This is the second novella I’ve read in the last few months that Mark Steensland had a hand in, the first one being In The Scrape. It’s also the second of the two that I’ve had no compunction about giving five stars to.

Jimmy the Freak has a bit of an Of Mice and Men feel to it, but it only shares a handful of certain beats. Namely the aspect of two men traveling together, one being a bit of a schemer, the other being disabled. After that, this story diverges on its own path.

Mike, the schemer, is paired up with Jimmy, this story’s Lenny, out of necessity on the surface, but we learn there is a bit more to it than that. Mike is a very flawed character, but we find ourselves hoping that all comes out okay in the end anyway. Jimmy also has a particular set of skills that drive the story forward, and although this concept is introduced early on, the way it is done is best discovered by the reader, rather than disclosed by the reviewer.

The story in Jimmy the Freak is good. The characters are great. The characters are alive, and I found myself smiling all too often at their interactions and dialogue. It’s not all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows for our protagonists. Actually, almost none of it is, but Colyott and Steensland make us care deeply about everything that happens to Mike and Jimmy. Even though we don’t get a traditionally happy ending, I loved the direction it took me in.

I can’t even put into words how thrilled I get when I open up a novel where I know I’m going to find an evil house inside. Oh, and the house is located in a town that is not all it seems on the surface? Sign me up. At a glance, Cailyn Lloyd has created a story that is going to remind the reader of various incarnations of the Amityville Horror. Lloyd knows this, alludes to it at points, and uses it to her advantage.

Shepherd’s Warning introduces a fair few characters all at once early on, and I found myself looking back a few times to set in stone who was who, which people were married, and which ones were siblings. Although the author asks a lot of us at the beginning, by page 30 or so I had it straight and had established an understanding of all characters who would be crucial going forward. I would urge readers who find the first few chapters confusing to push on, and you will be rewarded.

Shepherd’s Warning is a story that I would describe as a slow burn. We spend a long time getting to know Laura, our main character, and her family. They’ve just moved to an inherited farmhouse in Wisconsin, and are restoring it to live in. During this time, discoveries are made, secrets formed, relationships strained, and drama ensues. The supernatural even seems to take a backseat for a while.

When we reach the final 80 pages or so, the slow burn moniker is ditched with gusto, and everything goes off the rails. The events in the last act most definitely go in ways I was not anticipating, and bravo, because the author kept me on my toes all the way to page 391.

A note on the titular character, Shepherd. Cailyn Lloyd has crafted a truly interesting character here, who story is revealed a little bit at a time as the book proceeds. I won’t say much about him, because discovery is half the fun here, but I would have no opposition to reading more happenings in the life and times of this character. Given that Amazon has this book listed as Book 1 in the Elders series, I am hopeful this is a real possibility.

The book feels a little overlong in the middle section, but thumbing through upon writing this review, there are no parts that are obviously extraneous. This may be singular to my reading experience, and readers going forward may not find the same. I enjoyed my time spent at the MacKenzie House, and I can’t wait to see what else Cailyn Lloyd has in store.

I was given a copy of this book by the author for review consideration.

I know there are people out there who skip author's notes and introductions on short story collections. If that's you, make an exception this time. I, myself, have read the odd introduction that ran in circles for 20 pages and has me tapping my foot with impatience to get to the meat. In the introduction to Metamorphosis , author Claire Fitzpatrick lets us know that the stories we're about to read are the results of paranoia and neurotic thoughts related to bouts with epilepsy and borderline personality disorder. As a result, the stories are honest, unyielding, and snapshots of a very specific time in the author's life.

I'd like to lead off by letting you know that if body horror is not your cup of tea, there is quite a bit of material in this collection that may not be up your alley. Potential readers may like that Fitzpatrick opens with two stories, Madeline and Eat, that give you an idea of just how intense the experience is going to be.

Body horror is not necessarily my favorite genre, but we see it mixed well here with tales of revenge and/or comeuppance, or even with coming-of-age and self-acceptance. The title story Metamorphosis is an excellent example of the latter. Synthetic might be the best showing in this sub genre, and contains a little of both.

