The Year's Best Dark Fantasy & Horror 2010
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
- Darkness surrounds us. We can find darkness anywhere: in a strange green stone etched with mysterious symbols; at a small town's annual picnic; in a ghostly house that is easy to enter but not so easy to leave; behind the dumpster in the alley where a harpy lives; in The Nowhere, a place where car keys, toys, people disappear to; among Polar explorers; and, most definitely, within ourselves. Darkness flies from mysterious crates; surrounds children whose nightlights have vanished; and flickers between us at the movie theater. Darkness crawls from the past and is waiting in our future; and there's always a chance that Halloween really is a door opening directly into endless shadow. Welcome to the dark. You may never want to leave.
- This inaugural volume of the year's best dark fantasy and horror features more than 500 pages of dark tales from some of today's finest writers of the fantastique. Chosen from a variety of sources, these stories are as eclectic and varied as the genre itself.
atmosphere of woodsmoke, rancid butter and human waste that I have come to associate with all such picturesque scenes in this country. Several boys, young monks, were first to greet us, laughing and ducking out of sight, then running ahead to alert their elders. We climbed switchback streets, perpetually urged and beckoned to the height of the pass. At last we entered a walled courtyard. A wide flight of steps soared to a pair of immense doors, presumably the entrance to the main temple. As
one side to catch his wife’s every word. That sharp underlying whisper became part of the film, like the experts’ comments during a televised sporting event. I half-toyed with the idea she was an expert herself. For example, she whispered how the man left his jacket draped over the chair, and she warned, correctly, that the plane tickets would spill out. She also predicted the moment when he realized his embarrassing connection to the heroine’s brother—the cad who’d tried to blackmail him into an
for us boys, and the hardest, bred as we are from two great tribes-ful of yearning. Not all of us can steady ourselves so, and none of us are balanced aright all of the time. We were all put to fishing, of course. Gratefully the older men passed us their places on the boats, while the ones with still a little fire in them leaped to ordering and instructing us with almost glee. It was good for us. It was better than sitting at home net-mending with the sadder dads. The sea was the best place for
swaying light fixture. The quesadillas are smoking and hissing on the pan. Joe wraps the little tooth back into the foil. Jody didn’t just go to the bathroom; she fled from the table. He’s not sure what he did, but clearly it was wrong, and he’s not sure if Jody is coming back. He waits, elbows on the table, hands making a steeple, and now she has been gone long enough that he considers going to the bathroom or the parking lot to find her. She does come back, walking as fast as her limp allows,
own waking-dream, some simple innocuous scene on which to focus and loop in his head until it relaxed him enough and he fell sleep. Tonight, in Joe’s crafted dream, he gets off the couch and walks into the kitchen, first pausing above the room’s borderline, where the hardwood meets the cracked linoleum. He fills a glass with tap water and drinks half, dumps the rest in the sink, then walks back to the couch, lies down, then starts it all up again, past the borderline and back to the kitchen