Dim Shores Presents Volume 2: Spring 2021

Dim Shores Spring coverBuy the Book:

Title: Dim Shores Presents Volume 2: Spring 2021
Published by: Dim Shores Publications
Release Date: February 1, 2021
Contributors: J. W. Donley, Jennifer Loring, Randee Dawn, Michael David Wilson, Avery Malone, dave ring, Erica Ruppert, Timothy G. Huguenin, Mike Adamson, Jason A. Wyckoff, Mari Ness, C.M. Muller
Pages: 332
ISBN13: 978-0999143087

 Dim Shores Presents is a new bi-annual anthology series spotlighting some of the best new writing in speculative fiction. Weird horror, strange science fiction, and dark fantasy rub shoulders with each other here, weaving a tapestry of uncanny beauty and fearful wonder.

This is the table of contents for Volume 2:

J. W. Donley - “Gustav Floats”
Jennifer Loring - “The Soul of a New Machine”
Randee Dawn - “Rough Beast, Slouching”
Michael David Wilson - “Don't Punch Kyle”
Avery Malone - “The Solifuge's Grin”
dave ring - “Terms and Conditions Apply”
Erica Ruppert - “Homecoming”
Timothy G. Huguenin - “AV_NEST.CASEFILE”
Mike Adamson - “Zamalek, the Dream”
Jason A. Wyckoff - “Su Porcu”
Mari Ness - “Rockshell”
C.M. Muller - “In the Dust”

e-book available through the publisher's website here.

"Rough Beast, Slouching" made award-winning editor Ellen Datlow's long list of Best Horror of 2022.

From "Rough Beast, Slouching," by Randee Dawn

"We're making a video tonight, so everybody act like this is the biggest damn concert of your life. Act like Elvis took the stage."

"That would be unpleasant," a firm, insinuating voice next to me purred.

Not Kay. Definitely not Scott. Or Jordan. My mouth went dry again and I wondered what had happened to Kay's lollipop. I slid a glance to the voice.

It was the woman from the other side of the room, the one playing tonsil hockey with Jordan a few seconds ago. Her arms were gently folded, hip cocked to one side. I wasn't sure if the laws of physics permitted her to get across the room as fast as she had, but I couldn't argue with facts.

"Unpleasant?" I croaked.

"Well," she said in a clear, lilting voice. "If Mr. Elvis Aaron Presley were here, he'd be in a rather rotten state. Even a fat man like him couldn't last long after more than four decades underground."

"How the hell did you get over –"

"I go where I like," she smiled up at me. That needle appeared in my brain, a soft, sliding invasion. When she blinked, I got an up-close look at those unsettling eyes. An earthly, pulsing green. Like moss, or fungus. Something that grows over dead things and consumes them.

"Greetings, Nevada Sullivan," she said.

"How –" I stuttered again.

"You may call me Sheerie," she said, a name that reminded me of gauzy things – and oddly, of Ma. "Now, hush."