Butchers, by Todd Sullivan is primarily the story of Sey-Mi, a young woman who is chosen to be turned into a vampire and brought into the ranks of the Gwanlyo, a secret vampire society. The story revolves around Sey-Mi's initiation, learning curve, and torture at the hands of current members. There are also elements within the order attempting to police it and others trying to bring it down.

From the word go, it is clear that Sullivan has spent a great deal of time in the far east(he is, in fact, a teacher there) and has great knowledge of and respect for the area. The story takes place in Seoul, South Korea, and the locale immediately drops most readers into unfamiliar territory. A great tactic for a horror novella.

As many successful novellas do, Butchers drops the reader directly into the action. A lot of characters are introduced right away, and I worried I'd have a hard time keeping them straight. Actually, I did for a couple chapters, but Sullivan sticks with these characters, fleshes out their motivations, and doesn't add many more people to keep track of.
As much as I don't like to suggest an author's work should have been shorter or longer, I would have liked some more information on the Gwanlyo. I understood that they were a secret society of vampires, but because they were bringing people to their ranks and offering them employment, it wasn't clear what their objective was. It would also be interesting to delve into the society's origins, but that certainly could have altered the fast-paced and linear nature of the story told.

Butchers touts itself as extreme horror. This is based in part on the action scenes revolving around unflinching vampire attacks, both on each other but also on Sey-Mi. Most of what earns it this title are the scenes involving Sey-Mi's torture. They are violent at times but the sexual nature and descriptions of other gross acts are what non-fans of extreme horror are going to want to avoid. They seemed a bit gratuitous and over-the-top to me, but then again, the author did warn me.

The strength here is in the unrelenting pacing. Todd Sullivan trimmed any fat and never lets his foot off the gas to mix metaphors. The dialogue can be a bit clunky at times and the ending is not fully resolved, leaving the door open to more stories in this world, but if breakneck vampire horror with an extreme bent sounds like your cup of tea, come grab a mug.


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


3.5 stars rounded up for Goodreads.

Fans of cosmic horror unite! Michael Winter digs deep and brings some new lore to the table in his novel, Periphery.

Andy Tate is a paramedic with the Tampa Fire Department, and is just starting to get his life back together. Andy has struggled with alcoholism, the root cause of an accident involving his young daughter, which lead him to walk away from his family and his former unit, as well as the stigma of his father's questionable ideas. Now at a new station, Andy finally feels like he can get a new start until a hostage situation brings to light the reason Andy is estranged from his father.

Now Andy is seeing monsters everywhere, and the worst part? They've always been there. Winter introduces us to the bilantu offalate. These are typically small, yet deadly, creatures from another dimension that exist at the, to borrow a line, periphery of our reality. Most people can't see them, which is good because if you acknowledge their existence, they tend to attack you. However, attacks are becoming more and more frequent, because the bilantu are heralding their masters, the vetro offalate. The vetro are bigger, meaner, more intelligent beings that have been to our world before and are now seeking to return, and not with the best of intentions. It will be up to Andy to put together a team to stop them, all the while convincing the world that he isn't losing his mind.

I don't usually like to eat up so much space with synopsis, but it's important to know that Michael Winter is not simply giving us new humans surrounded by Lovecraft monsters. It was the idea behind the bilantu offalate that got me excited to pick this up. Horror that feeds on primal fears, i.e. the darkness, tends to work for me. When an author launches an investigation into what you actually saw from the corner of your eye, and the result is so visceral, yeah, I'm going to be there for it.

The story and the ideas are strong, but the human characters don't necessarily live up to the potential of the rest of the novel. There's nothing wrong with them per se, but I found myself considerably more invested in creature reveals than the fate or redemption of any of the main characters. They move the story along, but the family drama does not resonate as strong as it could have. To Winter's credit, this could have totally derailed a different story, but the narrative does stand on its own.

If you're looking for a new take on cosmic horror, and a Lovecraftian-type mythos that deviates from the original enough to capture the reader's attention, this just might be for you. Bonus points as well for creating monsters/creatures that somehow transcend description, but are presented in a way that makes for a cache of nightmare fuel.

