a link to an exclusive dramatic reading, bringing the terror to life in a way you’ve never heard before. Each story and poem opens a door to new terrors, while the comic and play sections add a visual and theatrical thrill, making this anthology a must-read for fans of horror anthologies and short horror stories alike.

 

Dare to enter Hotel Macabre and discover a groundbreaking anthology that will redefine your expectations of horror.

Book Link: https://geni.us/HotelMacabre1

Contributing Authors:

Jonathan Winn, Grant Longstaff, Jonny Gensler, Jennifer Osborn, Devin Anderson, Diana Olney, Stephanie M. Wytovich, Joshua Viola, Jasper Bark, Patrick Malka, Alessandro Manzetti, Derek Odom, Alex McCarthy, John Smith, Bridgett Nelson, Mark Gunnells, Amanda M. Blake, Pixie Bruner, Tom Deady, Melissa Meachen, Maxwell I. Gold, Sean Eads, Mia Dalia, Nick Roberts, Chrissy Winters, Matthew R. Davis,Dylan Wells, Brandon Wills, Karen Bayly, Gregg Stewart, Larry Hinkle, Jamal Hodge, Gary McMahon, Claire Davon, Wil Dalton, John Palisano, Linda D. Addison, Naiad, Chris Phelon, Robin Brown, Naching T. Kassa, Esteban Vargas, and Michael Lawrence.

October Frights Day 1: Introductions and Judgement

Welcome to the first day of the October Frights Blog Hop, the annual spookfest where horror and paranormal author get together and bring you creepy scares. The Hop runs from the 10th-15th and we have seventeen participants this year, so join us for some dark delights.

This year, I'm doing a witch/magic theme in honour of my new release, Past Legends (which I showcase on the 15th) and today I have a flash fiction story and a gift.

First the gift.

From October 10th until October 14th you can download my horror fantasy story collection Visions and Nightmares for free! That's right free.

Check it out.

With the odds stacked against them, can these ten women survive... or will they succumb to the threat of revenge, fate, and death?

Wander into the realm of the old gods with Elenora, where humanity and marriage are a prison.
Step through a looking glass of dark horrors with an Alice you never knew.
Join with Zenna to seek the truth as her death by magic grows closer.
Journey with Olivia as she crosses paths with a monster of the forest and runs for her life.
Watch Isobel summon the faerie to solve her problem of an unwanted husband.
Shiver as Doctor Killbride experiments with corpses to create life from death.
All that and more await within the pages.

In the twilight shadows, secrets are revealed in the whispers of madness and the world shifts… Who will persevere? Who will fall? And who will succumb to their inner evil?

Find out in Visions and Nightmares.

Warning: This book contains disturbing scenes that may be upsetting to some readers.

Download for Free

And now here's the story.

Judgement

The dank air stilled, not a whisper of a breeze. Bitter cold seeped into my bones, and little light filtered through the grey sky to illuminate the way. I wanted to turn back, to run screaming from this path, but that was not a choice I could make. The rune mark on my hand condemned me to this fate.

The elders sentenced me to seek judgement for my crimes.

As I arrived at the temple, I saw her, Aresis, Goddess of Judgement. Standing statuesque, pale skin shimmering, and dressed in shining silver robes with a sword in each hand. Her eyes were closed, her expression stark underneath slicked back alabaster hair. I noticed a mark tattooed on her forehead; a match to mine.

I whimpered, and she opened her eyes. There was no running, no hiding now.

She stared at me, glancing at the mark on my hand. “Tell me your crimes.”

I shivered at the soft tone of her voice, and my throat went dry. I croaked, “The elders of my village accused me of heresy. Of breaking traditional law. Of disobedience to the church.”

“These are useless words. Tell me your crimes.”

I swallowed, shaking in fear. I didn’t want to tell her my sins. But I had no choice. “I refused to follow the church edicts. I refused to shun those who the elders deemed unworthy.”

The Goddess frowned. “Who were deemed unworthy?”

