Bitter Blossoms by Owen Carlysle

It’s the Cherry Blossom festival in Washington, D.C., and two old friends gather for a meal, but there is darkness in the night, and this gathering will end not as friends might wish. Carlysle’s brilliant handling of atmosphere, pathos, and setting bring a steady increase in an unexplainable sense of unease that explodes in the final paragraphs to a shocking and terrifying conclusion.

Warning: This eBook contains very disturbing and horrific content and parents should read this story prior to allowing a child in their care to do the same.
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Arthur smiled. “It’s the Cherry Blossom festival, Thomas. If the rest of the hotel is going to decorate and put Japanese art everywhere, so should we, right?” Arthur nodded, grudgingly, but used the provided chopsticks to take a thin disk of meat and place it in his mouth. His eyes lit up and Thomas felt pride and a bit of the old familiar pleasure he missed from his days as a culinary student.
“What’s the price point of this dish? God, it’s really good.”
“Always the auditor, Tommy. Can’t you just enjoy a meal?” Arthur smiled as he took a second bite and shook his head. “Oh fine. It’s part of a special tasting menu just for the festival, but if I were to price it separately, I would put it at eleven ninety-nine.”
“It tastes better than a twelve dollar appetizer. Jesus, we charge that much for a goddam Caesar salad.”
Arthur nodded. “Ah, but I know how to procure my supplies. If I keep food cost low, I can do anything.” He noticed Thomas’ glass was empty and poured another. “Did you see the two of us working together, Tommy? Did you see us ever working together?”
It was unexpected and somewhat bittersweet to see the way the stress that Thomas ordinarily carried with him like the busboys carried trays of dirty six-top dishes fade suddenly from his features. “You mean back in high school or college, Art?”
He hadn’t called him Art in half a decade. “I mean in college, when it became clear I wasn’t going to stay focused on business and you were transitioning away from operations into risk management anyway.”
Thomas chuckled softly. “I thought you were crazy. The failure rate of restaurants was like seventy-four percent back then, and I thought Lanie would never stay with you.” He shook his head. “I guess I figured on you failing for a decade and then me getting you a job wherever I ended up. Who would've guessed we’d end up in the same place?”

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Shivers by Jamie Page and Brandon Nichols

The calm of a suburban evening is shattered by a horrific murder. An average man and his beautiful wife are dead, killed in a horrific orgy of blood. A child is missing, and a disturbed man in a police interrogation room holds the key to everything. A detective is driven to arrive at the truth, but how can he possibly find truth in the mind of a man so deranged?

Warning: This eBook contains extremely disturbing and bloody imagery and is inappropriate for most children. Adults should read it in its entirety before allowing a teenager in their care to read this horror story.

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“Chelsea’s grin. You cut the corners of the mouth and when the victim screams, she makes the cuts bigger so it’s a permanent grin.”
“I thought that was a Glasgow grin.”
“Fuck, I never heard that.”
The cartoonish evil smile might have been the least disturbing aspect of the body. Matted hair stuck to her face, and then the smile, but from there down the sight was a butcher shop horror. Blood—dull greyish black in the photographs—covered the fabric of her pajamas, what was visible.
“Her top—was it cut or torn open.”
“You mean the pajamas?”
“Yeah.”
“I got the usual bullshit about not knowing for sure until he gets to the lab, but it looks like the fucker cut the buttons off. He wasn't looking for titties, though.”
No. He wasn't  Stab wounds covered her neck and throat, at least a dozen of them. Arterial spray painted the walls behind and to the left of the body. Her eyes remained open, and the detective shook his head.
“Was there any evidence of sexual assault?”
“He couldn't see any at the scene. At least no vaginal or anal. We won’t know about oral until they’re done taking the barbed wire off. They haven’t checked the wound yet, but…well fuck I don’t even want to think about that.”
“Yeah.” He didn't want to think about it either. He scanned downward at the main wound. “Was she alive?”
“No way to tell, but probably not. Once he cut open her chest, the blood would've stopped pumping, wouldn't have made the mess on the walls.”
The detective looked at the hole between her breasts, the jagged tear and the protruding ribs. “Good.” He pointed at the pool of blood beneath her wrists. “Could have bled out here, too.”
“Yeah, struggles with the wire and it slices the wrists.”
“What’s that?”
“The barbed wire. She could have struggled—”
“Not that.” He pointed to her blood-soaked lap. “What’s that?”
“Jesus, Patton. You gonna make me say it? That’s her fucking heart.”

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Drusilla's Mirror by Jamie Page

Drusilla reminisces with her sister about their misadventures and of course the one misadventure that defines them, the revenge killing of her boyfriend. The dark exploration of sinister and disturbed lives intertwined in murder is sure to keep you up late at night with the lights on, just hoping that sound in the hallway is only your imagination.

Warning: This eBook contains very graphic and horrific imagery. Parents should read this in its entirety before allowing a child in their care to read it.

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“He smiled and asked what was I doing there, do you remember? I told him I just wanted to see if I had a chance, and then you came out. Before he could even blink his eyes, we were on him like wolves. We tore at his flesh like ravenous beasts. He screamed in agony and tried his best to get us off. Ha! There was no way that he was getting away from us. After what he did, he was going to pay. Lifting his limp body up and putting it in the trunk was hard, but we did it. The look of shock on his face made me laugh. You on the other hand, were as calm as I have ever seen you. You had it all planned out and I was along for the ride. He was already a bloody mess, but then the fun started. 

