The Weekly Round-Down. (No.13) Halloween Edition.

How gleefully apt, that Halloween falls on the thirteenth edition of this post. I hope you all have lovely plans for Halloween. Here in England, it's as glum as our government. Kids knocking on the door expecting money, dressed as teenagers. It's my Nan's birthday today... I remember, when I was a young whipper-snapper, my Nan was still my best friend. In her closet, she kept a broom all year round, claiming that she was a witch. No, some twenty-odd years later, watching her pinch my last Eccles cake, I'm still inclined to believe her. I went around to see her and gave her our Halloween book, in which I wish her happy birthday. Definitely beats a card.
Rather than tell you about my week this week, I think we'll keep it to a minimum. It's been good. There, that's done.

During the aftermath of our Halloween release, we are sorting out getting some of the paperback copies sorted to be signed by each of us, which is awesome. I really can't describe how awesome it has been working on this project. So my thanks go to Nav, Ava, Rick and Ken for allowing me the pleasure of working with them, especially as I was the junior author amongst them. Though this book may be short and written in under three months, I consider it an achievement to have worked with four fantastic authors. So to celebrate Happy Halloween, which you can get (Here). I'd also like to present four drabbles written by each of us for this occasion, so enjoy...

The Feast by C.S. Bailey

The 31st of October is Halloween. But for me, it’s known as the feast. I am the ghost that haunts your room at night, the demon that hides under your bed or the clown that scares you to death.
Dressed in my clothes or what you would call a costume I head into the dimly lit streets of my neighbourhood looking for treats.
Banging on the doors of houses; clattering my hands against the windows and ringing the bells recklessly. I want people to know I’m coming for them.


Until, my mother grabs my hand and tells me to behave.

Burning Down the House by Nav Logan

The dry timber crackled into life, starting with the flaming brand and quickly becoming an inferno. Soon, the heat became as hot as the depths of Hades.

The spirits which had dwelled for so long in the ancient timbers of the house, shrieked their protest. Their sanctuary was being destroyed.

They clung desperately to their past lives, wanting to remain in the land of the living, but the hooligans in a rash moment of drunken stupidity had evicted them from their home.

Now the ghostly spirits were released into the night.

They would seek retribution for this act of vandalism.

TIME TO PARTY by Rick Haynes

Padding silently through the dense foliage the werewolves sought a high point to observe their quarry.
As the dancing at the Halloween party reached a frenzy, they sensed that a golden opportunity awaited them below.

Razor-sharp teeth gleamed in the moonlight as they saw their prey exposed in the intense disco lights. Their howls would soon ring out as human flesh and blood would once again fill empty stomachs.

A huge bang; the crowd screamed; the darkness total.

As the evil creatures raced towards their feed, bright lights suddenly exposed them.

“Bollocks! Cut! Cut! Cut! Whose bloody mobile just rang?”

Happy Halloween! by Lady A. K. Michaels

Just a few short hours until my favourite time of the year. A measly amount of time and then I can roam free, search out some sustenance without the fear of detection. How stupid these humans are, not knowing the difference between a costume and a real monster in their midst. All the better for me. Blood and brains...my nectar! My heart beats madly in my chest with excitement as my trusty hound waits, anticipating my letting him lose on my victims. After all, an attack by a wild beast covers up my...proclivities! Happy Halloween everyone!

Also, as an extra treat, here is a short story by Mandy Dowson titled The Raven.

The throne was a monstrosity of twisted and contorted bones.  The sharp pain of a splintered femur stabbing her thigh was almost enough to bring a grimace to her face.  Almost, but not quite.  She smiled, her lips stretching thin, exposing a set of perfect pearly whites, and she nodded once, decisively.  The time was at hand, the moment was now, and revenge would be hers.
Distantly, her mind recalled her previous splendour, as in a dream it seemed to be a wispy and uncertain thing.  She had been glorious.  She had been golden and beautiful and undamaged.  Once.

As if to torment her, the sudden vision of the past shone e’er brighter in her mind, flashing in wonderful and terrible snippets she named Regret, Shame, and Betrayal.
This is all that is left to me, she thought, letting her eyes wander the vast hall stuffed to bursting with all manner of perversity and pain.  There in a corner, a rutting couple repeatedly stabbed and jabbed with dagger and spear.  Here, a rotting corpse, still shockingly sentient, pleaded with its ghastly maw of a mouth.  For release or for mercy, it mattered not, neither were to be had here.
She had Fallen, yes.  Fallen from grace and all that was pure and perfect.  Her crucible, a simple human man.  He tempted her so, and loved her not.  So guileless had she been, so blind to treachery that she hadn’t realized the peril she had placed her soul into until it was far too late.  Sighing, she shifted on her throne of bones, relishing the sensation of pain as another bead of blood wound its way down the back of her calf.

So Fallen, she had been damned.  Banished to the realm of despair and madness and loss.  Hell, to be named correctly.  Many were the realms of Hell and legion were its guests.  The throne she perched upon made her the over-seer of this particular realm, but no less a guest herself.  The Realm of Scorned Lovers was generous to its guests, granting them each a boon, if they but ask.  Those with no desire for revenge were moved on, their visit here only transitory.  But for those like herself, who not only accepted their revenge but yearned, burned and existed for it, their stay was permanent.  The cost of their revenge was paid forever.  Though it mattered not to her.
So far from the gentle and loving being she had previously been, her desire for revenge drove her.  Only that, and nothing more.

“Come,” she whispered feverishly.  “Come and let me taste that which I most lust for.”
A flutter of wings, and the creature landed lightly upon her shoulder, whispering of the madness it would bring to its intended victim.  Eyes glistening with excitement, she softly stroked the beaked head of her pet, her instrument.
“Go forth,” she told it.  “And remind him of all he ever gave to me.”
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”

On the kindle this week, I have read two wonderful short stories. The shorter of the two, titled The Ghost Writer by our very own Bryan Thomas was a very humorous look at celebrity culture. So if you hate all that celebrity nonsense as much as I do, you can check it out here. The second was a lovely children's tale by the talented Jolie. You can check that out here.

I won't post my top 15 but I will tell you that my favourite Halloween song is 'Kidnap the Sandyclaws' by KoRn. It's off the Nightmare before CHRIStmas soundtrack.

I hope you all have a wonderful day! I just found out that our Rick Haynes is a Grandparent, so congratulations to you Mr. Rick!

Happy Halloween!