I hung my head, my words barely a whisper. “Those who could not, or refused to pay, the church taxes. Those who would not give the gods their due.” I looked up, my eyes pleading for mercy. “But I am a healer. I can not turn away those in need, even if they have wronged the gods. I treated all who came to me for aid and helped those in need.” I sighed and lowered my gaze to the ground. “I never meant to disrespect the gods, but I would do it again.”

I felt her move closer; her icy fingers touched my chin and lifted my head. I stared into her grey, piercing eyes, terror seizing me. Yet, she smiled.

“Good. The gods ask for no monetary tribute, only faith and kindness. You have shown more adherence to the gods than your church and elders. They are the ones that have sinned. And they are the ones who will feel my judgement.”

She stepped back, swinging her swords. They sang through the air, splitting the sky with a razor-edged clang, and the wind howled in a sudden gale that forced me to my knees. Thunder rattled my bones and lightning streaked across the firmament as a bloody rain fell in torrents. My skin and clothes soaked red, and I wept until it ended.

Then I heard the Goddess's voice.

“Return home. Your village will have need for a kind soul and a healer. They will have a need for a leader. The ones they had are all dead now.”

I dared not look at her, only turned and fled, the blood of my accusers stained into my soul.

We also have a group giveaway with 23 great books available.

Ends October 31st.

Check the books out here.

 

The October Frights Giveaway

And be sure to continue on with the rest of our hoppers to see what they’re up to. 

Night to Dawn Magazine & Books LLC

Hawk's Happenings

Heidi Angell

Curiosities

James McDonald

Always Another Chapter

Spreading the Writer's Word

Yours in Storytelling

Carmilla Voiez

Hello Romance

GirlZombieAuthors

Frighten Me

M'habla's!

Angela Yuriko Smith

Brain Matter

NLCARTERWRITES.COM

October Frights Day 2: Scarecrow

A little creepy story for you today...

Original Image by Screamenteagle from Pixabay

Scarecrow

The air smelled of damp earth and moonlight glistened off the dying corn stalks. I shivered when the cold wind hit my face. The field seemed to stretch for miles, dozens of decaying plants and a grassy meadow beyond. I didn't recognize any of it, but it felt familiar. Something else felt familiar too.
I was scared.
Fear cramping my gut, I crouched behind the withering stalks to hide from… I wasn’t sure. I slowed my breathing, peering between the vegetation, staring into the shadows and the shifting moonlight. I listened, but heard nothing. Slowly I rose and glanced towards the distance, wondering if I could run.
Where? Where would I run?
A dark shape caught my attention. Something stood at the edge of the corn rows. As light drifted into the gloom, I saw outstretched arms, a figure wearing a straw hat, stuck on a pole. I sighed in relief. Just a scarecrow. Then I frowned.
Funny, I didn’t notice it before.
I tried to look away, to search for an escape, somewhere to run, but I kept staring. It drew me in, this black silhouette of a raggedy man stuffed with straw.
Wait, did it move? Must have been the wind.
Except there was no wind.
I shuddered, unable to break my gaze from the scene. Its spindly arms grasped the pole and thrust itself off, the scarecrow landing on the ground with a rustle of grass and a faint thump. I whimpered as it turned and I saw its contorted face and black eyes. I shivered at the sight of its lopsided grin.
I’m dreaming, I must be dreaming.
Straw crackled loudly, too loudly, and the creature lumbered towards me, arms outstretched, fingers curled like claws. Bile and terror surged in my throat but I couldn’t move. It lumbered closer and closer, my brain screaming, but my feet refused to budge.
Run, damn you, run!
But I stood, as immobile as a statue, until I felt the thing’s breath on my face. It stopped,  somehow staring with black button eyes. A hand lifted, touching my shoulder. My body went cold and rigid and I screamed. When the sound of my fear faded, I heard its raspy voice speak, even though it’s painted smiling mouth didn’t open.
“Come with me.”
Only then did I bolt, wrenching away from its grasp, stumbling over my feet, racing through the dusky field and across the moonlit meadow. Running, running, always the dim edge of the field in sight, yet…
I glanced back. The scarecrow stood in front of the corn rows watching me. I tripped, falling to my knees. For a moment I closed my eyes. When I opened them I was back among the corn, the scarecrow a foot away.
What is happening?
The plants rustled and the scarecrow moved, kneeling down beside me.
“Stop running. Accept what is to come. What you lost.”
“Accept what?”
“You know.”
I shook my head, terror consuming me. The thing reached out a hand, but I shrank back. If it touched me again, I was done. I knew that.
“Stay away! Stay away!”
I crawled on all fours before scrambling to my feet and racing away from…
I don’t know. I don’t know. 
Whatever the thing was it would be the end of me if I let it near. It’s words triggered something in my head, a voice, almost like a hazy memory.
Time of death, 1:59 PM.


