When the Leaves Fall Paul Melniczek Bad Moon Books Trade Paper, 100 pages, $15.00 Review by Sheila M. Merritt When the Leaves Fall is a slight book in terms of length and story. Yet author Paul Melniczek infuses the slim tale with eloquent passages that flesh out the bones of the narrative. The plot can be thus distilled: One Halloween, a youth discovers that Graver's Farm has horrifying secrets; he reveals that "Something terrible was happening in our small town. Something evil, beyond my understanding." The young man flees the community after acknowledging an evil which holds his hometown hostage. Ten years later, at the same time of year, he decides a confrontation is in order. In an unavoidable embracing of echoes of the past, the protagonist muses: "October; the dark season. And the inevitable holiday that waited patiently at the end of the orange and black month, its mouth smelling of cinnamon and bonfires, skeletal arms ushering cold evenings and longer nights, the firefly eyes promising mischief and magic." Facing realities can have a backlash, and the first person narrator warns of the perils of curiosity; the danger inherent in tying up loose ends. The novel harkens back to a theme explored in H.G. Wells' The Time Machine and Ira Levin's The Stepford Wives. In both books, a group is reduced to apathy; either by socialization (Wells) or replication/replacement (Levin.) The mind control that prevails in Melniczek's rendering is darker and more primal. When the Leaves Fall lovingly regards a season that is fascinating to the young. And also looks at the blacker and bleaker components which lie beneath the magic. Paul Melniczek lulls the reader into the seductive spell of fall, and then shakes him or her by the shoulders; reminding that cruel winter is lurking just around the corner. The reality is harsh, but the seduction is oh so sweet: "Leaves had begun their slow, patient glide to death weeks ago; and now September was just a recent memory, as October wrapped the landscape in its dusky arms and stole its life, peeling away the summer flowers and snatching away the burnt orange and yellow leaves, pulling them to the ground where they dried into husks and shriveled away." This novella is indeed laconic but extremely expansive in depth; the dimension belies the brevity.

Jokers Club Gregory Bastianelli JournalStone Trade Paper, 202 pages, $11.95 Review by Sheila M. Merritt "He loved writing horror stories, loved letting his imagination loose where it would reach its tentacles out into the world and gather up the dark twisted things that existed out there in the night." Crystallized in that quote, author Gregory Bastianelli reaches into the heart of horror scribes and readers alike; and squeezes hard. In his novel Jokers Club, Bastianelli blazes into Stephen King territory: an It-like premise of youths who share a terrible secret and reunite years later. He also indulges in ambiguity that would make Henry James beam with pride. The narrative vacillates between the supernatural and psychological; depending on how one chooses to interpret the words of the protagonist - a writer with a facility for fabrication, and a brain tumor. Psychic games abound: The deck seems stacked against the main character, and the joker is indeed wild. The story simmers with a febrile intensity which comes to a boil several times during the course of the yarn. What's real and surreal meld as guilt and repressed feelings surface, culminating more in chaos than catharsis. Severely ill Geoffrey Thorn is grasping at straws and memories. An unpublished writer from New Hampshire, he returns to his hometown after living in New York City where he had hoped (and failed) to ignite inspiration. At a reunion with the boyhood friends who formed the Jokers Club, Geoff gets artistically stimulated. There is fertile material in the community; many local eccentrics and much history. It's the club, though, that sparks his creative core. Once again in the company of the comrades of his youth, Thorn is stirred by contrition to compose a tale based on a deadly incident. Boyish revenge went horribly awry. Geoff has long wondered if there wasn't a lethal calculation behind the nasty prank. Conjecturing about the past collides with mysteries of the present. Someone is murdering the remaining club members, and the serial killer could very well be one of them. Faulty recollections and misconceived perceptions cloud the protagonist's ability to process what is happening. The tumor may be causing hallucinatory fantasies; or perhaps it is merely Thorn exerting literally license. Such ambiguous possibilities permeate the narrative, which also has its share of irony. In a trenchant and reflective passage, a friend of Geoff analyzes the collapse of his marriage: "I think the real problem is that I love her, but I don't really like her. And I think she likes me, she just doesn't love me." The plot of Jokers Club is like Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None reinterpreted by Franz Kafka. This requires an intelligent equilibrium to be successful. Gregory Bastianelli accomplishes the symmetry without sacrificing the suspense. Rather like a sequence in the novel in which a house of cards is constructed, Bastianelli shrewdly knows how to achieve a complex and delicate balance. The consummation hinges on a holding of breath; carefully suspending the tenuous along with the tension.

