Pearlskin, or the Oysterman’s Wife now available in If There’s Anyone Left, Volume 3

Two posts in as many days—who am I and what have I done with Elou? Fear not, I am still the same word-fueled goblin child. Only now, I have another publication to share, which is always my favourite thing to share. If There’s Anyone Left, Volume 3, is now available in both ebook and print and I am so very excited! I’ve been looking forward to this one, not only because I adore my dark fairy tale flash fiction, but because I am sharing this table of contents with one of my favourite writers—and people—Taylor Rae, whose story, “The Light Will Leave You Warmer”, is one of the most beautiful pieces of flash fiction you will ever read.

My own story, “Pearlskin, or the Oysterman’s Wife”, is a dark fairy tale about an oysterman who dredges a bride from the bottom of the ocean and I love it a lot.

If you’d like to snag a copy, you can do so here.

Euan, who has not bathed in days, still smells like the sea and when he steps into the bathroom, she emerges at the scent, her wet head cresting the water so only her eyes are visible over the tub. 

The Oysterman’s wife looks at him as if she wants to kiss him or curse him, kill him or crawl inside him and curl up into the shell of his spine. 


Interview with FlashBack Fiction

November and December are always manic in the day job so, naturally, I completely forgot to post about the fab little interview I did with the wonderful beings behind FlashBack Fiction to support the publication of “I Am Held in the Hands of God Who Is Named Walter Potter; or, from the Case of ‘The Death and Burial of Cock Robin’”. I love little interviews.

If you wondered where the inspiration came from or what historical flash fiction I would recommend you read, do check it out!

As is customary, here is an out-of-context snippet to pique your interest:

My partner would like me to answer this one with: we are both deceased.

What does it mean? Who is this ‘we’ of which I speak? Find out by clicking here.

I Am Held in the Hands of God Who Is Named Walter Potter; or, from the Case of ‘The Death and Burial of Cock Robin’ out now on FlashBack Fiction

One of the strangest—perhaps the strangest—stories I have ever written has been unleashed into the great wide world today. “I Am Held in the Hands of God Who Is Named Walter Potter; or, from the Case of ‘The Death and Burial of Cock Robin’” is a little flash fiction from the perspective of a taxidermy owl, and I love it very, very much. (I told you it was strange.)

I have a little interview coming out later this week about this piece so I won’t say too much about it here, but it’s something I’ve wanted to write for quite a long time.

If you would like to read it, or listen to me reading it, you can do so here.

As is customary, here is a little snippet:

In his tableau, I am named Gravedigger, I am named Owl; we are one in the same. In this glass case, we are a still-image, a burial ourselves, performing another. God has named us The Death and Burial of Cock Robin, see him there in his small coffin. See how we mourn. Yes, child. Yes. Press your button nose against the glass. See how plush our feathers. See how solemn we carry him.


Pre-order CloisterFox Zine Issue Two, featuring In Which Our Lovers Surely Drown

This is one of my favourite forthcoming publications for several reasons. Firstly, CloisterFox is a British publication. It always feels really special when my work is picked up in the UK—and my parents, wonderful and supportive as they are, like to purchase copies of my work, so it’s nice to save them a bit on shipping.

Secondly, CloisterFox is gorgeous. I was lucky enough to snag a copy of issue one, and it’s one of the single most stunning publications I’ve seen. I cannot wait to see what the interior of issue two looks like. If the cover is anything to go by, I am going to fall deeply in love.

Finally, this short story has one of my favourite titles. I love a good title, and this one has been haunting me for a while before its story emerged. “In Which Our Lovers Surely Drown” was slow to reveal itself, but once it did it became a story that I just couldn’t stop writing. I really hope you enjoy it.

You can expect:

🌊an abandoned yacht
🌊a journalism student
🌊mysterious wet footprints
🌊an uneaten banquet
🌊poor mobile phone signal

If you want a beautifully designed selection of spooky, watery tales, you can pre-order a copy here.

Priya casts a glance at the darkening sky. There are no clouds and, with the sun now hidden away beneath the horizon, there is no colour either. Just a flat sheet of grey. The emptiness is oppressive. Somewhere along the coast, the beam of a lighthouse rounds into being, but Priya, Masud and the broken boats are too far away for the lighthouse keeper to see them. 

We’re going to be out here all night.


Here We Go Round the Hardy Tree forthcoming in They Came From the Closet (pre-orders now live!)

It’s been a while. Hello, ghosts and ghouls. How have you been? I have been all kinds of hazy, which has been an experience, but I have also been avidly scribbling away (like I do). I’m so happy to be making this post. Today, I received a wonderful acceptance for one of my favourite stories—this one had a hard time finding a home, but I am so happy with the home it ended up haunting.

And so, without further ado, I have a story forthcoming in the Prismatica Magazine hallow-zine, They Came From the Closet.

