(sung to “Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer”)

You know Dracula and Frankenstein,

and werewolves and aliens.

Giant spiders and lizards,

demons and phantoms.

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Twas the Night of the Zombie Apocalypse, when nothing at all was very well,
All sorts of creatures were stirring, even by dead neighbor, Bob, right where he fell.
Random boards and furniture were hung over the doors and sash,
in hopes the Army arriving, before having to dash. (more…)

Judy Whittaker poured herself a serious brandy. All right, she knew she probably shouldn’t, but this case had aroused some old demons. Outside, the night shone with the images of the reclaimed Hague, its spires and skyscrapers, a familiar sight for sore eyes and an acheing heart.

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Her skin stretched perversely, as though the abomination tried to free itself from her womb. Two tiny hands attempted to breach the mother’s distended stomach. Pallid flesh whitened to a point near translucence. Awareness of the grotesque happenings inside her belly seemed fractional as she went on muttering incomprehensible gibberish. Torrents of sweat rolled off her brow. An occasional groan was my only indication some part of her mind remained lucid. Veins had become rapidly more visible throughout her withered frame. My mind clotted with doubt this woman might survive the birthing. Any virtuous principle I once may have relished fell to its knees praying for some hope this child might escape unscathed by the plague gripping its progenitor. (more…)

I downed my third whiskey for the night and gazed across the valley, toward the Hydra Houses with the mythical kraken emblazoned on their frontages, and not for the first time, a lump came to my throat.

Damn it, she’s gone. Gone for good. Why can’t I forget her? Do I even want to? I loved her so much, ever since that day in the Andamans when I saw her for the first time, slashing and ripping and tearing apart the zeds on the distant shore. Yet, when she came to my bed the first time that night, we were soon lost in each others eyes and bodies. (more…)

The day before the dead came, Ani torched every slip of our sheet music and flooded Hart Street in smoke. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she said, reaching out and trailing five elegant fingers through the haze. “My life’s work, literally gone up in smoke.”

Ani was a singer–songwriter, too, and quick on guitar–with a voice like cigarette fire and ripped silk. (more…)

The chiaroscuro images flickered on the aged television set, as Walter Neff looked up at the spectacle of Phyllis Diedrichson, her shapely leg and the anklet bracelet on it. Nearby, Alicia gasped at the spectacle: “Oh wow. This is it, isn’t it? Double Indemnity, the film noir classic they told us about at film school this week? Where did you get it from, Karl?” (more…)

“Go on, Nash, get it over with.”  Ramon gestured toward the stream of cars rushing by in the California twilight.

The younger zombie stared at the careening traffic.  “They’re moving awfully fast.”

“Yes, and that’s good.  They won’t be able to avoid you.” (more…)

Please note that there has been a minor change to the submission guidelines, and has been noted on the main “submit” page. Please bear these changes in mind when sending us your work. (more…)