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

What a ride this book is!

Kicking off at the Jerome Grand Hotel in Arizona, Justin Holley sets the scene for a tale of the supernatural. James and Victoria are staying in a hotel renowned for potentially being haunted only to find out they're about to be hit by a blizzard and snowed in. The stuff they're going to be put through from here on out is not for the squeamish.

It's okay to think why bother? I've already read The Shining but that's why I'm here. To tell you that you couldn't be more wrong. I don't want to reveal too much here, but the threat our characters face is ancient and a whole lot more brutal than I anticipated. It also takes the story into a place that doesn't tread quite as many tropes as it could have. Holley's addition of human interaction with the supernatural antagonist made for one of my favorite elements of the story. There is also a scene, and you'll know it as soon as you get to it, that reminded me of Stephen King's The Raft. See what I mean? Come with a strong stomach.

While James and Vic are the most likely nominees for main character, we spend our time with a pretty varied group coming from all walks of life. I think my favorite addition are Miles and Janey, a brother-sister pair who are far more adept at hunting and dealing with the supernatural than you might expect. This is a completely self-contained story, and I have no expectation that Justin Holley will revisit the events or characters, but I would absolutely read another novel centered around these two.

Silver Shamrock has been on a bit of a novella roll as of late, and even though Seven Cleopatra Hill comes in around 260 pages, that page count flies. The story is very linear which pulls the reader in and takes them along for the ride, not really giving you anything resembling a chance to hop off. There are a couple side trips to give backstory, but these are never gratuitous and only add to the reader's understanding and appreciation of the mythology involved.

In short, the newest addition to the Silver Shamrock family is another winner. Another book I won't be content to revisit in kindle form, but will need to add the paperback to my shelf. 
I was given a e-copy by the publisher for review consideration.


Mike Thorn's pair of stories, Dreams of Lake Drukka and Exhumation, served as my introduction to Demain Publishing's Short Sharp Shocks series. Although the two stories featured contain different characters and situations, there are some overlapping themes including the supernatural and unresolved family conflict.

Dreams of Lake Drukka follows the journey of two sisters traveling to the lake where their mother drowned. As they travel, there is tension and conflict as we learn a bit more about the reason for their journey. Once the sisters get to the title lake, the story throws any sense of subtlety out the window and things get a bit grim. The ending to this story almost seemed a bit rushed, but I did like the dynamic it conveyed.

Exhumation follows a man, Abel, attending his cousin's funeral. The first part of the story hints more at psychological and tense horror as a man Abel doesn't know hints at events that the two of them, as well as the deceased, participated in when they were younger. Abel begins to have flashes and then, like Lake Drukka, we are catapulted into the action of the story. The vivid descriptions of one of the characters in this story just might give you a little trouble falling asleep at night, and Thorn crafts an ending we're not going to forget.

The two stories here, along with word of mouth regarding Mike Thorn's other book - Darkest Hours, will have me keeping an eye out for what comes from this author in the future. Both stories in this collection are worth checking out and are available on September 27th.

Under a Raging Moon embodies one of my favorite types of horror novellas. I like to think of it as a snapshot. The reader is thrown into a story already in development on page one. Anything we need to know as far as backstory or setting is addressed pretty quickly unless the plot calls for it to be dragged out. These novellas are usually fast-paced and take place over the course of hours or maybe a day or two.
The main character is Vivian. We learn early on that although she cares for her son Kody, their relationship is a bit strained. You could write it off to Kody’s age perhaps. The truth is we don’t get to know him super well before he undergoes a bit of a change.
Mike Sherer does a good job of hooking the reader by not allowing you to establish a firm foothold right away. As soon as you get an idea of where the story is going, the ground shifts underneath you and knocks you over. This was probably the biggest strength in my personal reading experience. I found that once all the big reveals had been made I wasn’t quite as invested as I had been at the onset. Sherer delivered enough drive to keep me reading the whole story, but the magic created at the beginning didn’t quite hold up for me.
Readers who enjoy strong female leads or stories of demonic possession will likely find this book to their taste. There are some graphic scenes but nothing so over the top that a casual horror reader will feel the need to shy away.