That's it until tomorrow, remember to hop on over to check out the other participant's offerings as well. And come back tomorrow for my dark poetry corner.

October Frights Blog Hop

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

The Word Whisperer

Hawk's Happenings

Carmilla Voiez Blog

M'habla's!

CURIOSITIES

Frighten Me

Winnie Jean Howard

Always Another Chapter

Balancing Act

James P. McDonald

greydogtales

Looking for some new books? Check out our October Frights Spooktacular

October Frights 2019 Begins!

Welcome to the October Frights Blog Hop!

It's that time of year again when the blog gets all creepy and spooky and the creatures of the night come out to play. It's time for October Frights. This year during the hop week I'll have some stories for you, some new book covers, some poetry and lots of ghosts and ghouls. So pull up and chair and get comfortable, but be sure to leave the lights on...

We kick things off with a blast from the past and a little story I wrote a while back. Settle in for a strange spooky tale ...

Leaking Out

Drip, drip, drip.

The sound dances with the sunbeams streaming through the bedroom window. It’s a rhythm, a mind-numbing vibration of liquid striking metal. Such a strange sound to hear in the morning, the drip, drip, drip of the tap.

Or is it the tap?

Maybe it isn’t a leak. Maybe it’s something else. Blood flowing through the veins of the house. Drip, drip, dripping someone’s life away. All oozing out over the sink. Or the floor.

I wonder why I thought that?

I smell coffee.

I’m in the kitchen.

How did I get here? I’m not sure. My memory plays tricks these days. Or maybe time is playing tricks. Either way, I’ve gotten used to it. Mostly. But the dripping noise is gone. Maybe it never was. Maybe it was in my head. Probably was. Too many things are in my head.

But I still smell coffee. And toast. He made breakfast. He always made breakfast when we were first married. Or maybe I did. No, that’s not true. He did. He was sweet in the beginning.

I don’t think he’s here anymore. I think he left. But I don’t know why. Why would he leave? None of this feels right. All I know is the house is empty. Shut up tight. It’s so quiet.

And there’s no breakfast on the table. Just dust.

We were happy.

I thought we were happy.

I must’ve been wrong.

Something must’ve been wrong.

Our happiness had cracks.

He didn’t love me.

Or he wouldn’t have… no, I won’t… he didn’t… couldn’t have… he left me?

No.

I left?

Drip, drip, drip.

I can hear it again. The wet noise.

It isn’t coming from the kitchen. It sounds like it’s coming from the bathroom.

But it may not be coming from anywhere, except my head. It’s hard sometimes to know.

I’m standing outside the bathroom door now. But I was just in the kitchen. Wasn’t I? I think I was. Maybe not.

I don’t want to be here. Why? Why do I want to run? Something happened in there? I think it did. My hand is shaking.

I’m afraid.

But I can still hear the dripping.

I open the door.

The room is empty. A cheerless room.

I look down.

The stain’s still there. It’s been scrubbed and scrubbed, but it wouldn’t come out of the tile. Where the blood dripped into the widening pool of red. Bright, bright red. The stain’s pinker now.

It’s even kind of pretty. If I forget what made it.

Blood. Too much blood.

Painted on my memory. Scarlet and screaming, and all jumbled with questions. Why's and how’s. I don’t have answers. I’m not sure I want answers. I might not like them. I’d rather forget. I like it best when I don’t remember it at all. Those are the best days.

But that’s not today. Today’s not a day when I don’t remember.

Today I know what happened.

Someone died.

