Cover Art Reveal for ‘Entombed in Verse’

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Entombed

We are pleased to announce the cover art for the very first FunDead Publications poetry anthology, Entombed in Verse: An Epitaph for Salem! This forthcoming anthology features poems written by authors both local and distant. The collection revolves around the subject of Salem history, legend, and myth. You’ll read about Giles Corey and glimpse moments within the Witch Trials era, but you’ll also read about Harmony Grove Cemetery, the Great Salem Fire, and even experience a harrowing ride on the elevator at the Hawthorne Hotel. Continue reading

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Spellbound

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Spellbound

by Fanni Sütő

 

Akimitsu stood before the huge lacquered mirror, examining her naked body with a smug smile. Her skin smelled of warm sunlight, sweet rice cakes, and powder white perfection. She was preparing for the arrival of her beloved, the man she had summoned with the help of spirits and the power of angry longing. Her spell would call him away from the arms of another woman, from his duties, from his life. It would overthrow anything that stood between them. Akimitsu’s power reached out for him across seas, above mountains, and below rivers. From the moment she laid her eyes on him a long, long time ago, she wanted Nobuharu to be her lover. But he already wore another woman’s mark, a faded ring of hasty promises.

Akimitsu frowned at the memory and ran her hand down the golden brown kimono waiting for her on a chair. She tried to twirl her hair into elaborated designs but her locks kept breaking free. Under her touch, the silk rustled with the sound of falling leaves. She felt her lover drawing closer, dragged by the power of Akimitsu’s spell. The ground moaned about the fall of his footsteps. Akimitsu, the witch of the autumn winds, smiled. She enjoyed her power, it was bringing her the man she had desired for endless years. Her longing was so strong it would have ripped the jaws of earth open.

Akimitsu had been alive since the dawn of the time, dancing around death with the light steps of a geisha, always avoiding his touch when he reached out for her. Her power grew as the years went by, her reality merged with visions about the past and the future.

Akimitsu couldn’t remember when she saw him first, the ink-haired Nobuharu, but she remembered the haunted look in his eyes when he saw her. He must have seen Fate sitting on her shoulder.

The drifting scent of incense filled her house and the wind chimes reminded Akimutsu of wedding bells. The dying sun poured its copper light on the zen garden and the room, setting the scene for the long awaited meeting.

There was a knock on the door. Akimitsu gave herself one last appraising look, then rushed to salute her fiancé. He was bound to love her and to share her long life and to warm her tatami.

The autumn witch pulled away the rice paper door and faced the man she hadn’t seen for such a long time. Lost in her timeless thoughts, it had never occurred to Akimitsu that human life is as fragile as the finest china. Once it’s broken, it cannot be mended. Unless…

Nobuharu’s skin was gray and he was shading it like a cherry blossom shed its petals. His lightless eyes were drinking in the shape of Akimitsu who stood in front of him in her full beauty. Nobuharu’s one remaining nostril trembled with yearning for Akimitsu’s flesh.

She had summoned him and he came, following the call of her spell, leaving behind his village, his serenity and even the realm of the dead.

Nobuharu stepped closer to embrace the woman who ruined his peace. He saw horror in her eyes, but she didn’t try to escape, not even when he bit into her lips hungrily.

Read more from on www.inkmapsandmacarons.com and be sure to follow on Twitter!

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*NEW* Halloween Night in Salem Short Story Submissions

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13902676_1143410472382941_4244725564839305755_nWe are seeking short stories for a new anthology slated for fall of 2017 (roughly early September for release, official title TBA). This will be a sister anthology to our first release, Shadows in Salem, that came out in September of 2016. We want this collection to share the theme of Salem, MA ON HALLOWEEN NIGHT through the years. Set your story in 1955, set your story in 1999, that is up to you, but it must be dark, gothic, or horror related! We will post years that are submitted as they arrive in our e-mail so you can keep track and so we don’t have twenty stories set on Halloween night in 1626. We are from Salem, so we know the area well, as do our local readers, so please take that into consideration in your research! Some witches are okay, but please remember that there is so much more to this city than the witch history! We are hoping to select one story per decade for variety, but we do not expect to fill *every* decade between the founding of Salem (1626) and today. Our anthologies generally end up at around twenty stories, so keep in mind, you don’t have to limit yourself to the last 100 years.
  • Instructions: Send your submission to DearFunDead@gmail.com for consideration with “Halloween Salem Submission AND THE YEAR YOUR STORY IS SET as the subject line, for example, “Halloween Salem Submission: 1922“, but please read our guidelines below!

Submission Guidelines:

  • Submit by: June 11th, 2017  June 30th, 2017 Word Count: 1,000-6,000
  • Content Requirements: Your story must 14523174_1193628297361158_5059588828413983419_ntake place in Salem, MA on Halloween (10/31). The time-period and content is your choice, but DO be unique and DO make it SPOOKY! We will continue posting a running list of the years/decades that have already been submitted to ensure you have a chance to pick a year that has not been submitted already. Of course, we are looking for the best, so if there are many submissions set in 1977, we’ll try to choose the best of them. Yes, Salem is ‘The Witch City’, so you can utilize this in your writing, but please be unique if you choose this subject matter!
  • List of Years we’ve already received submissions for: PLEASE SEE THIS POST ON OUR SUBMISSIONS PAGE FOR THE LIST.

