“What if?” An unanswered question. The unexplained, a mystery, a road not taken.
This is a collection of dark fiction injected here and there with glimmers of humour.
The
author takes us on a surreal and ghostly journey from Latin America’s
Day of the Dead, through the coastal towns of Lancashire, a pig farm in
Denmark, a high-rise in Mallorca, a haunted vicarage at Christmas and a
town centre coffee bar. The voices we hear are variously plaintive,
nostalgic, and occasionally vindictive or vengeful: the testimonies and
fears of the living and the dead.
Anne Wilson, writes about
places she knows, imbuing the natural world and the everyday with
disturbing fantasy and the supernatural.
RRP £7.00
Buy from Amazon
Buy from The Hive (UK)
Buy from Barnes and Noble (US)
Buy from Booktopia (Australia)
Buy from us (1-4 books)
Some
really effective and enjoyable stories, from the spooky to the deeply
creepy, and deserving of a wide audience. The characterization of this
collection is a particular strength, with every story having a distinct
voice through dialogue or monologue.
Tony Fyler, Editor-in-chief Jefferson-Franklin Editing
he
author weaves a thrilling web with her prose, creating delightful
pocket worlds to entice and entrance the reader. These are stories that
linger long in the mind after reading.
In these short stories Anne Wilson takes everyday situations and adds
an otherworldly twist. Suited for a bedtime read or for a brief commute
to work, each tale, sad or sinister, is a self contained gem. Should be
on radio or TV but perhaps with a trigger warning for the faint of
heart. Loved it!
Read a sample here:
Mathias Mori stirs; his body stiff from the chill night
air. His nose twitches under the old fedora covering his face, as an ant
becomes separated from the detachment marching purposefully across his hat and
finds its way into his moustache. Cautiously he raises his head to look around
himself and winces with discomfort as the pistol tucked into his belt presses
against his lower ribs.
Midnight is approaching and the little graveyard is quiet in
the darkness. Here and there Mathias sees the low glow of still-flickering
candles. Their light picks out remnants of food, sugar skulls and elaborate
floral tributes. He sees a few remaining hushed and huddled figures: the
weathered faces of the elderly, the painted faces of the young, craving the
company of revenants.
Pale moonlight throws nearer marker crosses and stone
memorials into black relief.
