The Standarounds of Twilight Gardens (Hallowind Cove, Book 5) by Cora Buhlert

Release date: December 17, 2018

Subgenre: Cozy Fantasy

About The Standarounds of Twilight Gardens:

 

Sinister shadows menace a family…

Strange things keep happening in the quirky little seaside town of Hallowind Cove, earning it the nickname "Harbour of the Weird".

When the Hutchinson family buy the beautiful Beauregard mansion on Gloomland Street, they believe they've made the deal of a lifetime.

But unfortunately, no one told them about the fog that envelops Hallowind Cove for three hundred and forty days a year. Or about the mysterious shadows that stand around Twilight Gardens, staring at random houses…

This is a short story of 3300 words or approximately 14 pages in the Hallowind Cove series, but may be read as a standalone.

 

Excerpt:

 

It was a Saturday night, the Hutchinsons’ first Saturday night in Hallowind Cove. Emma was sleeping peacefully in her cot, so Dave and Jennifer settled down on the sofa in the living room to watch a horror movie.
On the screen, the masked killer was just about to slash the throat of his first victim, the blonde and bitchy cheerleader who’d slept with the entire highschool football team and who was also stupid enough to venture into the attic at night all alone, when Dave and Jennifer suddenly got a hankering for popcorn.
So Jennifer got up to make some. On her way to the kitchen, she passed by the large bay window facing Gloomland Street and Twilight Gardens beyond. The curtains were not drawn and so Jennifer just happened to glance out, only to promptly freeze in horror.
For out there, among the fog-shrouded trees of Twilight Gardens, stood someone, several someones in fact. Jennifer couldn’t make out any faces, all she saw were silhouettes, outlined in stark black against the fog drifting around the streetlights in the park. But though she couldn’t see their faces, when Jennifer looked out at the silhouettes, she nonetheless knew at once that they were staring back at her.
Jennifer screamed. She screamed shriller than the bitchy cheerleader who had just gotten her throat slashed in the movie (and how could anybody scream with a slashed throat anyway?). She screamed so shrill that Dave fell from the sofa, Emma woke up in her cot upstairs, Hugo the raven fluttered from his sleeping spot atop the fountain in Twilight Gardens, old Mrs. Grimm in the house next door was torn from her nightly slumber in her favourite armchair and Paul MacQuarie in the other house next door got up from his desk and looked out of the window to see what weirdness Hallowind Cove had dished up this time around.
Once Dave had picked himself up from the hardwood floor, where he’d landed with a thud when he fell from the sofa, he came running at once.
“Jen, what’s the matter?”
“There,” Jennifer cried, pointing out of the bay windows at Gloomland Street and the park beyond, “Out there. They’re watching us.”
So Dave took a look out of the big bay window and saw the silhouettes in the park, all staring at the big old house. A shudder ran down his spine, but he suppressed it ruthlessly.
All right, so there were some extremely sinister looking people standing out there in the park, watching the house, his house. Still, maybe they were just some teenagers hanging out in Twilight Gardens to get drunk. Or maybe this was some kind of performance art?
Determinedly, Dave closed the curtains and made sure that the front door was locked and barred.
Once the curtains were closed, Jennifer and Dave settled down on the sofa again with a big bowl of popcorn and continued to watch the movie.
On the screen, the killer had just claimed his second victim, the burly jock who’d been sleeping with both the blonde bitchy cheerleader who’d been the first victim and her equally bitchy brunette best friend who was probably the next to die. But Dave and Jennifer found that they just couldn’t concentrate on the film. Not when there were shadowy silhouettes with unknown, but undoubtedly nefarious intentions outside, watching the house.
So Dave got up and went over to the big bay window. He pushed the curtains aside only a little bit and looked out. And indeed, there they were, still and silent and black, watching and waiting.
“Are… are they still out there?” Jennifer called from the living room.
“Yes, they are.” Dave peered out of the window again, where the silhouettes were still standing, unmoving. “That’s it,” he said, “I’m calling the cops.”
So Dave did just that. He called the police.
“Hallowind Cave police department,” a bored voice said on the other end of the line, “Sheriff Alastair Angus Aberdeen speaking. How can I help you?”
“There’s someone outside my house.”
“Outside your house, huh? And where would that be?”
“Gloomland Street 76.”
“The old Beauregard place, right?” the sheriff said, “So you’re the new folks then. Well, welcome to Hallowind Cove.”
“Thank you. But about those people…”
“The people who are outside your house on Gloomland Street, right?”
“Exactly. Those people, they…”
On the other end of the line, Sheriff Aberdeen sighed. “So what are they doing?”
“Who?”
“The people outside your house. What are they doing?”
“Wait a minute…”
Dave opened the curtains a crack again to look outside. Once again, the sinister shadows stared back at him from across the road.
“They’re… well, they’re just standing there.”
“So the people outside your house are just standing there, right?”
“Yes.”
“You do realise that standing around on the street is not actually illegal,” the sheriff said.
“Well, they’re standing around in a very sinister way,” Dave said, privately deciding that whoever had said that small towns were safer and the police more responsive to the citizens’ concerns than in the big city had obviously never been to Hallowind Cove.
“Standing around in a sinister way on a public street is not actually illegal either,” Sheriff Aberdeen pointed out.

