Week 311 – Weekly Horror Short Story Reviews: Tyson and Clark

Welcome to Week 311–the FINAL WEEK, in fact–of my horror short fiction review project! As I mentioned previously, I’m wrapping this particular series of posts up, but never fear, the blog isn’t going anywhere. Next week I’ll do my last annual roundup for the project. Three very nice stories this week, one a novella, but my favorite was “Nightmare in Wax” by Simon Clark, who offers us an excellent rendering of Homes, Watson, and Moriarty tangling with the Necronomicon. How can you go wrong with a story like that?

Cruel Stories, by Donald Tyson (Weird House Press, 2022)

“The Seed of Vass”

A woman seeks the aid of a witch to gain revenge on her lover. The old herbalist is far more than she appears, and takes her on a gruesome journey, introducing her to real witchcraft. Good.

“The Rose Circle”

A novella—the longest story in the collection—about a young woman in nineteenth-century Boston who becomes increasingly interested in seances and spiritualism, which drives her to become involved with a group of Bohemian spiritualists and occultists. That path begins with an introduction to drugs and free love by the group, which, it soon becomes clear, is more of a cult than anything else, but it takes an even darker path when it becomes clear that the group has access to real magic. Very dark magic, as it turns out. Very nice.

Shadows Over Baker Street, edited by Michael Reaves and John Pelan (Del Rey/Ballantine, 2005)

“Nightmare in Wax” by Simon Clark

This one is truly creepy. An elderly Watson is playing some wax cylinders recorded by Holmes, passing along news of his pursuit of Moriarty, who is seeking the Necronomicon. I liked this one a lot.

Week 310 – Weekly Horror Short Story Reviews: Tyson, Macomber, and Wilson

Welcome to Week 310 of my horror short fiction review project, the penultimate week! Just two stories this week as we wind things down. My favorite was Tyson’s “What is happening” about a wealthy man who has the misfortune of surviving the collapse of human civilization. He has grown so dependent on others that he’s not especially well-equipped for this new environment in which he finds himself.

Cruel Stories, by Donald Tyson (Weird House Press, 2022)

“What Is Happening”

A wealthy, demanding, morbidly obese man who cannot move out of his bed unaided turns out to be in serious trouble when civilization collapses and he can no longer rely on his servants to help him with the simplest of tasks. This is a story of karma and all that.

Shadows Over Baker Street, edited by Michael Reaves and John Pelan (Del Rey/Ballantine, 2005)

“Death Did Not Become Him” by Patricia Lee Macomber and David Niall Wilson

Watson brings a mystery to Holmes that only he can solve. Watson had earlier received some of his own visitors, you see, and the pair must embark on an adventure involving Jewish mysticism. Not bad, but a little forgettable.

Week 309 – Weekly Horror Short Story Reviews: Tyson, King, and MacIntyre

Welcome to Week 309 of my horror short fiction review project! Today we bid farewell to Stephen King’s Nightmares & Dreamscapes, though we will continue onward for two more weeks after this one. Once again our three stories were all entertaining ones, though my favorite was King’s “Umney’s Last Case,” which is a very meta story about what becomes a highly antagonistic and existential relationship between an author and one of his protagonists, a noir-ish private eye in 1940s Hollywood.

Cruel Stories, by Donald Tyson (Weird House Press, 2022)

“Future Indefinite”

A middle-aged reporter runs into a group of young revolutionaries, who turn out to be way more radical (and violent) then is initially clear. I don’t want to spoil all of the revelations of this story, because there are definitely some important surprises here. This was an interesting one, and took me on several twists and turns that I had not anticipated.

Nightmares & Dreamscapes, by Stephen King (Signet, 1994)

“Umney’s Last Case”

A Chandler-esque private eye living in 1930s Los Angeles meets his author creator when the author enters the world he has created because his own life has gone bad. This is an extremely meta story, which I appreciated, but it’s a lot of fun. The character is badly abused by the author and, well, the character seeks revenge. How does one double-cross one’s own creator? Good stuff.

