According to the character in this story “if you can find a refuge away from the world, where people know you, where you feel comfortable enough to be yourself, that can be family enough.” For him that might be a comforting statement, but the place where he finds it is anything but comfortable.

A toast to Yellow Mama, the webzine that first published the tale back in December 2018.

All You Can Drink $5.00

by DL Shirey

I did a double-take at the sign on the door, to make certain I’d read it correctly. Who could blame me for checking, given my lousy day so far? I’d lost a good account, my phone died and I was stuck in a strange town overnight with nothing but a cut-rate motel room in my immediate future. Cheap drinks sounded like a good way to end a bad business trip.

I reached for the door handle when a man crashed through. Clearly drunk, he staggered forward, trying not to lose his footing. He was dressed as I was, in a blue suit and tie; but that’s where the similarities ended. He looked twenty years my senior and his suit had scuffs and stains, the sleeves and cuffs worn to frays. He hadn’t shaved in days.

Wild eyes met mine and his mouth unhinged to speak. Then a bull of a man shouldered through the door and grabbed the man by the collar.

“I’ll show you how to finish what you started,” Bull snorted.

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Horror Tree is a valuable resource for authors of speculative fiction, with news and information about publishers and markets. They also post writers’ stories in the editor’s weekly column, Trembling With Fear. In December 2018 they published my short story “Faithful,” a tale of technology being used in the wrongest way possible. Also available in an anthology on Amazon US (Kindle or paperback) and Amazon UK (Kindle or paperback).

Faithful

by DL Shirey

The first blue of morning came before Lowell looked at the sky outside his window. The phone in his hand lit in azure, prompting the middle-aged man to get out of bed. His fingers were combing back the memory of hair when the white letters appeared on the blue background:

*faithful*

Lowell swept his legs out from under the sheet and placed his feet onto polished oak, feeling the cold wood floor. His new morning ritual was all about feeling, connecting to his emotions and embracing what the daily word truly meant. Be in the moment, the Master had said, feel this moment. But all Lowell could feel now was a scratching need for coffee and the chill of a bachelor’s bedroom before the heater kicked in.

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In this story, an intriguing character named Alice has a disturbingly peculiar talent. I always thought she might make an appearance in another story. If she does, remember, you saw her here first. Originally published by Danse Macabre.

Webs of Flesh

by DL Shirey

The low winter sun burned a dull spot in the cloudy gray crust, the barest halo in search of an angel. She won’t be found by day, only at night below Kendall Bridge.

At noon I strolled above the same river as the night before. The water was high and muddy from runoff following heavy rains, the surface so thick with silt it didn’t reflect the city skyline to my left. To the right, warehouses stacked on end like fallen dominos. I retraced my steps down a narrow walkway of the train bridge to a stairwell caged in chicken wire.

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When the story was originally available for purchase as an eBook, the publisher wrote a nifty “dust jacket” description: A young man is out spreading the word of the Lord, despite the heat and his own weariness. He comes across a strange couple at a strange house, and finds his faith faltering as their oddly calm demeanor and intimate knowledge of things catches him off guard. Determined, he redoubles his efforts, only for them to offer him a deal – they simply want to play a simple game… First published by Branching Realities in February 2019. Unfortunately the publication is no longer available.

FIVERS

by DL Shirey

When I met the Devil his wife spoke first. “Mornin’,” she said to me. Then to him, “Here’s the last of them.” She had on oven mitts and held a steaming colander. Her white hair wasn’t long enough to stay behind the knot of fabric behind her collar, so Mrs. Devil tried to blow the wayward strands away from her face. She rocked back and forth, a little dance of impatience, while she waited for his response. She met my eyes again. I had just approached the porch and was standing on a weedy patch of lawn.

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Ever wake up not knowing where you are? The character in this story does and the good folks at Fiction On The Web brought you the tale, originally published in November 2018.

Gunslinger

by DL Shirey

I flinch awake. My shoulder blade sears, the afterburn from a dream. Everything but the pain evaporates, leaving half-remembered threads: a horse thief, face pressed in dirt, a boot on the back of his neck. My neck. Arm wrenched up an instant before feeling the red heat of metal; a branding iron hissing skin.

The dream is displaced by another unreality: I don’t know where I am. There’s a trail of ants on a bedside table converging on an ashtray and a half-sucked peppermint. Alongside it an empty Jäger bottle, a lighter and pack of smokes. The first inhale tells me this isn’t my brand. When I kick away the ratty blanket and curl my legs off the bed, the floor comes too quickly. The mattress and box spring have no frame beneath them. Between knees I see my nakedness, cement floor and a spent condom.

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