Letterbox Cameron Trost Naked Snake Press, June 2011 Review by Matthew Tait There is a broad spectrum of dark fiction writers here in Australia who have been around for a lengthy time. Where others have dropped away after only few short years of surveying the landscape - there remains a loyal contingent of others who are here to stay - no matter what the publishing backdrop may look like at any given time. Cameron Trost is one such person - a writer who has spent many years diligently chipping away at the shorter form. In 2011 Naked Snake Press took notice of his emerging talent and published his debut novel Letterbox. Beginning with a prologue that gives us subtle clues and sketches out a monster in the making, we witness the genesis of evil in the form a child - one who, after a lifetime of bullying, uses his lofty intelligence to experiment on insects and how they cope with stress when pitted against external barriers. When the child's own external world continues to crumble, it isn't long before he begins to daydream of what it might be like to place a human being in lieu of his subjects... Cut to present day and the moors of Cornwell. Adjacent to these ancient lands sits the town of Mirebury - a miniscule English community where school teacher Ian Carew as decided to establish himself after leaving of London. His elderly neighbor, Mrs. Mary Hopkins, acts as kind of surrogate mother - while his best friend is the local butcher. Mirebury seems to fit the small town rural profile to a tea, and the only thing missing from Ian's life is a life-partner to share the adventure with. The set up is reminiscent of numerous horror/thriller outings, and after introducing us to many of the town's inhabitants, Trost begins to dollop on the dark happenings. At first it's a macabre keepsake placed in the letterbox of Mrs. Mary Hopkins - then a series of elusive break-ins. Soon other people are targeted and before long Mirebury begins to realize it is under the watchful gaze of a dark entity who is using them like puppets on a chessboard to pit neighbor against neighbor. Aptly nicknamed 'The Postman' by the townsfolk, they soon become fragmented as lines are drawn in the sand and no one is immune from suspicion. As a huge fan of Needful Things by Stephen King, the premise for Letterbox was always going to appeal to me. That particular foray was the ultimate Our Town dark testament that set off a chain of interlocking horrors through the redemption of trail, suffering, and forgiveness. Here, Trost treads a similar path - but imbues it all with an English verisimilitude. Does he succeed? For the most part, yes. The prose is narrow at first but quickly evolves - we can see Trost becoming a more confident storyteller as the tale progresses. If there was one criticism I could level at Letterbox it is the often sugary flavor of the town itself - Mirebury seems far too conservative and fictitious than any real life counterpart. And on occasion it's as though the author is drawing from other classic works to flesh out his municipality. That said, for a debut effort this is still highly accomplished - an impressive thriller and a satisfying parable of good versus evil. Editor's Note: Matthew Tait's novella Slander Hall - part of the Tales of Darkness and Dismay series - will be available free until the 5th of February. Get your free Kindle copy here: Slander Hall

The Red Empire and Other Stories Joe McKinney Redrum Horror, January 1, 2012 Review by Darkeva Redrum Horror is a fresh, exciting new imprint with a passion for horror fiction old and new. Although they plan to publish old favorites that have gone out of print or aren't widely available, they've also kicked off a line of new classics from writers like Joe McKinney, Gary Brandner, Jeremy C. Shipp, and more. The Red Empire and Other Stories features eight stories from horror scribe Joe McKinney, including the eponymous first story, "The Red Empire," which concerns a tribe of killer ants. This tale began a bit slowly for me and took some time before I got into it, but as it went further, the plot grew more interesting. Ants have gained the intelligence to kill and target people, and the military planned to use them as a weapon at one point, until they got out of control. I never thought ants could be used