 

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About the Hallowind Cove series:

 

Welcome to Hallowind Cove, the quirky little seaside town which is shrouded in fog for three hundred and forty days a year. Strange things keep happening here, which is why the town is also known as the “Harbour of the Weird”.

• Book 1: The Revenant of Wrecker's Dock
• Book 2: The Cursed Arm of Driftwood Beach
• Book 3: The Bakery on Gloomland Street
• Book 4: The Mermaid of Foghorn Point
• Book 5: The Standarounds of Twilight Gardens

 

About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. 

Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. She is the author of the Silencer series of pulp style thrillers, the Shattered Empire space opera series, the In Love and War science fiction romance series, the Helen Shepherd Mysteries and plenty of standalone stories in multiple genres.

When Cora is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher. She also runs the Speculative Fiction Showcase and the Indie Crime Scene and contributes to the Hugo-nominated fanzine Galactic Journey.

 

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The Mermaid of Foghorn Point (Hallowind Cove, Book 4) by Cora Buhlert

Release date: December 16, 2018

Subgenre: Cozy Fantasy

About The Mermaid of Foghorn Point:

 

The catch of the day at the Croaking Foghorn is not at all as expected…

Strange things keep happening in the permanently fog-shrouded seaside town of Hallowind Cove, earning it the nickname "Harbour of the Weird".

Paul and Rachel's date at The Croaking Foghorn pub is derailed, when it turns out that local fisherman Eddie Bramwell brought home no fish, but one hell of a story.

But Paul has one hell of a story of his own to tell and he's not at all sure how Rachel will react.

This is a short story of 3400 words or approximately 15 pages in the Hallowind Cove series, but may be read as a standalone.

 

Excerpt:

 