 

  • Payment: Accepted submissions will be awarded payment in the way of $10 upon printing, paid via PayPal, and a print copy of the book. Writers may also choose to accept their payment in the form of extra copies of the anthology. It may not be much, but we are a small and humble press just getting our start and it’s all we can offer at this time, besides our excellent social media promotion and beyond (we post daily, often, and spotlight our writers regularly). If your submission is accepted, you will also receive a printed copy of the anthology!
  • Format: Format should be in standard manuscript format and submitted as .doc,
    .docx. Unfortunately, we cannot accept reprints at this time. Please include a brief cover letter introducing yourself along with your submission.
  • Response Time: Please be aware that it may be six to eight weeks (or more) before you receive a response from FunDead Publications, we often wait until after the close date to send acceptance e-mails to ensure we select the best content for our readers. Our submission load is often fluctuating, but we read and respond as quickly as we can. If it is a simultaneous submission, please let us know.
  • Diversity Statement: We at FunDead Publications believe diversity is what makes fiction wonderful and unique and we welcome submissions from writers of every race, religion, nationality, gender, and sexual orientation.14925382_1219193854804602_7705233375313980042_n

Flash Fiction Friday *Scrounging for Scraps*

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Scrounging for Scraps

by Chantal Boudreau

The ebony-furred cur hovers at my feet, waiting, I assume, for any tidbits that might tumble from the table.  Hot, dry breath tickles my ankles and calves. It wants what I have, but I’m not about to yield to it.

I glare down at the hound, my own teeth bared while keeping my fork well out of reach.  What I’m eating today is a rare treat.  I’m unwilling to share.

“Mine,” I snarl, hoping it will back off.

It does not budge.  Its pupil-less eyes, piercingly red, glare back at me.  It exposes its teeth too, intimidating fangs.  Steam rises from its putrid black tongue.

It growls, a sound that seems to penetrate my soul, and I shudder.  I can’t help but wonder if it truly does want to sample the piece of Eleanor perched on the end of my fork or if its hunger runs deeper.

Does it crave what I’m currently eating or is it here to devour something else of mine?

 

Find more of Chantal’s work on her WordPress or by following on Facebook or Twitter!

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Flash Fiction Friday *My Favorite Pillow*

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My Favorite Pillow

By Briana McClendon

The anger that rolls through my head sometimes blocks out all other noise, so all I can focus on is how mad I am. Have you ever just wanted to stab something so badly that you can’t think of anything else? This is the case in my marriage. My husband just doesn’t understand my needs anymore. I NEED him to do what I ask the first time. I NEED him to stop watching the football game long enough to spend time with me. I NEED him to stop seeing other women. Which is what brought on this sudden case of the stabbies. We are going to be late for counseling. My husband called to tell me he would be late because he was going out with “friends” after work. Funny how he always smells like a French whore when he is finished hanging out with “friends”.

According to my counselor when I feel the need to stab something, I should stab a pillow or piece of foam.“It’s best to let it out,” she says. I grabbed my favorite pillow from the bed, and the knife from the drawer in the bed side stand. Going into the bathroom I stabbed the pillow I had gotten for these occasions. I stayed in the bathroom to watch myself. I stabbed it and stabbed it till my arm hurt, and then I threw the knife as hard as I could at the wall. It missed. Oh well,I’ll find it later. I finished getting dressed. I wasn’t going to be late for our counseling session. The bastard could be late and drive there on his own; I still didn’t know where he was. Exiting the bathroom, I found my knife. It was sticking out of my husband’s lifeless body. It doesn’t look like he’s going to make it to counseling tonight after all.

Follow Briana on Facebook for updates and more of her work!

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Curse of the Were… by D.A. D’Amico

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Curse of the Were…

By D. A. D’Amico

Oh, I was so close…

I’d just learned the whereabouts of the foul-mouthed Gypsy, the brother of the stuttering Turk who’d cursed me, when the moon rose to sit bloated atop the edge of a nearby skyscraper, its bright jaundiced light filling the street.

I reached the doorway just in time, leaving a boot behind on the rough cobblestones as my feet changed shape. Hair sprouted wildly. My face widened and my jaw snapped forward; fingers, once thin and gracile, expanded to become fat calloused sausages with long claw-like nails. A howl of pain escaped my burning throat. I vomited evil-smelling bile down the front of my swelling chest, collapsing in a heap of obscenely quivering flesh. Continue reading

Why Your Book Review Matters

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When was the last time you bought something from Amazon without glancing at the product rating or skimming the reviews?  Do you recall the number of hours you spent getting through that last novel you read? If you’re going to be spending a lot of time with that book, you might want some reassurance that it’s worth the hours you’ll spend reading it. You’re not alone, more than 85% of readers base their decision to purchase a book on the reviews it has. Your review is important because it could directly affect the very next customer who considers buying that book. Continue reading