as objects of fear or antagonists in horror, but McKinney uses them effectively to illustrate the very real danger they pose here. But this is also the story of Casey, a girl with a degenerative eye disorder who is, for all intents and purposes, blind for most of the story, and her troubled but devoted mother, Amy. A convicted killer breaks into their house, and the tension goes up by a thousand notches. McKinney has a flair for writing from the points of view of characters who are real dirtbags, and the killer proves no exception. It's an interesting tale with a solid conclusion, and McKinney's post-story note lends a sense of intimacy with the author. He does this for the rest of the stories, as well, which adds a nice touch to the collection. The second story, "Blemish," starts with Scott, a police officer at the end of his career, and what drives him to that point, beginning with the sight of the corpse of a scantily clad teenage girl. Her eyes turn green, which reminds him of Angela Keller, a woman in his past whose death he feels guilty about although he had nothing directly to do with it. In college, he had an on-and-off relationship with another girl, Julie. On an "off" phase, he meets Angela, who he prefers in many ways, but she goes back to her ex and Scott naturally holds himself responsible. I found this story more engaging, easier to get into, and felt the same sense of being 'haunted' by Angela. He hears her saying she wishes she chose him, but Julie complicates things considerably, which makes for a more interesting story. Definitely a thought-provoking ending, as well. "Cold Case" is a true crime story about a cop from 1900 killed the second day of duty and for fans of shows like Cold Case Files or American Justice it will definitely have an appeal. My favorite story was probably "The Old Man Under the Sea," which is part historical fiction, and deals with the author Ernest Hemingway saving a girl from rape, only for the both of them to discover a shipwreck while frolicking on the beach. Hemingway feels real and fleshed out, and his love interest, Paulina, is vividly painted, shining in the tale and going beyond the usual limitations of her role. Paulina's dad makes Hemingway investigate the shipwreck further, and they discover a gateway that reminded me of a transporter. This one is a bit metaphysical and philosophical, and I liked it the most. Also interesting is "The Millstone," about a waitress, Roxy, who is grieving her recently deceased boyfriend, Frank, and coming to terms with everything with her sister, Jewel. It's a pretty violent story, but the most interesting parts come out with Jewel, who is definitely not what she seems, and as with all things, appearances can be deceiving. "Empty Room" takes a different route, shifting the locale to a haunted house with a couple who keeps hearing a crying baby, while "Burning Finger Man" explores the tenants of an apartment building complex taking matters into their own hands when it comes to a rapist who has been terrorizing the women and asking his victims, 'Does it burn?' which I found to be an effective device in amping up the creep factor. This story will make any police officer appreciate the 'downtimes' of his beat for sure. And the last tale, "Eyes Open" centers around two former police partners who deal with a guy, Mark, who is convinced that there's something bad coming to get everyone, which we learn is Nyarlathotep, presumably some Egyptian deity. One of the cops goes mad, but can't see his own madness until his old partner shows up and discovers just how bad things have really gotten. McKinney's years of experience in law enforcement make the stories of police officers a natural fit for his work, as the authenticity is something he never has to worry about; it's conveyed naturally through all aspects of his work, from characterization to dialogue, as well as the feel of his stories. And for the most part, although the supernatural does come into play in these tales, it's done in a more subtle way, and a refreshing aspect of the collection is that each story has something different to offer and showcases the author's strengths well. Redrum Horror has gotten off to a great start with this collection, and promises to deliver more high calibre contributions to the genre.

