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Blank Tapes Volume Zero: blank tapes
Blank Tapes Volume Zero: blank tapes
Blank Tapes Volume Zero: blank tapes
Ebook31 pages25 minutes

Blank Tapes Volume Zero: blank tapes

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In this special edition of 'blank tapes' we focus on a single author. Five tales of the Weird and Dangerous that promise to keep you up at night...

'Chicken' shows us that even when we know that not everything is as it seems, the truth can still be unexpected. While in 'Blood Will Out' the inevitable brings with it a sense of doom. For 'The Goblin' we take a detour to another world where there is no escape from the horrors of the beyond. And how do can you even begin to escape when the very thing you fear is all around you? In 'Aphotic' we find out the only solution. Finally meet 'Mr Sikes', he's not who you think he is, but who's to say?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 30, 2018
ISBN9781386888857
Blank Tapes Volume Zero: blank tapes

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    Book preview

    Blank Tapes Volume Zero - Paul Huxley

    Foreword

    WELCOME TO THIS SPECIAL edition of ‘blank tapes’, a primer for all things weird and dangerous. For this volume we’ve focused on a single author giving us a brief insight into the strange world caught in the static noise between moments.

    If you wish to keep up to date with the latest releases from Twin Monocle Publishing think about subscribing to our mailing list. You’ll receive infrequent updates on the latest news, as well as offers, free stories, and the chance to get our books before anyone else. For your trouble you’ll receive a novella,‘The Positively True Adventures of Albion Roddles, Cave Gentle-man of Renown’ absolutely free.

    -We’re all blank tapes just waiting for the signal-

    HUX

    25/06/18

    Chicken

    IT WASN’T IMMEDIATELY apparent that the chicken had nothing to do with the strange circumstances in which Ruskin now found himself. It was however an unfailing portent.

    Cock-a-doodle-doo. The awkward onomatopoeia reproduced down to the syllable. Just why people who lived in cities, with access to shops that sold chicken meat and eggs, would keep livestock in their back gardens was beyond Ruskin and he had no intention of asking one of these perverse people to fill that gap in his knowledge. But there it was, regular as clockwork accompanying his daily commute.

    He woke at seven and was out of the house by quarter to eight. The bus stop was two streets over, a simple short walk which he enjoyed. On a whim one day he had decided to walk another way, unsure if there even was another way for him to take. He did however find a short cut. A small alley between a row of houses and the garden of the house opposite along which ran a tall fence. The alley stank of dog urine and was lined with nettles. Incompetent graffiti splashed the otherwise featureless grey wall while the fence remained untouched. The artists who frequented this al-fresco gallery had rightly identified the fence as a very poor canvass. It consisted of tall slats arranged at a slight angle so that they barely overlapped one another without touching. A second row of slats had

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