It was what passed for a pleasant winter evening in the little seaside town of Hallowind Cove, known far and wide as the Harbour of the Weird. The fog that enveloped the town eleven months a year was light tonight, the banks looking more like a bridal veil than a thick woollen blanket.
Paul MacQuarie and Rachel Hammersmith, both relative newcomers to the town, strolled along the little harbour hand in hand. Last year, Paul had inherited a house he didn’t particularly want from a deceased uncle he’d barely known. As for Rachel, she’d first visited Hallowind Cove on one of the rare clear and sunny days and promptly fell in love with a little bakery on Gloomland Street. So she’d bought the bakery, only to find out what the other eleven months in Hallowind Cove were like. In spite of the fog and the general weirdness, both Rachel and Paul had stayed and even bonded over their shared experiences.
Tonight, they were headed for The Croaking Foghorn, a harbourside pub that always offered fresh seafood and good conversation. Okay, so the conversation at The Croaking Foghorn was mostly limited to Ian Rayburn, the talkative barkeeper, and Old Hank, a drunkard who had permanently installed himself on the second barstool from the left. But the seafood — well, that truly was exceptional.
A flicker of movement on the otherwise deserted street attracted Paul’s attention. A shiver ran down his spine, for on particularly foggy nights, a vengeful zombie — pardon, revenant — who wanted Paul dead for a crime committed by one of his ancestors, prowled the docks. Paul’s first encounter with the revenant had been a close shave and the last thing he needed was a repeat of that particular incident.
About the second last thing Paul needed was for Rachel to find out that one of his ancestors had been a ruthless killer and that his name was at the top of the most wanted list of a vengeful zombie as a result. Cause there were some things you really didn’t want to reveal on the first date.
The flicker of movement turned into a flutter of wings. A second later, a raven settled down on one of the bollards that lined the harbour.
Paul relaxed. “Oh, it’s you, Hugo. You just about scared me to death.”
Rachel turned to the raven and smiled. “How is it going, Hugo?”
Although he was a bird, Hugo was one of Hallowind Cove’s most famous or rather infamous residents. For unlike other ravens, Hugo could talk — well, sort of. At any rate, his croaking sounded very much like talking. He was also a veritable Cassandra and inevitably uttered dark warnings. Much of the time, they were even true.
“Tu-urn a-round,” Hugo croaked, “Go home.”
“Oh please, Hugo,” Paul said, “We’re just having dinner at The Croaking Foghorn. And besides, the fog isn’t very thick tonight. No danger that he’ll be there.”
“No danger that who’ll be there?” Rachel wanted to know.
Paul felt the blood rush to his cheeks and wondered if he could blame it on the cold wind that blew along the quay. “Just a re… resident of sorts who doesn’t like me. He’s sometimes on the docks, when the fog is particularly thick. But tonight he is at home or should be.”
If vengeful zombies actually had a home, that was.
“Tu-urn a-round,” Hugo repeated, “Go home.”
He fixed Paul and Rachel with eerily glittering eyes.
“No fish to-day,” he croaked.
Rachel shook her head. “Now that makes hardly any sense at all. As usual.”
“Wa-arned you,” Hugo croaked. He took off and fluttered ahead, only to settle on another bollard further down the street.
“Te-ell her,” he croaked and nodded at Paul.
Paul sighed. “Just shut up, Hugo,” he said good-naturedly.
After all, he had a date tonight, the first since coming to Hallowind Cove, and he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin it, least of all a raven with delusions of clairvoyance.
Hugo did indeed shut up. And up ahead, the lights of The Croaking Foghorn were coalescing from the mist, a beacon in the gloomy night.

 

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Apple iTunes | Google Play | Smashwords | Scribd | Playster | DriveThru

 

About the Hallowind Cove series:

 

Welcome to Hallowind Cove, the quirky little seaside town which is shrouded in fog for three hundred and forty days a year. Strange things keep happening here, which is why the town is also known as the “Harbour of the Weird”.

• Book 1: The Revenant of Wrecker's Dock
• Book 2: The Cursed Arm of Driftwood Beach
• Book 3: The Bakery on Gloomland Street
• Book 4: The Mermaid of Foghorn Point
• Book 5: The Standarounds of Twilight Gardens

 

About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. 

Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. She is the author of the Silencer series of pulp style thrillers, the Shattered Empire space opera series, the In Love and War science fiction romance series, the Helen Shepherd Mysteries and plenty of standalone stories in multiple genres.

When Cora is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher. She also runs the Speculative Fiction Showcase and the Indie Crime Scene and contributes to the Hugo-nominated fanzine Galactic Journey.

 

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Google+ | Instagram | Pinterest | YouTube | Mastodon

 

 

The Bakery on Gloomland Street: A Hallowind Cove Christmas Story (Hallowind Cove, Book 3) by Cora Buhlert

Release date: December 10, 2018

Subgenre: Cozy Fantasy, Holidays

About The Bakery on Gloomland Street:

 

A legendary monster threatens Christmas… 

It's Christmas time in the permanently fog-shrouded seaside town of Hallowind Cove, which is also known as the "Harbour of the Weird".

Rachel Hammersmith is new to Hallowind Cove and has recently taken over the bakery on Gloomland Street, after Marie Percht, the previous owner, retired.

However, Marie Percht didn't tell Rachel everything, when she retired. She didn't mention the fog, for starters, and she also didn't mention that her bakery plays a vital role during the Christmas season and not just as a provider of holiday cookies either.

For the Krampus, a yuletide monster from alpine folklore, is coming to Hallowind Cove. And the only thing that can keep him from wrecking the town and ruining Christmas are pastries baked according to a secret recipe. Unfortunately, Rachel has no idea what the recipe is.

However, with the help of fellow newcomer Paul MacQuarie, Rachel will bake up a storm to pacify Krampus and save Christmas.

This is a novelette of 9300 words or approximately 32 pages in the Hallowind Cove series, but may be read as a standalone.