High Moor Graeme Reynolds Horrific Tales Publishing Review by Darkeva Perhaps with the exception of An American Werewolf in London, not much of werewolf fiction has been set in the UK, which is one of the things that makes author Graeme Reynolds's novel, High Moor unique, as it's set in Wales and the Yorkshire moors of England. The main character, John Simpson, is a reluctant werewolf who also works cases for the police, and has been hiding from his past, but it catches up to him when the case of Malcolm, a former schoolmate, comes up and John refuses to work it. Malcolm (who is a total wanker, by the way) is attacked by a werewolf one night when walking his dog, but the poor pet gets the worst of it while Malcolm flees. But the narrative structure changes from the present and we go back into the past for much of the novel, to 1986, to discover how all of this began and how werewolves came into the picture. As it turns out, the High Moor has a local legend about a beast who has terrorized the area for many years, and the residents definitely buy into it. There have also been sheep killings, and the police think those might be the handiwork of a puma set loose from the local zoo in the '60s. Poor John, his friends David and Michael and Mike's little sister Marie learn first-hand the truth behind the legends, but the author does a great job establishing the bond that the group of misfits share including a hatred toward Malcolm and his other bully friends. But their problems soon go beyond the group of bullies as it becomes clear to the police that they've got more than they can handle on their hands, and they need to bring in an expert, who comes in the form of Carl Schneider, an American who learned of lycanthropes during World War II when he was in Eastern Europe. Despite the somewhat dull passages of dialogue that Carl delivers about his life and how he came to find out about werewolves, he's a well-developed character with a personal stake of his own in the matter, which adds dimensions to the overall story. The werewolves in this novel are gypsies who have no choice but to take a vested interest in the lives of John and his friends once more werewolf attacks occur. The pacing, action sequences, and the pain of what John goes through are all very well-executed, with the reader always wondering how all of the events of the past will affect John's future, and when we return to the present, the more we see how much his past is intertwined with it and will have direct consequences on what happens. The twists and turns are fantastic and will keep you turning the pages eagerly, wanting to see how everything comes full circle. There are a few big reveals at the end that set things up perfectly for a sequel, should the author choose to release one, as well. If you're craving some good werewolf action with well-developed characters and a fantastic plot, skip the Hollywood films and go straight for this electrifying novel, which is far more entertaining.

The Devil's Coattails: More Dispatches from the Dark Frontier Jason V. Brock and William F. Nolan, Editors Cycatrix Press Hardcover, 294 pages, $49.95; $194.95 for the deluxe edition Review by Sheila M. Merritt It is extremely difficult to write a review of an expensive book based on a spartan uncorrected proof. The Devil's Coattails retails at $49.95 in its limited to 500 copies trade hardcover edition. For those who want to splurge even more, there's the deluxe printing: limited to 52 signed and lettered copies at a whopping $195.95. Is the cost justified? Based on the no-frills, spiral bound reviewer's version, what can be said is that the stories contained in the volume are generally very worthwhile. And the black and white illustrations (which according to the notes in the table of contents, are only available in the deluxe edition; there is no statement regarding if they are reprinted in color) are striking. Masterpieces of horror by Goya and Munch, along with less familiar artists' works, are exhibited. As with the artwork, the writers represented in the tome range from the eminent to the not as well known. This makes for a well-balanced compendium, a variety of creative voices diverting in their diversity. Writer Oscar Wilde and painter Frank Miles are employed as characters in "The Hidden Realm" by W.H. Pugmire and Maryanne K. Snyder. The 19th Century historical figures were indeed comrades in real life. The relationship between the talented twosome was possibly, given Wilde's well known proclivities, sexual. There are allusions in the narrative that hint at this, with Miles being tormented by visions that both repulse and attract him; in reality, he did go insane. In this work of fiction, Frank is confronted by perceptions and realities that demand interpretation: "Particles of darkness wheeled around him, like dust that danced with dust - and then the particles formed into faces that that laughed and sneered. He snatched at one of the cruel visages and caught it in his hand, and he felt it crumple like a dry dead leaf in his grasp. Something kissed his face, and a pair of silver eyes gazed into his own. The face to which the eyes belonged was no longer beautiful - it was bestial, horrible; it overflowed with menace and madness. Frank pushed away and swam through shadow, until he came at last to a place of sanitary light." Love, parenthetically homosexual, is also addressed in "If You Love Me" by Paul G. Bens. The protagonist of the story is pushed to the extreme in proving his passion/devotion to his lover. This tale cuts deep into co-dependency. A disturbing and probing look at the dark side of commitment, the yarn looks at the lethal power of love and loyalty abused. An alliance gone awry is also examined in Melanie Tem's "Best Friends." Tem's first person narrator asks a profound question: "Why aren't there more love songs and poems about best friends? They're who can really break your heart." She goes on to elucidate, that even after years of contented matrimony, it is a friendship that haunts: "From a long, rich, good marriage I can't summon a single thought of him. Michelle, though, is shimmering in the archway between the living room and dining room, opaque and multidimensional as betrayal." The contrast between an easy alliance with a spouse, and the mercurial demands of a friend are beautifully rendered in this tale. The author reminds that what is facile is often forgettable; we tend to remember the drama - and the emotion. In Earl Hamner's "The Woods Colt," uneasy interactions and unfulfilled affinities again come into play. A son returns to his former home, and gazes at his deceased parents' house, which he has sold: "The once gracious Victorian mansion now had a haunted look. Ancient ivy plants that had been carefully trimmed when he was a boy now clung in thick gnarly trunks to the shingled walls forming a dense, green covering. One of the upstairs windows had been broken. Behind it, a lace curtain moved fretfully in the wind." The denouement of Hamner's piece allows for the dreaded word, "closure." This is not the case in R.C. Matheson's humorous and, acutely short, short story "Interrogation." In this yarn, an eyewitness to a brutal, violent crime is questioned. Remaining silent through the query session, the non-responsive observer frustrates the inquisitors. Clever and cagey, Matheson plays and has fun in the process. The Devil's Coattails includes works by horror favorites such as: Ramsey Campbell, John Shirley, William F. Nolan, Gary A. Braunbeck, Nancy Kirkpatrick, Steve Rasnic Tem, and the late Dan O' Bannon. In general, the 21 contributions contain a photo and information about each author, as well as the writers' musings about the genesis of their pieces. As to the price of the volume: It is steep, and the deluxe edition is obviously geared to collectors. Is the book recommended reading? Yes, but the expense limits the readers to an exclusive bunch of bibliophiles.

