Horror Library, Volume 2, edited by R.J. Cavender and Vincent VanAllen

Horror Library, Volume 2: An Anthology of Terror, edited by R.J. Cavender and Vincent VanAllen, starts out with the short but haunting “A Season of Sleep” by John Rector. The characterization makes this story—Mattie, a young girl left in her parents’ farmhouse to care for her sick brother; Nathan, burning with fever after being attacked by a strange man; and even the setting itself, a house far off the beaten track surrounded by corn fields that give birth to wandering zombies. Aspiring horror writers should take note of the skill with which Rector weaves emotion and desolation into words, crafting an ending that creates an inescapable feeling of doom, no twist required.

In “A Chainsaw Execution,” Stephen R. George walks an impressively delicate line between a first person narrative and losing the story to the character. Greyeyes is a chilling gang leader who punishes an invader from another gang with the most brutal of executions. The seriousness of the man’s crimes is not that great, but Greyeyes demands an example to send back to the rival gang, the Tráiganos. But, as is usual for these stories, violence begets violence, and it’s not only the memory of the chainsaw execution which haunts Greyeyes. Neither the gore nor the musings of the narrator intrude upon this story, though the ending will haunt the hand shakes of those who read it.

“I am Meat, I am in Daycare” by Cameron Pierce is a bizarre tale. The prose is dreamlike, or nightmare-like, a twisted bit of the strange. Susan is hired by Ted Branson to add his “child,” a large slab of meat, to her in-home daycare service. The substance of the story after that consists of this child moving around and infecting others, turning them into meat puppets wearing human, or other, skins. A sense of horror and the surreal is strongly woven into the story, but the lack of an explanation or even a resolution is off-putting for readers whose tastes don’t extend that far into the bizarre.

“Trapped Light Medium” by Sunil Sadanand is a horror story of a more passive nature. The main character is a psychic who sees events of extreme brutality and arranges to get access to these scenes before the cops show up in order to take pictures. The photographer, it seems, is not just after the money the horrendously gory pictures bring; walking through these scenes, making no attempt to save a life or report a crime, he hopes to find a true evil. Sadanand leaves it up to the reader to decide if witnessing the darkest deeds of humanity and not doing anything to change them makes someone part of the evil or not.

At first glance, “Apple” by Marc Paoletti appears to be yet another tale of a serial murderer, a man with a questionable percentage of soul, lying in wait to complete his latest job—the assassination of an African leader. It could also be just another story of a man twisted by his childhood into acting out against humanity. But as the reader follows the killer’s thoughts through anticipation to action, a layer comes to light that sets it apart from other serial killer stories as it tightens to a horrific ending like a silk scarf around your throat.

“Next Stop, Babylon” by John Mantooth is a chilling glimpse of the future in which Tamara, seeking to escape the cruel fate shared by those members of society who are no longer useful, must balance her fear of the grim, prediction-making robot bus driver against her terror of being found by the sweepers—even though she suspects the driver is taking her to her doom. A glimmer of terror, this tale lets just enough slip that the reader knows why they should be scared, but not enough for more than a momentary stab of fear.

“Opening the Eye” by Michael W. Lucas is a trepanning story with a druggie angle. The main character, an addict in a world where his fix is hard to find, decides to drill a hole in his head in the belief that doing so will bring about a permanent high. Trepanning stories are not uncommon in horror, but this one offers something new in the creepy form of a feathery-spider. Created by the gory bit of self-mutilation, it acts as a counterbalance to the mind-expanding high he experiences. But “Opening the Eye” doesn’t throw this interesting curve until after a leisurely description of the trepanning, leaving the reader chewing the fat before finally getting to the meat.

“Phaedra’s Baby” by Matthew Fryer is a not-entirely-convincing story of doom and entrapment. Jason, fleeing into the woods after a fight with his pregnant girlfriend, finds his longtime missing schoolmate, Phaedra, locked in a prison in the woods. His fantasies of rescuing her and becoming a hero quickly fade when she decides not to cooperate. The chill factor on this one is interrupted with major questions of motivation like “Why not just call the police?”

“Immortal Remains” by Tom Pendergrass is a war-themed story where the horror isn’t the war itself, but what foreigners find within the borders of strange places. On a hunt for members of al-Qaida, Logan and his troops stumble upon a strange paradise, an ever-blooming city reachable only by a narrow footpath. Convinced the enemies he seeks have hidden in the little village, Logan cautiously takes two of his men inside to hunt them down. But inside, he finds more than Rasul, the target of their chase, and more than a populace of beautiful, wordless women who have never known Taliban rule. He also finds strange survivors of past invasions—a Russian, a Mongol, and a British man via India—immortal, but in a state no man could envy. Other than a few, overly convenient moments, this is an enjoyable story that uses a very immediate war as a backdrop but not a preaching point.