Shadows Over Baker Street, edited by Michael Reaves and John Pelan (Del Rey/Ballantine, 2005)

“The Adventure of Exham Priory” by F. Gwynplaine MacIntyre

We learn the truth about the Reichenbach Falls encounter between Holmes and Moriarty, not the one that he eventually revealed to Watson. Here, Moriarty is in league with the Great Old Ones, seeking esoteric means of building his power base. At the last second, even Moriarty recalls what it means to be an Englishman. Fun story.

Book Review: Rogue by Greg F. Gifune

Rogue
Greg F. Gifune
JournalStone Publishing (September 14, 2018)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

The veneer of the American Dream—loving spouse, solid job, nice house, comfortable life—fractures catastrophically in Greg F. Gifune’s Rogue, revealing a narrative that intricately weaves psychological unraveling with supernatural horror. Gifune takes readers on a harrowing journey through the life of Cameron Horne, a man whose seemingly idyllic existence spirals into a nightmarish descent. This tightly-woven and unsettling exploration delves into the complexities of identity and the inexorable pull of the unknown.

Cameron Horne starts with what we might assume to be the quintessential American life but the fabric of his reality begins to unravel almost as soon as the novel begins. Gifune crafts a compelling premise here, introducing readers to a protagonist whose descent into darkness becomes an irresistible vortex of mystery and terror. Cameron is a civil servant who monitors registered sex offenders, which brings him into daily contact with some of humanity’s worst on a daily basis. As the narrative progresses, he is beset by increasing bouts of confusion, missing time, and sudden fits of violence. He eventually comes to experience even more disturbing things that deeply upset the fabric of his daily life and cause him to begin to question everything about himself.

As Cameron grapples with bizarre episodes of lost time, horrifying nightmares, and a haunting figure that seems to possess knowledge of the future, the narrative takes on an otherworldly hue. Gifune masterfully blends psychological horror with the supernatural, creating an atmosphere that is both disquieting and captivating. The question of whether Cameron is losing his mind or being stalked by an evil force becomes a central enigma, propelling the plot forward with relentless suspense.

The characterization in Rogue is a testament to Gifune’s narrative prowess. Cameron Horne is more than a mere vessel for the story; he is a complex, multifaceted character whose internal struggles mirror the external horrors he faces. Gifune delves into Cameron’s psyche with nuance, portraying the internal conflict between his mild-mannered facade and the awakening of something primal and malevolent within. Because he experiences missing time, confusion, and uncertainty about what is happening to him—is everything he seems to experience real?—we, like Cameron himself, take a journey to discover the mystery at the heart of Cameron’s increasingly troubling experiences and crumbling persona.

The atmospheric elements of the novel contribute significantly to its impact. Gifune’s ability to evoke a sense of dread is palpable, as shadowy figures, mysterious voices, and haunting visions encroach upon Cameron’s reality. The pacing of Rogue is a finely tuned symphony of tension and revelation. Gifune skillfully tightens the narrative screws, allowing suspense to mount steadily as the protagonist’s descent accelerates. The oscillation between moments of eerie calm and explosive violence adds a dynamic layer to the storytelling, keeping readers on the edge of their seats.

In Rogue, Gifune blends elements of horror, psychological thrillers, and supernatural mystery seamlessly. The novel stands as a testament to his ability to craft narratives that transcend genre boundaries, offering readers a nuanced and chilling exploration of the human psyche under the weight of malevolence. As the layers of Cameron Horne’s unraveling are peeled back, Rogue becomes a haunting odyssey that lingers in the mind, inviting contemplation of the boundaries between sanity and the unknown.

This review originally appeared in Hellnotes.

Week 308 – Weekly Horror Short Story Reviews: Tyson, King, and Lupoff

Welcome to Week 308 of my horror short fiction review project! We’re winding down the project, for now, here at the start of the new year. All fun stories this week, though my favorite was the short-and-sweet “Cruising” by Donald Tyson. A naughty young man gets his comeuppance (and then some) from two young women he meets on the road one day.

Cruel Stories, by Donald Tyson (Weird House Press, 2022)

“Cruising”

Very short, very gruesome, and very good. Johnny Sheen starts flirting with, catcalling, and racing with a car of two young women. They very quickly turn the tables on Johnny, and he ends up way over his head. It’s a brief little story but I liked it a lot.