Lost in Darkness Jeffrey Thomas Bad Moon Books Trade Paper, 152 pages, $16.95 Review by Sheila M. Merritt Ah, adolescence: the betwixt and between. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered; especially at twilight; and hey, ain't supernatural love grand? Lost in Darkness author Jeffery Thomas not only embraces the agony and ecstasy of adolescence - he French kisses it. Swoony with barely suppressed desires and other seductive horrors, Thomas plays to the 'tweens and teen in us all. While probably aimed at the popular young adult market, Lost in Darkness has appeal beyond it. Recalling that facial blush, and the blood rush to the ears and alternative sensory zones, reminds of those endearing young charms. And, when the otherworldly is involved - oh my, the possibilities are endlessly rapturous. Dana Tower is a lovely adolescent out on Halloween, trick-or-treating with two contemporaries, a girl and guy. Said guy is covertly enamored of Dana, and the girl is an argumentative Goth with attitude. During the course of the evening, personality and posturing lead to an accident. Dana is hit by a car and suffers serious brain injury. While in a nether state of consciousness, she connects with three evil unearthly entities, and one celestially fine fellow. They follow her back to earth as she recovers. One of the malevolent trio assumes the guise of a dark-haired hottie male. Needless to say, the protagonist and her gal pal are both attracted to it/him. On the side of light, is the predictably blond angelic ghost who is also extremely alluring. Dana is drawn to the two opposites for different reasons; although the bottom line, so to speak, is rather basic. Libido may be all well and good while simultaneously being down and dirty, but Dana does periodically come up for air. And with a clarity of vision unusual for one of her years and hormones, she fights the noble battle against the nasties who want to infiltrate our dimension with their diabolical takeover. Spoiler: Actual soul kissing is the means of achieving their nefarious goal. But the same application applies to aiding the spiritual and soulful blond cupcake. Sigh and surrender? Yes! Seldom has the term "no brainer" been so literally appropriate. The dark fantasy side of Steven Spielberg comes to mind in this horror-lite look at untested youth confronting creatures with baleful intentions. A sequence with a demonic teddy bear is reminiscent of the clown toy in Spielberg's/Tobe Hooper's movie Poltergeist: "As she watched his cute, harmless face, his little smile grew wider. His mouth opened to grin at her. It was full of multiple rows of sharp teeth, like the jaws of a shark. Dana wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth the darkness poured down her throat like a liquid ... black waters that were drowning her. She began to wave her arms in panic. She saw those purple glowing eyes coming closer to her. The grin of sharp teeth kept growing wider ... wider." The title Lost in Darkness may be interpreted as a metaphor for sifting through the complicated dynamics of passion, loyalty, uncertainty, and acceptance. The character of Dana Tower is a tough and sweet chick. She can square her shoulders, yet is not immune from going weak in the knees. Jeffrey Thomas infuses her with youthful exuberance and dogged determination; reminding us that challenges, mysterious or mundane, can be fulfilling and rhapsodic.