My story, “Here We Go Round the Hardy Tree”, features

🍃the Hardy Tree, which is my favourite real-life tree and you should look it up
🪦St. Pancras Gardens, home of the aforementioned tree
👻a lot of ghosts, including the ghost of a walrus (the walrus is real too, or was, anyway)
👧and a girl who is definitely not afraid of the dark and absolutely does not believe in ghosts

If that sounds like your jam and you like spooky LGBTIQA+ stories, poems, essays and art, as well as spooky stories, poems, essays and art by LGBTIQA+ writers and artists… you can preorder it here.

As is customary, here is a little snippet to whet your whistle:

Pilarie Johnson is not afraid of the dark and that, she tells herself, is why she hasn’t turned on her flashlight. It is not because she doesn’t want to see the photons scatter when they meet the dead and go from a beam to a hazy glow, making the apparitions solid, just like headlights on fog, like she learnt in Science class—because ghosts do not exist and Pilarie Johnson does not believe in them anyway.


Additionally, the wonderful Their Ghoulish Reputation is available right now, and you can purchase it from the Dark Lake Publishing website! 

I can’t wait to get my hands on a copy!

Houses of Usher, out now!

Hello, my darkest darlings. It seemed about time that I had an Edgar Allan Poe-inspired story out in the world, what with who I am as a person and everything; and so, I am thrilled to announce that Love Letters to Poe Volume II: Houses of Usher is now available to purchase. This purple dreamboat is the second in a series of anthologies inspired by the works of Edgar Allan Poe, and contains thirty pieces of gothic delight.

My story, “Good and Kind and Gone, All Gone”, features:

🏚️a good, kind man
🏚️a tortured brother
🏚️a dead sister
🏚️alliterative sibling names

Houses of Usher is available in hardback, paperback, ebook and large print.

If you’d like something to wet your whistle, here is the opening line of “Good and Kind and Gone, All Gone” for your delectation and delight.

The night the house split in two, Lucine was already dead.

You Hope, Through Shivers and Sweat now live in Haven Speculative issue five!

Nothing like a publication day to make feeling like death a little bit more bearable. As I’m feeling like death, this will only be a little update. It is apt then, I suppose, that today’s new story is a ghost story. Sort of. “You Hope, Through Shivers and Sweat” is a second-person, eerie sideshow of a story and I hope you love it as much as I do. I also love Haven Speculative, and I am so glad this story found a home there. The entire issue is excellent and just look at that cover. Stunning.

You follow dumbly. You want to rip your fingers away from his, experience be damned. You would apologise to your mother later, or pretend you stayed, pretend you witnessed wonderful things. But you can’t, you can’t even try, such is his power—his voice may be a door, but his grasp is the lock, and it is rusted shut. When you think to pull away, your hand only tightens around his, unbidden.

He pulls you to the next curtain and you hope, through shivers and sweat, that this one will be different.


Holy Water Makes My Wicked Throat Smooth published in The Crow’s Quill

It’s the first day of a new month and I have a new story out in the wild! This story would not exist without this magazine, this theme and Damon Barrett Roe, one of the CQ editors, who tweeted about it at exactly the right time. I was supposed to be writing something else, but this strange little story sank its stone teeth into my skull and wouldn’t let me continue writing the other story until I’d given it words to eat.

“Holy Water Makes My Wicked Throat Smooth” is now live in The Crow’s Quill issue 12. In this story, terrible people who make terrible decisions are met with terrible consequences. It begins thus,

I am terrible, and because I am terrible, I have become stone.

If you like that and would like to read more, click here!

Become a Flute, Become a Spyglass, Become a Knife makes Top 10 in the Ladies of Horror Fiction Readers’ Choice Awards

This is this is so exciting. I know I say this about everything, but I am both very excitable and everything is very exciting. (At least, everything I post about.) But now I am rambling. Ahem. To the point! My 2021 story, “Become a Flute, Become a Spyglass, Become a Knife” from Quill & Crow’s delightfully dark anthology Grimm & Dread has made the top 10 in the first ever Ladies of Horror Fiction Readers’ Choice Awards. As I say a lot these days: I am giddy.

If you’ve not had a chance to give it a read, you can pick up a copy here!

Interview up now on Luna Station Quarterly

It’s a busy week. Alongside “Tatterdemalion, or of Apple Bough and Straw”, LSQ were lovely enough to interview me about my sad, strange little fairy tale, as well as all things writing. I love getting the chance to talk about words and putting them in a pretty order, so, naturally, I was thrilled.

Here’s a little taster on the making of the wiswoad:

‘Wis’ is from ‘wish’ and ‘woad’ is from both ‘wode’ (an archaic word for mad or wild) and ‘toad’. The wiswoad was originally more green and toadish, but then it grew a long nose and a purple hat and became something quite different. I wanted a name which you could imagine a crow saying too.

(Did I try to caw it when coming up with the name? Absolutely. Have I done it again just now? Also, yes.)

If you liked that and want to read the rest of the interview, click here!