Nightmares & Dreamscapes, by Stephen King (Signet, 1994)

“The Doctor’s Case”

A Sherlock Holmes story in which Watson solves the case. It begins as a perfect locked-room mystery in which a truly awful miser has been killed, and his sons are the only suspects. The man deserved to die and Holmes, Watson, and Lestrade can see that, once Watson points it out. So what are they to do? It didn’t ring 100% true to me with some of the diction, but I enjoyed it.

Shadows Over Baker Street, edited by Michael Reaves and John Pelan (Del Rey/Ballantine, 2005)

“The Adventure of the Voorish Sign” by Richard A. Lupoff

Holmes and Watson are called in to investigate the disappearances of a noblewoman’s husband and brother, which turns out to be the work of a cult seeking to summon the Great Old Ones. A little long, but not bad at all.

Book Review: Midnight Gods by Greg F. Gifune

Midnight Gods
Greg F. Gifune
JournalStone Publishing (May 4, 2018)
Reviewed by Andrew Byers

Greg F. Gifune’s Midnight Gods unfolds as a chilling symphony of psychological horror, seamlessly weaving a narrative that resonates with contemporary anxieties and the timeless fears that lurk in the shadows of the human psyche. This short novel of what I might mostly describe as “quiet horror” is a masterclass in atmospheric storytelling, where Gifune’s meticulous prose and skillful plotting create an immersive experience that transcends the boundaries of conventional horror.

At its core, Midnight Gods is a tale of ordinary lives unraveling in the wake of a seemingly innocuous hit-and-run. Emily and Oliver Young, embodying the essence of suburban normalcy, find themselves ensnared in a web of paranoia and dread after a minor car accident in which Emily hits a pedestrian on the way home from a party but doesn’t bother to stop to ensure the man is unharmed. That trigger event begins a downward spiral for the couple that involves strange, unexplained behavior on Emily’s part and increasingly troubling intrusions by strangers into the Youngs’ lives. Gifune introduces readers to a nightmarish figure, a man in a fedora, whose ethereal presence casts a long shadow over the couple’s existence. The initial act, a mere accident compounded by an unethical decision made in a moment of panic, becomes a catalyst for a descent into an unsettling and otherworldly reality.

Gifune’s craftsmanship shines through in the seamless flow of his narrative. Gifune navigates the progression of paranoia within Emily and Oliver with skill and verve, allowing the reader to witness the transformation of ordinary lives into a harrowing journey through the unknown. The novella unfolds with an atmospheric finesse that captures the claustrophobia of the couple’s darkened house, where shadows and the ever-lurking man in a fedora become co-conspirators in the couple’s descent into madness. Gifune expertly balances the line between the tangible and the intangible, blurring the boundaries of reality and imagination. The result is a narrative that grips readers in a vise of psychological tension, mirroring the characters’ unraveling sanity.

The characters, particularly Emily and Oliver, serve as conduits for Gifune’s exploration of existential fear. As their personalities warp and their dreams become increasingly vivid and troubling, the reader is thrust into an immersive experience of psychological horror. Gifune delves into the nuances of their evolving relationship, creating characters whose struggles with the unknown mirror the broader fears embedded in the societal fabric.

Midnight Gods is a testament to Gifune’s ability to evoke fear without relying on gratuitous violence or explicit gore. The horror is subtle, creeping into the narrative like a shiver down the spine, leaving a lasting impression on the reader’s psyche. The mysterious man in the fedora becomes a symbolic embodiment of the fears that pervade the collective consciousness, transcending the confines of the characters’ individual experiences.

In Midnight Gods, Gifune invites readers to confront the intangible fears that lurk beneath the surface of everyday life. The novella serves as a reflection on the human condition, a metaphorical journey through the collective anxieties of contemporary society. As the characters grapple with their personal terrors, readers are compelled to confront the broader implications of fear, both manufactured and real, that permeate the world.

Midnight Gods stands as a testament to the enduring power of horror as a genre that can explore the depths of the human psyche and confront the existential uncertainties that define our existence. Greg F. Gifune’s narrative skill, combined with his ability to evoke a sense of dread, makes this novella a compelling and thought-provoking addition to the realm of psychological horror. As the story concludes with a chilling twist, readers are left with a lingering unease, a testament to the enduring impact of Gifune’s storytelling mastery.

This review originally appeared in Hellnotes.