While there is plenty of the supernatural and horror in extremis on display, there are many displays of simply evil (everyday) people. The Dog showcases this magnificently, and I hate to admit I found myself mollified by the eventual ending.

My two favorites from the collection are Jacaranda House and Andromeda. Jacaranda House offers a unique and spookular take on the haunted house story, which anyone who comes here regularly will know, is my favorite horror genre. Andromeda reads almost as a very short novelette, broken into chapters. This story deals with humanity's inclination toward manifest destiny, and the particularly alien consequences. Fair warning, you might find yourself agreeing with the alien reasoning, but the author does a masterful job of painting the human protagonist, and she very much has our empathy.

While some stories stuck with me more than others, there is never a dull moment in Metamorphosis. A second heads up that this collection is graphic and disturbing at times. It's also honest, and above all raw. Something that fiction could occasionally use a pinch of. If that sounds like something you can deal with, then give Claire Fitzpatrick's collection a shot.



Silver Shamrock is a relatively new publisher making waves in the horror community with some very well-received titles like Cricket Hunters by Jeremy Hepler and In the Scrape by James Newman and Mark Steensland. It also doesn't hurt that one of their first releases is this anthology, Midnight in the Graveyard. The collection contains 25 stories, centered mainly around ghosts, featuring one of the most all-star casts I've seen compiled in a table of contents. If that doesn't sway you, the whole thing kicks off with an introduction from Jonathan Janz.

When invited to partake in such an anthology, I like to feel like I'm showing up for the marquee names, but getting equally jazzed about the new acts. Shannon Felton gets the motor going with Devil's Dip, plodding into some friends did/saw something years ago and now it's back to haunt them territory. Felton puts a great twist on this trope, and has a debut coming out on Silver Shamrock that I'll now be on the lookout for. Kenneth McKinley's The Glimmer Girls is also a standout, eschewing traditional ghosts for something altogether more monstrous, and working mainly because of its' period setting. Brian Moreland's Swamp Vengeance is a whole lot of fun and benefits from taking us to a pretty different locale.

Equally exciting for me is an excuse to read stories by authors I keep hearing great things about but just haven't had the chance to read yet. Justin's Helper by Jeremy Hepler has one of the best endings/reveals in the book. Dog Days by Kenneth Cain greatly benefits from its presentation, telling us the history of the featured house by letters, journal entries, texts, etc. It's very well-done and quite effective. Cool Cats by William Meikle is a feel-good story in its own quite twisted way. Who doesn't love when bad things happen to bad people? Another writer I've put on my wishlist due to their work in this collection is Glenn Rolfe, whose story New Blood, Old Skin, is very clever and a bit of a send-up to anyone who has ever asked an author why they write horror.

Of course, one expects the familiar names to come through as well. That's why they're familiar. Chad Lutzke unquestionably delivers in Tug o War, and in typical Lutzke-fashion leaves the reader ruminating long after the story is over. Hunter Shea's Drown expands on characters he has written previously, adding a fun and interesting new chapter to their adventures. Bettor's Edge by Tim Meyer gives us a (sort-of) haunted hotel room, a place where the barrier between worlds is a bit thin. Scary stuff indeed. Kealan Patrick Burke wraps it all up with Portrait, which is very typical of his writing style. That is to say, there's an atmosphere of dread, but beauty shines through in the prose, and it puts the perfect cap on Midnight in the Graveyard.

There are also some really enjoyable stories from Catherine Cavendish, Ronald Kelly, Lee Mount, and Robert McCammon but writing about every little thing I liked in here would make the review almost as long as the book. There are a few skips present, but in a themed collection with 25 entries, it's bound to happen. Silver Shamrock has set the bar high with this first collection, and I'm already on board for Midnight in the Pentagram, the follow-up currently in progress. Meanwhile, Midnight in the Graveyard is sending up a signal. We should all be on the lookout for what Silver Shamrock has in store for us next. Make some room on your shelf, my friends.

3.5 stars rounded up for Goodreads.

