SHALLOW CREEK

Foreword

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Allow me to introduce myself, my little curious concubines.

My name is Mallum Colt—purveyor of all things occult and proprietor of a quaint curiosity shop located in the centre of a splendid town called Shallow Creek. I’m glad you found me, my little pineapple frittata, otherwise you could have blindly stumbled onwards, without realising the reason why you’re here … holding this tome of the macabre in your quivering hands.

There is little to distinguish Shallow Creek from any other fading boomtown on the outskirts of civilization. I’m sure you wouldn’t have given our little slice of heaven a second glance if I hadn’t beckoned you here. The night air, though cool, is painfully dry and dusty, the unpainted wooden buildings peppered with dry rot, but if you look closer you’ll see the subtlest of movements from the corner of your eye …

There’s a lot to for us to do, but if you’ll permit me a small indulgence, I’ll inform and guide you through Shallow Creek. You can quench your thirst at Jack’s Tavern, but make sure to tip the cantankerous bar owner, he’s known for his temper. For amusement there’s the dilapidated fairground, owned by Bubba Cody—and if you listen closely you might hear the distinct calliope music playing through the snaking tangle of streets … just be careful not to tread through Silverpine forest late at night, the Creek has countless reports of wild animals stalking the land or escapees from Arkady Asylum hiding out beside the Hanging Tree. There’s a lighthouse manned by the mysterious Jud, its bright beam of light forever guiding lost souls back to land. And don’t forget to check in with Gertrude Saggery, Shallow Creek’s resident witch.

This town loves me in ways no person ever has. And I love her just as fiercely. She listens to my footsteps, the clicking of my polished heels against her dirty pavements early on a Monday morning. She sees me smile from ear to ear when I marvel at the library’s windows as they reflect the orange glow of the afternoon sun. She hears my satisfied sigh in winter as the first sip of morning coffee warms my throat and thaws my freezing hands. The city sees and hears and feels every second of my life. This Town understands.

As you approach Shallow Creek, my little intrepid adventurer, you’ll become aware that something in this town is wrong. Despite the lateness of the hour, no light shines through the windows of each house. Instead, the town lies beneath a blanket of silence, the only source of light the fire burning beyond the northern border of the junkyard. On the face of it, my job did not appear too onerous; to repopulate the empty streets by publishing an anthology of tales so dark, so delightfully twisted and heinous that tourists could not resist but flock back in their droves to the town that sleeps with one eye open. I’m told that Dark Tourism is a roaring trade these days …

My first task was to create a competition to lure writers into town.

And how they came.

I assigned each of the hopeful participants a resident to base their story on and a location to investigate (you can check the map in this very book to see the areas of special interest). Lastly they were equipped with a single unique item … a totem, so to speak, to be included in their story. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to receive so many entries of such high quality, but what you now hold is a collection of ghoulish tales that summarise the quintessential ethereal aura of my town. You can find out more about the competition and Shallow Creek at STORGY.com—an online magazine dedicated to the short story form.

residentlocationitem But what is a short story, I hear you ask. Eager pundits love to explain that a short narrative piece must consist of a single situation, a short space of time, a defined cast of characters, a specified number of words, and so on and so on. My little terrifying avocados, these restrictive demands have existed for aeons, but what makes a spooky tale so gripping, so terrifying, so enthralling that you simply must read on until the frightful end? Such stories are terribly difficult to write. The best ghost stories, for instance, often do not involve a ghost. Or at least, you should not see the ghost. You should feel its presence by skilled and subtle means.

mustseeAs a small boy, I grew up reading anthologies of horror stories containing a delicious mix of spooky houses, abandoned theme parks, damp and darkened cellars, but they were far too often all un-themed. Presently, market forces dictate that anthologies should explore a specific theme, therefore we regularly read books and stories full of zombies, vampires, or ghosts. With Shallow Creek, there is an entire city to explore—from high schools and hospitals, to lighthouses and junkyards and forests and mines—Shallow Creek contains it all.

I see you have a predilection for the macabre, so let me whet your appetite with the following tales of terror. Does it feel heavy in your hands? Does it pulse with a faint ferocity? You can’t quite seem to close it, can you? That’s why I need you, dear reader … this book consumes all who risk to read it. This book of endless horror … is hungry …

To this day no rational mind or means can explain the horrors that took place in Shallow Creek—as you too, my little pina colada, will discover when you encounter the tales locked within these pages. So abandon any hope of escape. Abandon Hope. Right. Now.