“The Garbage Collectors” by Ron McGillvray is about a man, who, from rumors his kids hear from their school friends, discovers the town they live in is not only inescapable, but will one day demand the life of one of his two children. His attempts to disprove the children’s theories only seem to give them more credence. In the dark of the night, he seeks out the home of the shadowy “Garbage Collectors” to determine the truth. This story reads like an episode of a TV show specializing in creepy tales, from the dialog to the setting, with a very adult stab at the end.

“Free to Good Home” by Lon Prater is not a tale of gore and violence like the ones preceding it but horror of a different, highly allergic sort. In it, a man finds an odd PDA that appears to grant his wishes, providing he finishes a “To Do” list. Following the list traps him in his home with an obscene number of feline companions, despite the boons that the machine grants him.

“Bound” by Alan Smale is a titillating story that takes place in its entirely as Jackson, an amnesiac bound painfully into a rigid pose, is flung via a blanket into the air by thirteen people he feels he should recognize. The routine persists daily; thirteen people fling him higher and higher with a blanket, as if they want him to look over the wall of the courtyard, until his body can bear no more. When they stop, he seems to as well, falling asleep before they bring him inside and waking only as they begin flinging him again. A strong tale, more so for its limited action, setting, and characterization; this story offers just as much nausea and horror as the ones before it.

“Alien Fajitas” by Boyd E. Harris serves up some fun with its chills. Calvin Hollis has scoped out the next big deal at his job in the restaurant field. Close Encounters of the Culinary Kind is a shticky greasy spoon, but a highly successful one, thanks to the secret of its meat marination. When Calvin stops by for a surprise visit, he finds he’s on the wrong end of the surprise. The owners come clean, and Calvin is left locked in the cooler, forced to make a grim choice. Harris doesn’t let the reader off with only that, pushing his secret further in a creepy-fun final scene. While it may not be hard to figure out what the Close Encounters cooks are up to, it’s a fun ride all the way.

“The Trauma Statement” by Stephen Bacon is reminiscent of science fiction tales meant to leave the reader feeling insignificant. Rarer in horror, this story follows a man who finds among his recently deceased wife’s things an accounting of events, each labeled as “credit” or “deduction.” This strange discovery is explained when he receives a phone call which gives him ten seconds to choose between his son losing his job and a man he doesn’t know being wrongly imprisoned for nine years. The calls don’t cease, and the consequences of his decisions—always a personally significant event versus a more abstract one—grow grimmer. A myriad of paths open up, sprouting from the many judgments he makes. The horror in “The Trauma Statement” is as much in the anguish of those who must decide as in the powerlessness of those who are toyed with by fate.

“Charlotte’s Frequency” by Ian Rogers has a science fiction slant. Morris, all set to enjoy his newly purchased big screen TV, instead discovers a modern-day Charlotte, a la Charlotte’s Web, feeding off something far worse than the crickets living around the water heater. Morris and his wife, Jude, both start to feel sick, weak, and dangerously vulnerable. Charlotte herself seems to be half organic and half electronic, spinning webs that feed off electricity and the people around her. This fable, however, doesn’t end with three happy children and their anthropomorphic porcine friend. On the cutting edge of today’s hi-tech world, stories like “Charlotte’s Frequency” will drag horror kicking and screaming into the new century.

In “High Tide Coming” by Ken Goldman, as a child, Leah’s feelings of being wanted by the sea morphed one night into something dangerous. Since almost drowning, she’s had a violent fear of the sea she once loved. She tries to tell herself it’s all in her head, but the water is determined to claim her, one way or another. Feelings of dread and descriptions of the sea are built well, allowing the reader to practically scent the salt air. The end is a bit overexplained, but otherwise, the story successfully touches upon the traditional horror tools of fear and a skewed reality.

“Preacher Mike and the Black Cross Revelation” by Kevin L. Donihe is the stuff horror is made of—one part religion, one part zombies, and one part crazy. Charlie is a reformed drug addict turned religious man, and Father Mike claims to be the next Messenger of God after an “encounter” with angels. It feels like an explanation, a set-up for a longer piece, but the spinning dizziness of a tilted world runs the show. Fine writing and a huge dose of twisted imagination make this tale worth skipping forward to read.

“Reins in the Night Season” by Lorne Dixon is a western tale—contributing to the anthology’s mission to provide a wide range of horror—of betrayal, murder, and honor among black hats. When a man in their care dies, Phelps and his partner are bound by a sense of duty to honor his final request. Haunted by the memories of his daughter’s death and his wife’s mutilation, the man begs to be buried with a doll he bought his daughter. Phelps and his partner travel back past the border on their mission and find more than they bargained for, both in the dead man’s last wish and in the family he left behind.