This book offered a take on an end-of-the-world type plague that almost makes you snicker at first, but is increasingly terrifying as you go along. In Waiting Out Winter, death comes via a single bit from an infected fly. Zombies, you can barricade yourself away from, but a fly? No matter how airtight you think you’ve sealed yourself in, there’s always going to be the chance one gets in.

This is where Kelli Owen injects a lot of the horror into this story. There is an especially tense and well-written scene in which a character attempts to find a fly in the darkness, knowing they must kill it before it can bite them. I also liked the added danger in this created world where the sickness turns animals into rabid, hungry beasts, adding another layer of danger for an already tenuous group of survivors.

I will rarely fault a novella for being too short, and generally don’t care for reviews that do, but this is largely dependent on the author packing a complete story into my short time spent with them. This book in its complete form felt like chapter one in an apocalyptic epic. Owen lets us know that the story continues in the Hatch, but as a reader, I felt like this portion of the story had a little more to tell me.

Waiting Out Winter also does a fair bit with the survivors we spend our time with. There was room for them to be more fleshed out, but I had no problem empathizing when bad things happen, both with the character it happens to and the characters left to deal with the aftermath. A sure sign that the groundwork was laid, whether I noticed or not.

Truth be told, I will almost certainly pick up The Hatch. I know these survivors already, and there’s nothing I hate worse than spiders.

Full review at https://deadheadreviews.com/2019/11/01/review/

I love a story where I can assign or identify a what-if. For instance, what if James Bond was a werewolf, or what if an entire town were trapped within a dome. What would happen and what would the ramifications be? In the case of Patrick Lacey's A Voice So Soft, we explore what if the songs from the 60's, 70's, and 80's accused of containing subliminal satanic messages were real. How would these messages affect people, what would be the story behind them, and what would the endgame be.

This is the first book I've taken on by Pat Lacey, but I'm already looking at what's next. The author has a bit of a back catalog complete with some impressive collaborations. Based solely on my experience with this novel, there are two notable strengths Lacey demonstrates.

First, the story is streamlined. At 208 pages, it's the perfect length to fit the right amount of story. We get enough set up to understand the stakes and build the foundations for everything to come, without anything extra. Here's another book where the reader starts to panic fifteen pages from the end because how can we possibly wrap this up in a satisfying way in such a short time, but we're not let down. There's a bit of an open ending, and Lacey left himself the opportunity to write in this world again if he so chooses.

Second, the author is clearly having a blast writing this. When you, as a reader, can tell from the prose, the subject matter, the allusions, etc. that the storyteller had the time of their life writing this, you're going to enjoy the time you spend in that world. I'm very interested going forward to see whether this was a passion project, or if this is a feeling Lacey brings to all his work.

The main character, Shawna, is a teen with a hearing impairment who it's set up from the start, has always played second fiddle to her sister, the rising pop star. Shawna is well-developed and easy for the reader to attach themselves to. Angie, the sister, isn't quite as developed, but it feels like a very intentional choice for reasons that I won't go into here, but will become quickly evident to the reader. Some of the secondary characters that have their own arc or run parallel to the main story don't click quite as well, but it didn't really detract from the main narrative for me.

Also worth mentioning is the story being set in Salem, MA. I enjoyed this since it's about an hour north of me, but the town has such a historic notoriety that I believe it will resonate with readers everywhere. Realistically, the story could have been set anywhere, but putting it in Salem certainly adds another layer of interest. If you're into stories that have elements of music, witchcraft, cults, and third acts that go wildly off the rails, this book is likely for you. Enjoy.

I received a copy of this book from the author for review consideration.

Part two of the horror experience of the year is here, and I could not have been more excited to get my hands on it and find out what happens next. Book one was, inevitably, going to be a hard act to follow. John F.D. Taff did everything right to set up the story and give the readers astronomically high hopes for what this story could be and where it could go.

