Time to dabble in a little spook. #HorrorAnthology




What better way to call in the season than snuggled up in your favourite chair. Listen! ‘Shhhush’ is it the howl of the wind? A beastly growl, or the sound of conjured spells?
A book packed with writers imaginings, open the pages in this book to reveal the secret tales within. Your reading style will never be the same again as you delve into the minds of sixteen Authors and dare to read what it is they see.

Our pre-order price for this fabulous anthology is available for a limited time to grab yours while the price is low.

Spellbound: A horror anthology, with 27 stories from sixteen Authors (The Box Under The Bed book 4) eBook: Compiled by Dan Alatorre, USA today’s best selling Author, Robbie Cheadle, Ellen Best, Kaye Booth, Alana Turner, Geoff LePard, Christine Valentor, Nick Vossen, AM Andrus, Adele Marie Park, Daniel Alatorre, Victoria Clapton, MD Walker, Dabney Farmer, MJ Mallon, Ernesto San Giacomo, Betty Valentine, Frank Parker, Joanne Larner, Maribel Pagan. Each one an award winning author.

Pre-order Here

For a short time only, the previous ebooks in this set of anthologies will be free, in return, we ask you to review a story that gripped you; or the book as a whole.
Dark Visions, Nightmareland and the box under the bed. Get the set Here

Childs face on loan from pixabay.co.uk

Let me know your thoughts in the comments. My excitement is practically palpable the closer we get to release day. Thrilled again to have another of my tales in Dan Alatorre’s collection, I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Solstice.

Our journey home to Somerset takes us within a fifth of a mile of the stones. Tonight the date is Saturday the twentieth  of June, the time eleven twenty pm, the night of the Summer solstice.
Sadness surrounds me as my mind clicks relentlessly through memories of Dad. It is almost morning and that means I face my first fatherless father’s day. At that moment the traffic stops and I wipe my eyes to look where all the people are walking. Hundreds of bodies wrapped up for the Solstice, moving like a huge snake on it’s  determined journey home. I hear a hum of energy and glimps the smiles on expectant faces. A huge foglit space that cast eerie shaddows from the stones; across the grassy space. Lighting up portaloos with queues far too long to have suited my bladder had I been waiting.
Druids, new agers, travellers, and some i swear were dressed as Dr Who, trooped across the makeshift temporary crossing, giving access to the Henge.
A perfect crescent hung in the sky, and as if by magic the clouds gathered and navigated around it; not wanting to marr the atmosphere or steal the moon’s limelight.
I was reminded of the times we came with our Dad, hide and seek around the stones followed by a  picnic,of smiths crisps with a knot of salt in the bag ,and cheese and chutney sandwiches; eaten with ghusto so we had time to be fairies , witches and warlocks.
We lived by the smaller Henge not far away in Avebury, where at least once a day we’d  play, imagine, and create an escape into lands that only live in childrens heads… unless of course the child grows to be like me.
Soon the traffic cleared and so did any sad thoughts of mine. Dad passed in October 2014, but at this moment I can say without a tear or a doubt, Happy Fathers day Dad; because i know he can hear.

Stone Henge Somerset.

image

Avebury’s Henge  in wiltshire

image