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

The Sisters of Slaughter proudly present their second October offering, along with Tapetum Lucidum. Isolation follows Amelia, a widow who inherits a house on a forsaken, and oh yeah, cursed, piece of rock in the middle of the ocean.

Isolation is written as a period piece, and definitely presents with more than a bit of gothic flavor for it. At 114 pages, this story finds its perfect length. The atmosphere created is tense and full of dismay, and one can't imagine it being sustainable for much longer without the reader becoming overwhelmed. The imagery put forth as we near the climax is so lucid, we can picture every awful thing happening as if we were present in this horrific house.

Consider me impressed with just how different the two books Garza and Lason released last month are from each other. Picking up and reading both truly provided an appreciation for the range of storytelling ability the sisters can put on display. I'm onboard for whatever this duo sends out in the future, after I catch with their back catalog of course.

Given the cover and the repute of the publisher, I jumped into Blood Red Sky without knowledge of what I was getting into.

Paul Kane drops us right into the middle of a post-apocalyptic nightmare. We get to know a group of teenagers who are scavenging for food and doing whatever it takes to survive. Kane jumps back and forth mid-chapter between the present and the onset of the world-changing event of the sky turning, well, blood red and large, aggressive monsters wreaking havoc. The cast of characters that we spend the story with refer to these monsters as trolls.

Paul Kane expertly sprinkles in details throughout this novella’s runtime about the origin of the trolls. We get glimpses of their genesis combined with theories from some of the characters, both part of the core group and outsiders who join later. If it all seems a bit random and obscured, rest assured that there is a grand plan in the works which makes itself apparent to the reader by the time the credits roll.

An argument could be made that this novel fits neatly into the mantle of YA. The story focuses more intently on the characters ranging from around ages 10-17, and despite their constant looming presence, relegated the monsters to the background in favor of character and group dynamics. The gore is present, but relatively light compared to other similar monster novels and the lack of strong language leads the reader to believe that the author sought to create a work that would appeal to a wide readership.

Blood Red Sky establishes a world and setting that could reappear in future installments, though as far as I know it currently is a standalone work. Even though Kane gives a satisfying amount of answers, it does feel like there are some more blanks to fill in and bigger and more expansive things afoot. This was a quick, enjoyable read that puts the focus more on the people facing hard times than the hard times themselves.

I received an e-copy of this book from the publisher for review consideration.

This review originally appears as part of a Horror in Poetry Series at http://brennanlafaro.wordpress.com

Choking Back the Devil is very accessible to a person like me, lightly dipping their toes in to test the waters. Some of the poems have the rhyming elements I expected, most don't. Many entries read like flash fiction which I did not expect, but allowed some aspect of familiarity to guide me along. Sacrifice and Borderlines: A Horror Story in 7 Small Parts are prime examples of this.
Cutting to the chase, I really enjoyed this collection. Weighing in at 94 pages, I could have knocked it out in an afternoon, but I spent the better part of a week taking the entries in one at a time, sometimes rereading them, thinking about what Lynch was putting in front of me, and also my own personal interpretation. There was not a single piece in here that confused me and made me want to put it down and re-give up on poetry all over again.
I thought that maybe I'd become smarter or more open-minded since high school english, but not necessarily so. Lynch wrote a pretty incredible Afterword (originally published by Ladies of Horror Fiction) to let me know what it was I enjoyed about this collection, and dammit, she was right. I would love to just copy and paste the whole thing here, but I'll consolidate. Lynch talks about how horror poetry is a "brief, unsettling moment of pictures and feelings" and goes on to compare it to being the most frightening part of a horror novel captured in short.
Yes, this is it, and that's exactly what is accomplished here. To paraphrase Donna Lynch just once more (I promise), traumatic experiences and unsettling thoughts condensed to the length of a shopping list. I think I'm going to like this going forward.
Choking Back the Devil consists of 35 works, and although I don't have the room to share every one that made me think, gave me chills, or just made me appreciate the author's way with words, I will leave you with a few favorites.
All The Things They Never Tell You was my personal favorite. I kept finding myself going back to reread it and it made me squirm a bit. Race is an excellent examination of horror rules and how they pertain to why people write it. If You Love Me is another great example of the author creating short, unsettling thoughts and moments. Rounding out, I also found myself thinking a lot about The Most Haunted Girl I Ever Knew, Choking Back the Devil, and It Just Wasn't Your Night.
Thank you goes out to Raw Dog Screaming Press and Erin Al-Mehairi for getting this in my hands. This book was an excellent gateway drug and I can't wait to see what's next.