Water & Wind faced the tough task of continuing the journey of the characters that Taff endeared us to in just 100 short pages. It also ups the ante in a big way. In many big ways to be more accurate. Every story we began in book one is advanced as we begin to get some theories about what's going on. We don't have any solid answers yet, but that works in the series' favor. We are too early on to get a straight answer, and the speculation certain characters put forth with no way to confirm makes the immense situation that much more terrifying.

Book two continues book one's breakneck pacing with so much happening in 120 pages. Somehow Taff squeezes in new characters with Reverend Hubert (whose opening chapter is one of the top 3 most intense experiences in the series thus far) and Monday, who I'm dying to learn more about in book 3. It seems like there may be more there than simply tragic back story.

The ongoing saga of Rich, Marcia, Charles, Wanda, and Glen driving their bus through the western U.S. is shaping up to be one of my favorite parts so far. The circumstances around their exit from Albuquerque are really going to stick with me.

If you've seen Taff referred to as the King of Pain, you're going to find out why in this book. I've heard Taff say in several interviews that his job is to make you care about these characters early on and then spend the rest of the time kicking the shit out of them. You've got to do what you're good at, right?

Something that has impressed me in both of these books is how Taff and his editor managed to put chapters up front that grab you by the collar and shake your ass around to bring you into the story. You're held there for the duration, and then the finals chapter (again, in both books) slaps you across the face and throws you on the ground. It almost seems shameful that you dust yourself off and ask for more.

If you loved book one, get into book two immediately. If you didn't read book one, get both, read both, and be thankful you didn't have to wait 6 weeks in between. Now begins the interminable wait for book three.



"Steve Stred writes dark, bleak horror fiction".

Yep, that's about the size of it. I certainly can't say I wasn't warned. Ritual is a story that contains I don't know how many pages because Mr. Stred refuses to number them. Combine that with a non-traditional way of formatting the paperback and you've got an unsettling approach to an unsettling story.

We follow the main character, Brad, as he trudges through his daily life anticipating the coming, and nominal, Ritual. The narration is presented in a very detached way, so the reader keeps their distance as things go from a little off to more debased to what in the name of Beelzebub's car keys am I reading?

The last 20 pages or so(again, an estimate), lift the train off the tracks and send it careening towards destruction and mayhem. We go from weird, messed up people to full-blown supernatural and mythological mania. After being relatively subdued throughout most of the book, the end gives us some truly horrifying and grotesque stuff to walk away with. Well played, Mr. Stred.


If you've read one of my reviews before, you've probably heard me mention once or twice how much I love the haunted house genre. Combine that with the fact that this is coming out of Silver Shamrock and the epic cover design from ElderLemon, and I was ready for this one to hit my shelf.
John Quick writes in a way that had me turning pages, and honestly it needs to be commended because I can't pinpoint exactly what is. The chapters aren't particularly short, the pacing isn't breakneck, it's certainly not a bullet thriller, and none of the other usual suspects that cause me to fly through a book rear their ugly heads.
I guess that only leaves the age-old I needed to find out what happens next.
The story centers on Katherine, a divorcee looking for a fresh start, and finding it in a house in a small Tennessee town. As you might suspect, the town doesn't warm to outsiders and we get an immediate vibe that it's more because of the address than the occupant. As the book unfurls we learn more about the history of the house and the history of Katherine as the two come to a head over the course of 325 pages.
Quick clearly worked hard to bring a strong female protagonist to life, and succeeds, but something felt off to me. Katherine has a tragic backstory, is likable enough, and shows herself to be strong throughout the story by refusing to abandon the house. The problem is that even with all this going, she feels like something of an amalgam of strong female characters, and gives off a one dimensional character vibe. Put it on me as a reader, but I had trouble feeling a connection to my lead here.
Alston House is very much a slow-burn horror story, and as mentioned before, it's very difficult to put down. I can't really think of any other books that so clearly demonstrate both those aspects. The revelations about the house's history and the finale are not groundbreaking but do leave the reader respectively horrified and satisfied.
If you like a good haunted house story, and don't mind that it's going to take you on an spookular, enjoyable journey without reinventing the wheel, this book just might be for you.

I received an e-book from the publisher for review consideration