Author: Nathan Shumate

During second watch of the night, we saw the first other scavengers we’d run across in probably a month. I didn’t know if that meant survivors were getting really thin on the ground (although it’s not like they were going to increase) or if we’d wandered into a burnt-over area. To look at, this town…
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As Tim had expected, the farmhouse seemed smaller to him now. It was more than the difference between child­hood and adult perspective; he had noticed other times that abandoned houses looked hollow and shrunken from the outside. The yellowed grass was tall enough that the house looked like it was slowly dissolving into the earth,…
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Jeffrey was hit full in the face by the chill wind swooping down off the mountains as he exited the DC-3, almost flip­ping his hat from his head. The air was soggy with the smell of pine, and earth, and various livestock, and something un­familiar like sour ginger. The sun hid behind thick clouds and…
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Henson’s corpse already stank. Kettrick had the pack mule with the blanket-wrapped body trailing behind his horse on twenty feet of rope, but every time the wind shifted he caught a whiff of the dead man. Henson hadn’t smelled great when alive, and two days of traveling in the sun hadn’t been kind to him.…
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Now available in both ebook and print: The Shadow Over Vinland: and Other Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos. Ten new tales of cosmic horror! Grab yours now!

At the start, he could only say that he and Kevin had gone to the clearing to camp. That was all that would come out, and then his shoulders would start shaking and his sight would jitter, and the doctor would sigh and the milk muscles would come in and give him shots and load…
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The common room at the Boar’s Tusk was full of thick smoke and shadow and the smell of rain and traveling men. The Tusk was not a public house for local men; it hunched along the edge of the newer Regent’s Road, cut off by hills from the village to the east, and served for…
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The agent stationed outside the lobby doors knew how to wear his sunglasses; he had mastered that head position that said “I’m watching you” while also saying “I’m not ac­knowledging your existence.” His suit was immaculately boring and his tie was muted, and his mirrorshades expertly reflected my face at myself as I announced myself:…
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It was Young Snorri who first sighted something on the shoreline. “A post!” he cried, pointing over the starboard gunwale. “I think I see a post at the tideline! And above, on the cliffs—a longhouse!” Gunnar’s eyes has once been as sharp as Young Snorri’s. Now, even though the day was overcast, it was too…
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How I heard the story was this: Some guy out on the long stretch of Route 57 hadn’t gassed up in town, and late at night he ran out of gas right where 57 makes a Y with 116 and Gussner Road, where there wasn’t nothing for miles. He slept in his truck and started…
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