Showing results by author "Rosalie Parker" in All Categories

Joel had applied for the Rawthorpe Award with very low expectations and so he was extremely surprised to receive a letter from the Foundation telling him that he was the recipient of one of the ten writers' bursaries on offer that year.

"NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOURS": The house next door stood empty for nearly two years and the Carringtons soon grew accustomed to the extra psychic space. They took to holding séances in the back garden at odd times of the day and night and, more prosaically, were free to shout to each other from all parts of the house, slam doors whenever they felt like it, and come and go without their every movement being scrutinised.

Each of the stories that make up "Damage" represent a new take on the theme of difference and strangeness in human life. There are elements of traditional horror, fantasy and the supernatural, but also of beauty, humour, compassion and love. "Damage" explores the fragility of life and love and how they can sometimes survive against the odds, despite the damage that is done to them.

Rosalie Parker runs the independent UK publishing house Tartarus Press with R. B. Russell. Her previous collections include "The Old Knowledge" (Swan River Press 2010) and "Damage" (PS Publishing 2016). "In the Garden" was selected for Best New Horror 21 (2010), and "Random Flight" for Best British Horror 2015. Rosalie lives in Coverdale, North Yorkshire, the magnificent landscape of which inspires and sometimes provides the settings for her writing. "Homecraft": The cooker looked old, almost an antique.

Ghosts, shamans, aliens, angels and the weirdness of life all make their appearance in this new collection of Rosalie Parker's strange tales. Her stories depict subtly shifting realities, and celebrate the fluidity of the barrier between the uncanny and the everyday. These twenty-five stories vary from contes to longer pieces, and explore the traditions of the weird tale in fresh and original ways. Contents: "Challenging Behaviour" / "Change" / "Chimera" / "Cow City" / "Dead Letters" / "Dear John" / "Fever" / "Heavenly Love" / "Him We Adore" / "Holy Innocent" / "Joy Riding".

On a fine day, the dale could hold its own. White clouds scudded across a pale blue sky, casting shape-shifting shadows over the land, and just before dusk a translucent light bathed the fells in a fairy glow.

Clarinda stared open mouthed at the squat little creature, its amber eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun, its moist, warty skin taut over the rubbery flesh beneath.

We had no intention of going away that summer. Carrie had come to stay with me for a couple of weeks before we started at separate universities in the autumn.

All through August Abigail looked out for the ship, counting the masts on each vessel and reading their names before they reached the harbour.

The Robinsons arrived late in the evening; he in black tie and she in a long cocktail dress of sheer red silk. Neither Rachel nor Clive could remember inviting them, but they hoped the couple might enliven what was threatening to become a rather dull event.

The pub is empty except for a couple - man and wife, judging by her wedding ring - sitting in silence by the fire. Her back is to me; the corners of his mouth turn down. I'm pretty sure they're the ones I'm looking for.

The drop-in group met every Wednesday morning at the St Francis Centre. Sometimes there were activities painting a picture or learning something new on the computer but mostly it was a social event.

Old Father Thames so the song has it but she's more of a mother, that's what I've come to think. She started off young and beautiful, useful, the life-blood of the city.

It was nearly midday when, bleary-eyed, Paula struggled up the last few metres of the slope. Lawrence's leaving party had drifted into the early hours, even though it was the middle of the working week, and in the morning, when he kissed her goodbye and got into the taxi, she had felt the first surge of panic.

All through August Abigail looked out for the ship, counting the masts on each vessel and reading their names before they reached the harbour.

Lucy was an awkward child, unlike Oliver and Sam who, when it was dry, played outside most of the time. She spent a great deal of the summer holiday visiting the library, reading in her room and researching online.

Like most children I dreamed that I could fly and that I could take giant bounding leaps across the landscape. On summer mornings I would try this out on my way to school, hoping to find myself far above the tarmacked lane, looking down on the fields and my friends below.

It's unlikely you'll read this as it's hidden on my computer, saved under 'lists'. If it comes to light it will hurt you, Lars, and I'm sorry for that.

My friends raved about the view from my study. Tristram said, 'How lucky you are! I could look at it forever.' He often returned to the window to watch the changes that mark the progress of each day: the gradual greening of the grass, light moving over the fields, a larger flock of crows.

The Robinsons arrived late in the evening; he in black tie and she in a long cocktail dress of sheer red silk.