 

 Excerpt:

 

One day, when Rachel was returning from her morning run in Twilight Gardens, the snow seeping through her sneakers, she spotted something big and dark fluttering through the fog. Startled, she came to a halt, turned around and found herself face to face with a raven who was sitting on the wrought iron fence that separated Twilight Gardens from Gloomland Street.
Rachel let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.
“Oh, it’s you. You scared me half to death, you know?”
“Sor-ry,” the raven croaked.
“Oh my goodness, I’m cracking up,” Rachel said, “I’m not just talking to a bird, I’m also convinced he’s answering me.”
The raven’s name was Hugo and the locals seemed to believe that he could talk. But though the raven certainly had an impressive repertory of croaks and squeaks that could sound like speech at times, very little of what he said ever made any sense.
Case in point: “Kram-pus,” the raven croaked.
“That’s nice, Hugo,” Rachel said, “And I’m sure it’s very important, at least to you. But why don’t you bother someone else, cause I have to fire up the oven and open the bakery.”
“Kram-pus is co-ming,” Hugo croaked.
“See, Hugo. Now that was really good. That was not just an almost complete sentence, but a pop culture reference, too. Now if you’d only said, ‘Winter is coming’, you’d have been golden. Or maybe not, cause winter is already here.”
“Wa-arned you,” Hugo croaked and fluttered away.
Rachel looked after him and shook her head. Sometimes, it seemed to her as if he really could talk. Then she continued her jog, doing her best to ignore the cold.

***

Later that morning, Rachel put a tray of fragrant vanilla crescents, still hot from the oven, into the bakery display. She was about to return to the bakery proper behind the shop, when the doorbell chimed, its sound like the silver bell laughter of fairies and angels getting their wings.
Rachel looked up and saw Sheriff Alastair Angus Aberdeen entering her shop, hat in hand and tan uniform stretched tight across his pot-belly.
“Hello, Sheriff,” Rachel said, “The usual?”
She took a box and was about to fill it up with lemon sprinkle doughnuts and chocolate vanilla eclairs, when she noticed that the sheriff wasn’t alone. For filing into the bakery behind him were Wilbur W. Orville, the mayor of Hallowind Cove, Father Benedict MacGillicuddy, the local priest, Dr. Marvin Cuttlefish, curator of the town museum, Ian Rayburn, landlord of The Croaking Foghorn down by the docks and Paul MacQuarie, who’d moved to Hallowind Cove shortly before Rachel and now lived in a shambling old house a bit down the street.
With the six men, five of them important pillars of the community, lined up inside the shop, Rachel’s little bakery suddenly seemed very small indeed. What was more, Rachel had the sneaking suspicion that they didn’t all just happen to get a hankering for pastries at exactly the same time.
“So, gentlemen…” Rachel said, facing the delegation, “…what can I do for you?”
“Miss Hammersmith, we need your help,” Mayor Orville began.
“It is of utmost importance that you listen to us,” Sheriff Aberdeen added.
“Local lore and tradition require your assistance,” Dr. Cuttlefish declared.
“Only you can save Christmas for all the good people of Hallowind Cove,” Father MacGillicuddy implored.
“And besides, you really wouldn’t want to piss off Krampus,” Ian Rayburn added darkly, while Father MacGillicuddy looked scandalised at his choice of words.
Only you can save Christmas? Honestly? Who did they think she was, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?
“I’m sorry, but none of this makes any sense at all,” Rachel replied.
“Don’t look at me,” Paul MacQuarie said with a shrug, “I only came here for a blueberry muffin.”

 

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Apple iTunes | Google Play | Smashwords | Scribd | Playster | DriveThru

 

About the Hallowind Cove series:

 

Welcome to Hallowind Cove, the quirky little seaside town which is shrouded in fog for three hundred and forty days a year. Strange things keep happening here, which is why the town is also known as the “Harbour of the Weird”.

• Book 1: The Revenant of Wrecker's Dock
• Book 2: The Cursed Arm of Driftwood Beach
• Book 3: The Bakery on Gloomland Street
• Book 4: The Mermaid of Foghorn Point
• Book 5: The Standarounds of Twilight Gardens

 

About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. 

Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. She is the author of the Silencer series of pulp style thrillers, the Shattered Empire space opera series, the In Love and War science fiction romance series, the Helen Shepherd Mysteries and plenty of standalone stories in multiple genres.

