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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Drink, Eat… Be Merry?

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DRINK, EAT…BE MERRY?

by Tim J. Finn

Brett Ralston tapped the Smartphone in the pocket of his parka and silenced its chirping. His latest friend with benefits failed to comprehend his no-call directive also applied to text messages. Her spectacular bedroom skills stayed him from booting her taut buttocks to the curb. He should be enjoying her prowess instead of supervising a body dump in the middle of a hazardous waste site. Ralston resolved to leave grown up virgins alone, despite the appeal of acting as ‘deflowerer’. Paula Downey proved to be too stupid and too Catholic to prevent her problematic pregnancy.

Adam Edwards leaned on his shovel and tugged a gin bottle from his coat. He gulped half a dozen mouthfuls and offered the bottle to his fellow digger. Continue reading

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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Write Like a Girl: An Evening of Women in Horror

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FunDead Publications, Creative Salem, & The Witch House Present: Write Like a Girl: An Evening of Women in Horror February is Women in Horror Month, and FunDead has gathered a few local Gothic and Horror Writers to share their work through readings at The Witch House in Salem.

Tickets are $10 and the ticket cost will be donated to Safe Child to help children accused of witchcraft in the villages of Africa. Find out more about the charity here.

Current readers include:

Nancy Brewka-Clark

Amber Newberry

Laurie Moran

Kathy Halecki

R.C. Mulhare

Erin Crocker

(We will add writers as the are confirmed.)

If you’d like to be considered for reading a horror or gothic piece for this event, please send FunDead Publications a message on Facebook or e-mail us at DearFunDead@gmail.com.

10 ‘What If’ Writing Prompts

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It’s Monday! If you’re feeling a little stunted after the weekend, here are some ‘What If’ writing prompts to get you thinking or writing (hopefully both!).

Continue reading

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

FunDead Survey: Help Us Give You Better Content!

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