In “Filth Eater” by Glen R. Krisch, a nameless homeless man wanders the street witnessing the cruelties of others and taking the worst of human emotion into himself in order to free them. Representing yet another kind of horror tale, “Filth Eater” is more a dark voyage through human brutality than driven by a traditional plot.

“Crushed Neem” by Kim Despins is a fiery ghost story boasting a chilling setting as it pits Sam against his own will. Despins puts a winning lottery ticket in front of Sam, and only a door—and the myriad of specters that haunt his apartment building, keeping him and his neighbors captive in what should be their safe haven—stand between Sam and his million dollars. The story reads effortlessly, its parts blended together like a fine recipe. While it’s neither the darkest nor the most horrific story in this anthology, it is a fine example of horror.

In “Drawn” by Daniel L. Naden, a couple is terrorized by their “special” daughter, inexplicably drawn by her strange eyes and living in fear of her strange powers. The narrator tells of their discovery of little Anna’s powers and their worries and denials along the way. Naden waffles between whether little Anna is evil or just an infant that happens to have superpowers. In one scene, Anna is a Hulk-like character with a base set of needs and wants and the means to get them, but essentially harmless at her core, and in the next, her parents act as though she were the incarnation of Rosemary’s baby. This vacillation weakens the end of what could have been a powerful story.

Peter Hynes’s “Meat-Boy” is a confusing tale about a morgue attendant who witnesses a soul crossing over. At times, the prose is stunning, at others, over the top, leaving the reader fighting to follow the story beneath the words. A second reading might be in order to be sure you don’t miss the conclusion.

Delilah is a single mother with something dark and wrong growing inside of her in Petra Miller’s “You’re A Good Girl, Delilah.” While stories pitting a protagonist against someone else as well as a mother versus her child are both familiar in horror, Miller makes this one a success by conveying a strong understanding of and insights about motherhood.

In “The Losers vs Beelphegor” by Mark Justice, a team of social misfits and potheads do battle with an ancient demon determined to get the world back under his thumb. Heavy on irony, this is one for the losers, those who feel they’ve never managed to accomplish anything and who may not realize how far the ripples of their actions can spread.

“We Fall On Each Other” by Paul Walther is a chilling, atmospheric tale set in a cabin in the country, starring two traumatized young adults. Gwen, the survivor of a vicious attack by several teenage boys, and Justin, who survived a violent attack by neighborhood dogs, find some relief with each other on Thanksgiving from being paraded before their respective relatives, bombarded by looks of horror and pity. But when darkness falls, they realize they aren’t alone. What haunts them is more solid than the nightmares of the attacks that changed their lives. The vague ending is appropriately doom-filled but left this reader wondering if a more solid conclusion would have strengthened it.

M. Louis Dixon’s “H19N1” doesn’t involve the supernatural unseen but rather the biological unseen. The man who won the Nobel Prize for finding a cure to avian influenza experiences emotional turmoil, and nothing is safe, nothing sacred, least of all the child he never knew he wanted until his wife stole him away. Capitalizing well on recent fears of pandemics and biological warfare, “H19N1” leaves no question as to how it earned its place in this anthology.

There are several “out there” stories in this anthology, but none are quite as bizarre or quite as understandable as “The Show Must Live On” by Matt Hults. Hults doesn’t try to play games with his prose; instead, he brings a sickly surreal feeling to the rotting remains of a not-quite-forgotten carnival and the family that keeps something highly profitable within. Jason and his father charge high prices for the use of Buttons the Clown and the strange fantasy fulfillment he brings. Their busy, and invariably rich, clients leave healthy and satisfied with the toys Buttons gives them. “The Show Must Live On” is one of the few stories in Horror Library Volume 2 that doesn’t have violence or gore in it. But that doesn’t keep it from being disturbing . . . on several levels.

In “White Balloon” by Matt Samet, a man walking his dog along the river finds a popped white balloon and then spends much of the story musing upon how it ended up there. But, after surrounding the balloon’s journey in an ominous atmosphere, the reason for the infusion of doom is revealed mere moment before the end. Creepy and unexpected, this is one of the best written offerings in the anthology.

Horror Library Volume 2 ends with a more traditional tale, “The Horror in the Bookstore” by Clinton Green. A cultured man on an endless quest for knowledge and rare books stumbles into the corruptive care of a foreign shopkeeper. The atmosphere of tranquility unravels bit by bit as comprehension dawns, making this a fine homage to H. P. Lovecraft.

All the stories in this anthology are fine examples of and additions to the genre of horror. Absent were clichés or repetitions upon tropes, and this volume easily lives up to the moniker, “Horror Library.”

Publisher: Cutting Block Press
Trade paperback price: $16.95