When Cora is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher. She also runs the Speculative Fiction Showcase and the Indie Crime Scene and contributes to the Hugo-nominated fanzine Galactic Journey.

 

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Google+ | Instagram | Pinterest | YouTube | Mastodon

 

The Cursed Arm of Driftwood Beach (Hallowind Cove, Book 2) by Cora Buhlert

 

Release date: November 16, 2016

Subgenre: Cozy fantasy, Ghost stories

About The Cursed Arm of Driftwood Beach:

 

A disembodied arm terrifies a seaside town…

Strange things keep happening in the permanently fog-shrouded seaside town of Hallowind Cove, earning it the nickname "Harbour of the Weird".

When a beachcomber finds a giant wooden arm on the beach, the people of Hallowind Cove are excited about a new addition to the town museum’s collection.

But the wooden arm has a mind of its own – and the tendency to go walkabout by night…

This is a short story of 2400 words or approximately 10 pages in the Hallowind Cove series, but may be read as a standalone.

Excerpt:

 

Near the fog shrouded seaside town of Hallowind Cove, commonly known as the harbour of the weird, lay a stretch of shore named Driftwood Beach. It was called that because due to a quirk of the currents, half the flotsam and jetsam in the ocean tended to wash ashore at Driftwood Beach.
The people of Hallowind Cove had been taking advantage of the curious properties of Driftwood Beach for centuries, collecting the flotsam and jetsam that washed onto their shores. Of course, most of it was junk — driftwood, kelp, sea beans and drift seeds, fishing nets and bits of rope, torn sails and broken bottles, seashells and sea glass polished by the waves and the sand and — in modern times — a lot of plastic junk. But occasionally, something useful would wash onto the Driftwood Beach, such as the cargo of a ship lost at sea or even a whole wreck, only to be promptly salvaged by the good people of Hallowind Cove.
In day of old, a few of the not so good people of Hallowind Cove decided to increase the supply of useful flotsam and jetsam washing ashore and created some wrecks of their own via false lights on the cliff tops. In time, the people of Hallowind Cove stopped engaging in wrecking, since the practice gave the town a bad name. And should they ever be tempted to start again, there was a vengeful and undead sea captain prowling the docks by night to discourage anyone who might try.
But even if the people of Hallowind Cove had given up wrecking, they never gave up combing Driftwood Beach for anything useful to salvage. And so you could spot beachcombers at Driftwood Beach almost every morning, as soon as the sun had pierced the blanket of fog that enveloped the town and its surroundings far enough that you could actually make out the treasures the waves had deposited ashore overnight.
The most successful beachcomber by far in Hallowind Cove was Don Holbrook. Every morning, steady as clockwork, Don was out at Driftwood Beach, hoping to find a treasure among the trash that had piled during the night.
Over the years, Don had found many a treasure. He’d found dozens of lifesavers and life vests, wine crates — both empty and full, chocolate cookies — sadly stale, cracked china plates, a flock of plastic rubber duckies — remnants of the great rubber ducky spill of ‘92 — dozens of sneakers, only the left ones unfortunately, hockey gloves and basketballs, car parts and diapers, cigarettes and packages of cocaine — dutifully turned over to the local police, of course — an airplane propeller, gutta-percha plates from Indonesia, the Meerschaum pipes of Dutch sailors and Spanish gold doubloons, both now on display at the Hallowind Cove Museum, and a birdcage with a dead parrot still inside. Once, Don had even found a cracked container that contained three brand new, chromium-gleaming motorcycles. Now that had been a really good day.
But of all the things Don had found in his many years of beachcombing, none was stranger than the giant wooden arm.

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Apple | Smashwords | Scribd | DriveThru | OmniLit | 24symbols 

 

About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. 

Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. She is the author of the Silencer series of pulp style thrillers, the Shattered Empire space opera series, the In Love and War science fiction romance series, the Helen Shepherd Mysteries and plenty of standalone stories in multiple genres. When Cora is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher.

 

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Google+ | Instagram | Pinterest | YouTube

 

 

The Revenant of Wrecker's Dock (Hallowind Cove, Book 1) by Cora Buhlert

Release date: May 26, 2015

Subgenre: Cozy Fantasy, Ghost Stories

About The Revenant of Wrecker's Dock:

Strange things keep happening in the permanently fog-shrouded seaside town of Hallowind Cove, earning it the nickname "Harbour of the Weird".

