REVIEW: Teenage Grave | Filthy Loot, Ed. Ira Rat

Teenage Grave from Filthy Loot

Filthy Loot consistently puts out good product, and the press’s latest release is no exception.

This is a nice and tight anthology, coming in at just 70 pages, and can easily be read in one sitting. Every paragraph is compelling, and each story is paced nicely, with good payoff endings.

Jo Quenell hits it out of the park, as always, with “Stale Air.” Creepy and sad.

Sam Richard’s “I Know Not the Names of the Gods to Whom I Pray” is a look at visceral grief and bereavement after the death of a romantic and sexual partner. Sam’s writing punches you right in the gut, over and over, and his descriptions of gore are always fantastic. (check out more from Sam at WeirdpunkBooks.com)

“Apate’s Children” is the first work I’ve read by Brendan Vidito, and I really enjoyed it. Creative interpretation of guilt and atonement. Really imaginative use of mythological reference here, too.

Justin Lutz‘s “Start Today” gave made my stomach churn, gave me chills, and left me with my jaw hangin’ on the floor, in that order. Loved it. Great way to end.

I don’t hesitate when I give this book a 5-star rating. Filthy Loot had introduced to me so many authors whose work I love, and I’m excited to see what they have coming up next for us.

Follow Filthy Loot editor, Ira Rat on Twitter @eyerarat, and me @evanstjones

Review: Dale Robertson | Project Fear: Season 1

Domestic, familial horror. Sentimental. Suburban. Dale Robertson’s Project Fear is a collection of horror stories that inspire nostalgia for the 90s kid in me. With tales that sit comfortably next to those that were told on television shows like Are You Afraid of the Dark? and Goosebumps, this collection is one that will satiate the hunger of anyone who fondly recalls being spooked as a child.

Most of the stories revolve around families and children, and I assume Robertson is a dog person, seeing as many of the episodes feature man’s best friend in starring roles, which I also appreciate. 

Some of the episodes that stood out to me:

Episode 2: “Chew Toy” deals with the loss of a family pet, and how desperation to memorialize it (as well as procrastinating shopping for a birthday present) can lead to despair.

Episode 5 reminds me of stories about Dybbuk boxes. A little girl finds an odd music box at a yard sale and takes it home to find it impossible to open. Little does she know, this box will change her life forever.

Episode 7: “Stitches” recalls urban legends parents would tell their children to keep them from misbehaving. 

Episode 9 is a continuation of episode 4. Both are written as transcripts from a voice recording of a man who witnesses mass violence and chaos as people begin transforming into monsters. I love the found footage vibe from this set of stories.

Episode 10 is a revenge story of a femme fatale who kidnaps skeezy car salesmen who manipulate and take advantage of women in order to close a sale. This one gave me Saw/The Hunger Games vibes, and was a lot of fun!

Episode 12: Skee-bo. A violent, modern retelling of the Bloody Mary myth. 

Like mentioned before, if you’re a fan of shows like Are You Afraid of the Dark? and Creepshow, this is the collection for you! With 13 spine-tingling tales, you’re sure to find one or two that suit your fancy.

Follow Dale on Twitter @Dale_Dez81 and me @EvanStJones.

“Antlers” by Evan St. Jones @ Serotonin Poetry

I wrote a short piece of prose about depression called “Antlers.” Serotonin Poetry published it on their site.

I’m thrilled, as this is my first piece I’ve had accepted by a publication. I’m excited to keep writing and submitting short stories, but having this little piece accepted is certainly a milestone I’ll always remember.

Check it out here:

“Antlers” by Evan St. Jones

Follow me on Twitter @ evanstjones and Serotonin @ serotoninpoetry

What am I doing?

I started this blog to share written and visual works that are still mostly all in my head. I haven’t written creative fiction I wanted to share with anyone in at least ten years, and I’ve recently found myself compelled to write. More than that, I want to write and then show it to people.

a picture for reference of me not knowing what I’m doing

I think a big part of me has always been looking for a creative outlet that suits me. I’ve always believed that I have a lot inside that is screaming for expression, but I’ve never been able to find a medium that can encapsulate it. I’ve started six short stories over the past month, and they’re each coming along at their own pace.

I recently decided to do some writing exercises by choosing a prompt from a collection called Dog Doors to Outer Space (ed. Amy M. Vaughn) a couple times a week and just see what happens. I started and finished my first prompt tonight. What I had imagined ending up being sort of flash of micro fiction somehow turned into 1.2k words. I wrote a short story based on what would happen if you started receiving by mail all the trash you had thrown away in your life. It was fun, and something I probably would have never considered writing about myself.

I’ll post that story sometime in the next few days. I still have work to do on the site. I’m not sure what to do with it. It’s ugly, but I’m all out of design ideas. Oh well.

I might use this platform as a space for more traditional blogging as well. I recently told a friend it has been quite a while since I felt confident sharing my thoughts and feelings online, but now that I plan on sharing things that came from inside of me, I may as well share the feelings that swirl around my brain with all the weird ideas in there. We’ll see what happens.

It’s close to midnight when I’m writing this. I hope anyone who stumbles upon this is having an okay day. The world is shit, but we can overcome some of that horror by helping each other find joy with a little bit of art and a whole lot of heart.

Evan

PS: I don’t generally find myself to be as cheesy as I was in that last paragraph there. Forgive me. But there’s a fucking pandemic happening and the U.S. is in shambles. Let’s be cheesy.