“I wanted to play as well, but you didn't want to share with me in this one. I understood so I backed away, found a chair, and enjoyed the show. You walked around him ever so slowly, come to think about it, you actually looked like you were walking on a runway. You looked beautiful. You slowly got to your knees, put your hand on his chin, and brought his face up to meet your gaze. You began to kiss him. That kiss was a passionate one, and you said to him? Oh what was it again; yeah I remember now, that it was a kiss before you die. He let out such a moan, I laughed in spite of myself. You turned around and glared at me. You actually had daggers in your eyes, at me of all people.”

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Charlie's Ritual by Arthur Pendryll

Charlie just didn't listen. Charlie insisted on performing the ritual from the strange ancient book with the imperfections on the leather. Charlie wouldn't listen to reason. And now he was dead. He was dead in a pool of blood in the center of the pentagram that was supposed to protect him, and I had to escape from all his ritual had wrought.

Warning: This eBook contains very graphic and disturbing imagery. Adults should read this story in order to determine if it is appropriate for a minor in their care.

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It was my fault, really. When I saw the binding with the interesting spine work and the matrix of irregular imperfections in the leather, the book was as good as bought. He’d found me in the aisle and immediately put down the four volumes of an 1886 edition of Dickens’ works and voted in favor of the book instead. Even then, we might have been safe had someone not translated some of the strange calligraphy into English on five nearly transparent sheets of paper, the ink faded but still legible and telling tales of demons, wealth, revenge, and love. I wanted the book. I wanted the leather, the art, the ink, and the pulp. Charlie wanted the content, the rituals, and the promises.
He shouldn't have performed that ritual. It was just that simple. He thought it was a silly joke but I knew the truth. It wasn't just a gag, a joke, a parlor game—the lettering was so strange, and somehow just looking at it made me sick. The five pages were filled with the normal crap, and he glanced through them. There were typical love potions and slavery curses and such but of course Charlie went straight to the summoning ritual on the last page. I told him to leave it alone. He didn't listen. He never listened.

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The Beast in the Mine by Arthur Pendryll

Spald arrives at the business of his potential employer and is hired to find and destroy a creature interfering with the operations of a lucrative mine. He doesn't take too seriously the doomsday stories of almost a dozen hunters already killed by the beast, but he does take seriously the opportunity to recover eleven pouches of gems. As he explores the mine, though, he can’t help but face the truth—this is no fanciful fear brought on by superstition. Instead, an all-to-real native beast threatens the colonists who lost touch with Earth decades before.

Warning: This ebook contains graphic and disturbing images. Adults should read this story in order to determine if it's appropriate for a child in their care.

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Were it not for the smell of death, which had grown considerably stronger over the last hour, Spald still would have believed there was nothing here. The stench had grown powerful and strong, and he checked his coordinates over and over to ensure the air was still breathable and safe. Finally, for comfort he pressed the button on his suit and the visor came back up over his head. In moments, the stale recycled air, filtered and flat, replaced the stench.
He saw the body on the floor of the cavern seconds before his machine would have run over it. He stopped the machine, glanced around, saw nothing, and stepped out. He walked over and shook his head sadly. He knew this man. It was Reiyncan. The two of them had worked together on similar quests. In fact, if Spald was forced to decide who the greatest of his kind were, he would rank the man in front of him in the top.
Reiyncan’s visor was shattered and half of his face was gone. By the looks of it, the violence had occurred a month or two prior.

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Charlotte and the Hunting Man by Arthur Pendryll

Charlotte has been tormented and horrified by thought of the Hunting Man roaming free in the forest near her cottage. Nonetheless, she ventures out in the night, unable to resist the call of the wind and the forest. Too late, she realizes the Hunting Man is after her, and a night of terror follows. How can she survive? How can she get back to her cabin, and how can she live a life free of the torments of the unending hunt?
This ebook contains very graphic and disturbing images. An adult should read this content carefully to determine if it is appropriate for a child in that adult’s care. 


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She realized, with a strange sense of calm, that he was either going to find her or he wasn’t. If he didn’t find her, she might make it home. Or she might die. It was a strange sense of calm, a detached way of looking at things, and she was surprised that she wasn’t in an utter panic. Ultimately, the decisions were no longer Charlotte’s, and it gave her a strange comfort. The rest of the night would be up to him, and not her; and her removal from the equation was oddly helpful. Up in the tree, the breeze was cooler and more insistent, and she realized how desperately she loved the night air, loved to be out in it. Even if he found her and nearly killed her, she knew that another night would find her in the woods if she were able.

She wondered why the Hunting Man and others like him were so insistent on preying on her. Wondered why in these woods, in particular, did they seem to find joy in this kind of a hunt? Above all, she wondered why the hell, she’d decided to do this today. Why on this particular night had she gone out knowing the dangers? There were, probably thousands of safer nights. Probably, hundreds of nights she felt a stronger desire to leave her cabin. The Hunting Man wanted her tonight. This was the night she went out; this was the one, and she was paying for it now.

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Dark Eyes Press

It's getting oh-so-exciting here at Dark Eyes Press, and we're bringing you the macabre works of Arthur Pendryll and Jamie Page. Check out their pages to the left to buy them, and soon you'll be looking at your own world through Dark Eyes.