When Paul comes Hallowind Cove, after inheriting an old house from an uncle he barely knew, he doesn't put much stock in those stories. But then he finds himself hunted by an angry zombie, who is looking to avenge a century-old crime…

Excerpt:

 

Paul pulled up the collar of his coat against the ever-present fog that enveloped the town of Hallowind Cove. His hair was damp, his skin clammy, every bone in his body ached and the cough he’d developed shortly after coming to Hallowind Cove was back, worse than ever.
One day, this town was gonna be the death of him.
He turned onto Wrecker’s Dock in Hallowind Cove harbour or what passed for it, cause these days, the docks were mostly deserted with only the occasional fishing boat moored at the quay.
The fog was even thicker here, rolling in from the sea in waves of white. Walking along the seafront probably wasn’t the best of ideas, considering that the fog was making him sick. But Paul did not care. He was headed for The Croaking Foghorn, a harbourside pub that offered beer and stronger drinks as well as some of the best and freshest seafood dishes Paul had ever seen.
A raven set perched on one of the tar-covered bollards along the quay, fixing Paul with unnerving eyes.
“Wa-atch out,” the raven croaked, “Wa-atch out!”
Or at least that’s what it sounded like. For of course birds couldn’t talk, even though this one gave a pretty good impression of it. Paul had seen the raven before, hanging around town and emitting croaks that sounded uncannily like words.
He’d once asked Ian, landlord of the Croaking Foghorn and the closest thing Paul had to a friend here in Hallowind Cove, about the raven.
“Oh, that’s just Hugo,” Ian had said, “Never mind him. He likes to pretend he’s a harbinger of doom, but he’s really quite harmless.”
“Wa-atch out,” Hugo croaked again, “Wa-atch out.”
“Shut up, Hugo,” Paul said good-naturedly, “I’m no longer a newbie. I won’t fall into the harbour basin.”
“Wa-arned you,” the raven croaked.
Paul shook his head. “I’m really going crazy,” he thought, “Hell, I’m talking to a bird.”
He held on steady towards the lights of the Croaking Foghorn, blurred by the dense fog. A dark figure stumbled towards him, emerging from the mist and gradually coalescing into a solid form. The figure was clad in a seaman’s oilskin jacket and sou’wester.
Probably a fisherman headed out to sea, Paul thought. He shouted a friendly greeting as he passed the stranger, but then his words caught in his throat, as he got a closer look at the dark figure.
For the dark figure’s oilskin jacket and sou’wester were encrusted with molluscs and draped with seaweed. Its skin had a pallid and faintly greenish cast, the sort of look that only the long dead should have. And where its eyes should be, there were only two black holes.
“Murrrderrr,” the figure moaned, its voice sounding as if it came straight from the bottom of the sea, “Deathhh. Deceit.”
The creature reached out for Paul and where its hand should be, there was only a hook, a rusty iron hook.
“The Mary Durban, lost with all hands on board,” the creature said and lurched towards Paul, hook raised. “Vengeance,” it moaned.
Paul screamed and ran along the dock, towards the lights of the Croaking Foghorn and the salvation they promised, the shambling, lurching figure hot in pursuit.
Panicked and panting, he reached the pub and crashed through the door, startling both Ian, the landlord, and Old Hank, a drunk who seemed to be a permanent fixture on the second barstool from the left.
“I… I…” Paul bent over, gasping for air. “I think I just saw a zombie.”
He turned the key in the lock and looked for something, anything, to bar the front door. Finally, he grabbed an old oar from the wall and placed it across the door. Only that it wouldn’t hold the door, not for long and certainly not without some nails for reinforcement.
Already, he could hear the zombie scratching on the door, looking for a way in.
“A hammer,” Paul blurted out, “I need a hammer. And nails.”
“Sit down and relax,” Ian said, entirely unperturbed. He drew a beer from the tap and put it down on the counter. “And would you kindly refrain from blocking the door. There’s few enough punters about in this weather as it is, so I really don’t need you locking out the few that might stumble in.”

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Apple | Smashwords | Scribd | DriveThru | OmniLit

 

About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. Cora has been writing since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. When she is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher.

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Google+ | tsu