No, someone was murdered.

I remember.

My husband murdered me.

So that ends today's post. Be sure to hop on over and check out the offerings of the other participants as well. Here's the list.

October Frights Blog Hop

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

The Word Whisperer

Hawk's Happenings

Carmilla Voiez Blog

M'habla's!

CURIOSITIES

Frighten Me

Winnie Jean Howard

Always Another Chapter

Balancing Act

James P. McDonald

greydogtales

Looking for some new books? Check out our October Frights Spooktacular

Halloween Week: Unconfined Delusions

Today we have a collection of creepy crawly things with a spotlight on a new release of horror stories, Unconfined Delusions, by author Angela L. Lindseth. Enjoy.

Unconfined Delusions, Beyond the Threshold by Angela L. Lindseth

Unconfined Delusions, Beyond the Threshold, contains snippets of fast-paced, twisted fiction. The stories question the morality of organ transplantation, corner you in a dank basement, and count down the last minutes before execution. Imagine a malignant aura wrapping its inky hands around your throat or fingernails searching for a vein. Don’t let your guard down because the next page might bite.

The words slither across the page, feed on insecurities, and corrupt dreams. Savor the weird deliciousness but read with the lights on. The land of Happily Ever After doesn’t exist behind this cover.

Unconfined Delusions is available at Amazon

Angela L. Lindseth’s first collection of flash fiction, Sanity’s Threshold: Slivers of a Twisted Mind, is also available on Amazon.

About the Author

Angela L. Lindseth was raised on the plains of South Dakota, and though she spent most of her life away, the draw of the Black Hills brought her back. She has a marvelous sense of humor, loves to sing, and has a great fondness for good beer. When not scrapbooking or making jewelry, she works on her dystopian novel, The Contraption, and writes flash fiction, some of which make her question her sanity.

Website  Facebook Page  Instagram

#October Frights Day Four: Spooky Story Time

Today it is time for some spooky stories, for those tales to read with the lights on, all about things that go bump in the night...

Spooky Storytime

Midnight in Purgatory

At the crossroads, beneath the half-moon and the undertone stench of brimstone, the shadows gathered. The breath of a witch's hiss and the cold touch of death spelled the air, while the mocking laughter of the damned echoed in the trees.

A sniffle, a groan, and the shuffle of footsteps down the road swirled past the night as a hunched figure walked along the dirt, circling the crossroads. A long black coat flapped against spindly legs, the collar turned to ward off the chill, and a floppy hat pulled low engulfed his features in silhouette. The sound of his scuffing feet against the dirt made a strange rhythm, a scraping beat pulsing into the black abyss. Round and round he walked, only looking up and slowing to a halt when another figure, a man, strolled down the road.

The new man stopped in the middle of the crossroads, the grin of the devil on his face, smack in the center of the circle traced by the feet of the figure in the long coat. The fresh arrival reached in a pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes and matches. He lit a smoke, shadows and nicotine vapour passing over his face. He licked his lips and spoke.

“My name’s Nick. Time to deal.”

“Such a rush.” The voice of the black-clad figure smacked the night with a hollow tone vibrating halfway between a rasp and a croak and holding a weariness of a dead man’s bones. “Savour the moment. Ain’t nothing like it going to come your way again soon.” A cracking noise that might have been a chuckle sounded, and then, “Besides, it’s been a long time since I seen you. I want a good long look this time.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed and he sneered. The cigarette dropped and he squashed it under his shoe. “I know you, old man? We do a deal before? Because you can’t sell your soul twice, not even to the devil.” Nick laughed.

“Oh, we’ve met. A while back, but I didn’t sell my soul to you.” The figure in black lifted his head, a pale, gaunt face staring at Nick. For a moment it almost seemed his eyes glinted red under his hat. “That would be quite impossible, Nick, seeing you’re a fraud. You ain’t the devil.” A wicked grin lit the man’s face, and, for an instant, his appearance seemed… angelic. 
“I know you, Nick, back when your name was David and you ran two-bit hustles out of a revival tent. Back when you whispered your sins to the moon, and you came to another crossroads begging for a life that was wasting away from too much whiskey and cigarettes.” The man in black looked down at the dirt. “I see you never gave up that habit. Even after the cancer went away.”

