Mammoth Books Presents Unexpected Encounters (Mammoth Books)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Autumn Chill - Richard L. Tierney
Inspired by the work of Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, Donald Wandrei, Robert E. Howard and Frank Belknap Long, Tierney's poetry has been collected in Dreams and Damnations, The Doom Prophet and One Other, the Arkham House volume of Collected Poems, Nightmares and Visions, The Blob That Gobbled Abdul and Other Poems and Songs and Savage Menace and Other Poems of Horror. S.T. Joshi has described Tierney as "one of the leading weird poets of his generation."
The Lemon in the Pool - Simon Kurt Unsworth
"In the summer of 2009, I went on holiday with my family - the extended version. As well as my wife and son, Wendy and Ben, there were my parents, my sister and her husband, and my mother-in-law all sharing a villa in Moreira, Spain. "One of the delights of the holiday was having a private pool, and seeing Ben enjoy himself in the water, where over the course of seven days he learned to swim. Perhaps even more fun was seeing his joy when things started to appear in the pool on a daily basis - a tomato, a lemon, two courgettes, three green chillies. "I have no idea where they came from, but I suspect that children in a neighbouring villa were playing a joke on us and Ben loved it. It got to be one of the most exciting things about the holiday, waiting to see what would appear that day. After the appearance of the courgettes, my sister said, 'This'll find its way into one of Simon's stories,' and everyone laughed and someone (I think my mum) said, 'Even he couldn't write a story about this.' "Mum, if it was you that said that, this story is entirely your fault."
Losenef Express - Mark Samuels
About the story, Mark Samuels explains: "I think most fans of horror will recognise at once the late, great American author upon whom the central character of this tale is based (or, perhaps more accurately, filtered through my imagination). We never met, although I did once catch sight of him across a room at the 1988 World Fantasy Convention in London and, prompted by curiosity, took a hasty, half-obscured photograph. "A number of my friends knew him well, and I regret I myself never had the chance to do so. Sadly, I only discovered his brilliant work years after his untimely death."
As Red as Red - Caitlín R. Kiernan
"I don't know that 'As Red as Red' had any single source of inspiration," says Kiernan. "It coalesced from numerous experiences and accounts of the supernatural in Rhode Island. Also, I very much wanted to write a non-conventional vampire story which was also (and maybe more so) a werewolf story and a ghost story. "It's also true that I was just coming off having finished The Red Tree, and, in some ways, 'As Red as Red' is an extended footnote to that novel. I was still trying to get The Red Tree out of my system."
someone in the fog, in a foreign city, for the offence of having apparently stared at you with contempt? But he was not sober. He was drunk. Moreover, he was drunk and he was sick of everything. And the stranger had become a symbol of that “everything” in his mind. Knox did not know what he would do when he confronted the fat man, but he didn’t think the outcome would be pleasant. Back in Tennessee, Knox used to shoot snakes on his porch. Outside, the air was cold, clammy and thick. The shock of
in. I get to my feet, and the copy of Thousand Cranes slides off my lap; the noise the book makes when it hits the fl oor is enough that a couple of people look up from their magazines and glare at me. I offer them an apologetic gesture – part shrug and part sheepish frown – and they shake their heads, almost in unison, and go back to reading. When I glance at the window again, the black-haired woman is no longer there. Suddenly, my headache is much worse (probably from standing so quickly, I
intervene on my behalf, and, more importantly, I understand full fucking well that this night holds nothing more menacing than what my over-stimulated imagination has put there. I turn away from the streetlight and continue up the hill towards home. And I do not have to pretend that I don’t hear footsteps following me, or the clack of claws on concrete, because I don’t. The quick shadow, the peripheral blur, it was only a moment’s misapprehension, no more than a trick of my exhausted, preoccupied
seen the children throw anything, never seen them looking at her over their wall or heard them laughing. And besides, she thought, how likely is it that this is the work of young children? The fruit, maybe, but meat? No. It didn’t seem likely. Then what? Tell the police? Again, no. Moreira was a tourist town, so she wouldn’t be dismissed entirely because they relied on tourism and had to make sure they listened when tourists complained, but they wouldn’t take her seriously. It wasn’t exactly a
Processes and The Man Who Collected Machen (recently reprinted by Chômu Press), as well as the short novel The Face of Twilight. “Losnef Express” is the sixth of his tales to have appeared in The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror. About the story, Samuels explains: “I think most fans of horror will recognise at once the late, great American author upon whom the central character of this tale is based (or, perhaps more accurately, filtered through my imagination). We never met, although I did once