I was given a copy by the publisher for review consideration.

Before the genesis of this collection, I didn't realize that addiction horror was a thing. Now it makes all the sense in the world. One of the best things I've discovered through reading more independent horror is my own expanded definition of what horror means, what it can be. 
There are stories in this anthology like that of Gabino or John Taff that fit a little more neatly under the horror umbrella, with other-worldly creatures. Other stories like that of Caroline Kepnes and Mercedes Yardley approach it from a more human perspective and read almost as literary drama. Yet all display elements of horror and give us complex characters dealing with real fear. 
All the stories contained within are in novella/novelette form, and it ends up being one of the biggest strengths. As much as, if not more, than other forms of horror the reader must get to know the characters in order to empathize with their plight and truly take part in the horror that surrounds them. The longer form helps every story accomplish this feat and is a tremendous argument in favor of quality over quantity. 
Kealan Patrick Burke's Now They See Me is a bleak, beautiful opening. It's deeply entrenched in the style you know you're going to be reading. Pure Burke. 
Monsters was my introduction to Caroline Kepnes. This story is written in a multiple POV style that draws the reader in. This one draws from the evil contained within the human heart and leaves us to contemplate the god-awful things we do to each other. 
Lizard was a stand-out story written by Mark Matthews, who also edited the anthology. Matthews sets up in the introduction his personal history with addiction, both as an insider and an outsider. It is quickly clear to the reader that he draws deeply to paint the most true-to-life picture possible. The end result is a story that is tough to read at multiple points, but holds the anthology together. 
John F.D. Taff's The Melting Point of Meat reads with a tinge of Clive Barker, namely the last ten pages or so. It's a brutal exploration of a type of addiction we might not anticipate, but might be most likely to see day-to-day. It also serves as the King of Pain's foray into cosmic horror and has me all kinds of excited for a potential collection of cosmic novellas from him. 
Gabino Iglesias contributes Beyond the Reef which I found to be one of the strongest entries. The opening salvo comparing addiction to parenting is passionately written and poignant and roped me in immediately. The remainder is creepy as hell and has a fun Lovecraft connection. 
Love is a Crematorium by Mercedes M. Yardley was my personal favorite addition to Lullabies. Watching Joy's character arc primarily through the eyes of Kelly is heart wrenching, and while none of the stories here would be described as light and fun, this was the one that cut the deepest. Well-written and expertly conceived. 



The Apocalyptic Mannequin begins with pure fire. Eat the Breath of the Apocalypse is such an intense opening that builds with every stanza and explodes at the bottom of the page. The momentum never really lets up from there.
Wytovich lays about 90 short works in front of us, each one as unflinching as the last. I felt as though I should be taking the time to savor each poem, but I couldn’t. Each vignette, each picture of a world gone to shit and the human reactions and consequences leads seamlessly to the next and the reader is tirelessly dragged along.
One thing that makes this one different than the collection I previously read is the thematic element of the apocalyptic literature. This is approached in a myriad of different ways with the one commonality being rawness. The imagery is incredibly vivid and draws on all the senses. A couple examples…

“Collapsed eyeballs dropped like candle wax on the tables.” – from To Bear Witness

“The first blast popped my ear drum, it’s sound like
gunfire in my head; I didn’t open my eyes for three days,
couldn’t breathe without wondering if that air would be my last,
if the taste of metal would ever leave my mouth.” – from Greetings From the New World

It’s a bleak picture, to be sure, but oddly comforting in commiseration. Part of me would love to share a list of favorites, but it’s not quite that simple. When you read an anthology of short stories, even a themed one, you can recommend preferred stories outside their context. This book, however, is one that begs to be read from cover to cover, and I suspect that you might find it as difficult to stop as I did.