“How did you…” Nick took a step back, the sneer and bravado gone and fear creeping across his face. “You've got no proof I did anything criminal.”

That cracking chuckle sounded again. “Of course, you done things criminal. Lined your pockets with other people’s money, lied, cheated, and things far worse to damn your soul. You and I know that. For the longest time, you were my favourite.”

A wisp of air, foul and hot, escaped his lips on the edge of a sigh. “But I can’t forgive this. You give the Devil his due, you don’t steal his thunder.” A smile flickered on his lips as the sky streaked wide with a booming noise and a flash of lightning.

Nick jumped and stumbled back against the edge of the circle etched in the road. A hot burst of fire and burning pain seared through cloth and flesh and Nick screamed. He jerked and fell forward on his face, before rolling onto his back with a whimper. “Who are you?”

The figure in black doffed his hat and gave a little smile. “Now, I’m hurt you don’t remember. Fifteen years ago you sold me your soul for good health and a charmed new life. Name’s Lucifer. And it’s time for me to collect what you owe.”

The crossroads circle erupted in a wall of hellfire, damnation and fresh new screams, followed by a trail of laughter. When the smoke and stink cleared, only charred ash and burns littered the road and the small echo of a man’s lost soul.

~*~

Waiting

The wind coughed dust along a dry parched riverbed, long devoid of water. The swirling gusts scraped and buried my bones, my decayed body losing its battle with the elements and time. The breeze and scattering dirt made the only noise in this curse-drenched corner of the world. All other life had long since fled or lay buried with me. I watched the last gleam of bleached white remains disappear under the unrelenting sand, still tied to the corpse of what I used to be. For now at least. That would change soon.

The earth had finally swallowed my bones and they would be coming.

I heard them out there in the distance. Had for some time. Drifting on the edges of the wind. The dark winged beasts, the curse-bringers, the carrion eaters of the soul. They were the ones that led me here to die. Soon, they would show themselves and my curse will reach its end.

The last of me would disappear into the darkness.

And we also have a giveaway!

The October Frights Giveaway

For more October Frights Blog Hop

#OctoberFrights: After Death

Welcome to Day Three of the October Frights Blog Hop.

Today I have two flash fiction stories about death, and the consequences about lingering beyond your allotted time. Enjoy...

Leftover

I died yesterday.

A heart attack, I think. I remember a pain in my chest, down my arm, and not much else. I saw a flash of a hospital, maybe an operating room, and a voice saying, “time of death, 11:04 AM”.

That’s when I woke up here.

In my own bed.

Yet… it’s not the same place.

It is so silent here, a vast empty nothing of stillness. And I have no voice. I can’t talk, I can’t cry, I can’t even scream. The world around me is painted in shades of grey, a shrouded space of perpetual twilight. The air is cold and heavy, and it feels like it’s pressing on me.

I can see the other world, the world of the living I suppose, like watching through dirty glass. I can see my husband crying when he’s alone. I think I can reach out and touch him. I know I can, I can feel it. I want to reach out… I need to reach out…

He’s right there.

Waiting.

I need to feed.

I’m so, so hungry.

~*~

  

Eternal

Death hates me.

Why else would I still be here? Waiting.

When I’m finally ready.

Perhaps it’s my own fault, a taste of my own feckless behavior. So many times I smiled at him, made him wait for me, promised I would come to him. Then I slipped by him with a smile, another deal for more years, another life stolen to prolong mine.

How many millennia did I cheat him of what I owed?

I lost count. I’d wager he knows.

I thought forever would never get stale.

I had such hubris.

Youth and beauty for eternity, laughing at Death as he chased me.

Always winning.

Always laughing.

Until it stopped being amusing.

I thought the game would last.

I thought he loved me.

Until he refused to play anymore.

Now I am alone.

Waiting for Death.

Why won’t he come for me?

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved 

Don't forget to enter the giveaway!

October Frights Book Giveaway!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

And for more October Frights fun check out the other sites on the hop.