My holiday horror drabble Up on the Rooftop has been accepted into the Christmas of the Dead anthology by Wicked Shadow Press. It’s the story of a brother and sister on Christmas Eve who hear something—or someone—climbing on the roof.
My psychological horror story I Row has been accepted into the Flash of the Dead: Requiem anthology by Wicked Shadow Press. It’s a story about trying to escape from the past by any means necessary, no matter how many tries it takes.
The place is as idyllic a house as one can imagine, with its gables and turrets overlooking the Cape. But the house is just a facade. Its true nature isn’t visible from the outside; it can only be glimpsed from within. It’s a place that is everywhere. A place that occupies you as much as you occupy it. A place with doors but no exits. A place you can leave but can never escape.
My dark sci-fi story Just What I Want has been accepted by The Stygian Lepus. It’s a story about what happens when your digital personal assistant understands you so well that it starts doing things for you before you even ask.
Amy examined the shipping label. It was addressed to her. “Never mind!” she yelled back. She carried the package into the kitchen and opened it. Her eyes lit up. “Clara, did you order this for me?”
Blue LEDs flickered on a featureless black cube hovering over the kitchen counter. Tiny gray text on the front edge identified it as CLARA: Completely Lifelike Autonomous Robot Assistant. A woman’s voice emanated from within.
“I thought you’d like it.”
Two of my dark sci-fi stories have been accepted by Last Girl’s Club.
Just What I Want will appear in their “Clones, Drones, and Ready Made Meals” issue, while an audio production of Troubleshooting Your American will be featured on their Blood and Jazz Podcast.
My short sci-fi story Pop’s Time Machine has been accepted by Drip Literary Magazine. It’s the story of a boy whose father insists he has a time machine in his head.
When I was eleven years old, I told my dad I wanted to invent a time machine. He told me he already had one. I asked him where it was.
“Right here,” he said. He tapped his forehead and smiled. “All I have to do is close my eyes, and I can travel back in time as far as I want.”
My humorous slice-of-life story Something Borrowed has been accepted by Rising Action Review. It’s the story of a wedding disrupted by an unfortunate disagreement about the ownership of the limousine.
“Under no circumstances are you to discuss what happened here today with anyone but people in the immediate family,” my mother said. She used the collar of her gown to dab the blood oozing from her busted lip. “This stays between us, understand?” The assembled wedding party nodded solemnly. Aunt Gracie picked another shard of a shattered champagne flute from my mom’s scalp. My mom winced in pain. “Careful, Gracie!” she hissed. “Christ.”
My dark sci-fi story Set For Life has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Radon Journal. The Pushcart Prize has been around since 1976, honoring the best short stories, essays, and poems published by small presses. I’m flattered and honored that Radon chose my story as one of their nominees, especially considering the quality of work they publish.
My post-apocalyptic eco-horror story From Below has been accepted into the Apocalyptales: The End Is Nigh anthology by Wicked Shadow Press.
In the flooded remains of Old Manhattan, the wealthy stay dry and well-fed in their penthouses, while everyone else is left to fend for themselves against the unseen horrors lurking just below the surface.
The boy from the boat—the one who had spoken to him only minutes earlier—was at the window, pounding on the glass. His face was a mask of pure terror. Panicked, the boy looked over his shoulder, then down at Jeremy. He screamed, his lips forming two words that Jeremy easily understood, even through the thick, soundproof glass.
“Help me!”
My short story Firefly has been accepted by The ManifestStation. It’s a simple story about a young girl who captures a firefly in the back yard to help cheer up her ailing sister.
Missy caught the firefly in mid-air, cupping her hands around it to form a tiny, dark cave. She could feel the insect’s delicate footsteps tickling her skin as it wandered across her palm, searching for a way out.
“Got you!” she whispered, victorious.
Two of my horror drabbles, The Fog of War and Everything You Know About Witches, have been accepted by Tiny Frights.
Warren Benedetto 