Böcker utgivna av Raw Dog Screaming Press

Doomsday is here and the earth is suffering with each breath she takes. Whether it's from the nuclear meltdown, the wrath of the Four Horsemen, a war with technology, or a consequence of our relationship with the planet, humanity is left buried and hiding, our bones exposed, our hearts beating somewhere in our freshly slit throats.The Apocalyptic Mannequin by Stephanie M. Wytovich is a collection that strips away civilization and throws readers into the lives of its survivors. The poems inside are undelivered letters, tear-soaked whispers, and unanswered prayers. They are every worry you've had when your electricity went out, and every pit that grew in your stomach watching the news at night. They are tragedy and trauma, but they are also grief and fear, fear of who-or what-lives inside us once everything is taken away.These pages hold the teeth of monsters against the faded photographs of family and friends, and here, Wytovich is both plague doctor and midwife, both judge and jury, forever searching through severed limbs and exposed wires as she straddles the line evaluating what's moral versus what's necessary to survive.What's clear though, is that the world is burning and we don't remember who we are.So tell me: who will you become when it's over?

West, Book three of the Go Love Quartet, closes the circle initiated when Josephine Stepwell made the star-crossed decision to head West with the outlaw husband who'd lied up one side of her heart and down the other. Now, her granddaughter, who grew up sneaking peeks at a dwarf uncle's photo and all the other Washers hidden in her father's black Bible, runs away from her Utah home to Arizona, where she meets Davey the Dwarf in a south side Tucson bar catering to washed up professional wrestlers. There, with fellow dropout non-Mormon Jack, she is reunited with her long lost kith and kin, standing in for her father who'd long ago promised the blood father he'd never met that he'd return. Only he never did. In the mean time, grandfather Buddy'd died, was buried in a cemetery with all the rest of the Washers, and it's there the circle finally closes, with champagne and hard words at the grave side. Steeped in the Stepwell catastrophes of love, West interweaves the strands left hanging in the Quartet's first two novels. It offers healing and, finally, peace to those who have departed in a world of hurt.

Choking Back the Devil by Donna Lynch is an invocation, an ancient invitation that summons the darkness within and channels those lonely spirits looking for a host. It's a collection that lives in the realm of ghosts and family curses, witchcraft and urban legends, and if you're brave enough to peek behind the veil, the hauntings that permeate these pages will break seals and open doorways, cut throats and shatter mirrors.You see, these poems are small drownings, all those subtle suffocations that live in that place between our ribs that swells with panic, incubates fear. Lynch shows her readers that sometimes our shadow selves-our secrets-are our sharpest weapons, the knives that rip through flesh, suture pacts with demons, cut deals with entities looking for more than a homecoming, something better, more intimate than family.It's about the masks we wear and the reflections we choose not to look at, and what's most terrifying about the spells is these incantations show that we are the possessed, that we are our greatest monster, and if we look out of the corner of our eyes, sometimes-if we've damned ourselves enough-we can catch a glimpse of our own burnings, what monstrosities and mockeries we're to become. So cross yourselves and say your prayers. Because in this world, you are the witch and the hunter, the girl and the wolf.

Master short story author Lucy A. Snyder is back with a dozen chilling, thought-provoking tales of Lovecraftian horror, dark science fiction, and weird fantasy. Her previous two collections received Bram Stoker Awards and this one offers the same high-caliber, trope-twisting prose. Snyder effortlessly creates memorable monsters, richly imagined worlds and diverse, unforgettable characters.Open this book and you'll find a garden of stories as dark and heady as black roses that will delight fans of complex, intelligent speculative fiction."Garden of Eldritch Delights, a horror story collection by a modern master of the form, Lucy A. Snyder, offers explosive tales of trauma and survival."-Library Journal

Since the rise of The Council, an oligarchy of despots and deviants, the legendary Capesman undertakes daily soul collections from Cartesia's wasteland cities and battlefields. He also frequents Malay Prison, where a vigilante named Shal plots her escape. Armed with a thirst for vengeance and a sharp Shakespearean tongue, Shal must navigate a maze of trauma to save Cartesia and protect her sister from the brutal machinations of Chancellor Doa. It will require all of Shal's strength and cunning to resurrect her former army, battle the betrayals of the past, and avenge her father's death. Will she survive long enough to see the Council fall, or is the Capesman coming for her next?

Trisha will admit she's made a few mistakes in her life but that checkered past is behind her. She loves her kids, even if it's tough being a single mom. But her loyalties are put to the test when her infant son disappears in the middle of the night, and his big sister says a monster took him. Now Trisha has to face the full truth behind the one-night-stand that produced Brayden in all its scaly torridness-Brayden's father wasn't human and isn't interested in sharing custody. However, even though DEMON has pulled this stunt many times before, he made a mistake when he chose Trisha. The one thing she won't do is give up her son without a fight. Along with her ex-boyfriend, Joel, Trisha is dragged back into the seedy underworld in a desperate fight to reclaim her son, only this time she's got a lot more to lose.

Recipient of the Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a Poetry CollectionWytovich plays madam in a collection of erotic horror that challenges the philosophical connection between death and orgasm. There's a striptease that happens in Brothel that is neither fact nor fiction, fantasy nor memory. It is a dance of eroticism, of death and decay. The human body becomes a service station for pain, for pleasure, for the lonely, the confused. Sexuality is hung on the door, and the act of love is far from anything that's decent. Her women spread their legs to violence then smoke a cigarettes and get on all fours. They use their bodies as weapons and learn to find themselves in the climax of the boundaries they cross in order to define their humanity...or lack thereof.Wytovich shows us that the definition of the feminine is not associated with the word victim. Her characters resurrect themselves over and over again, fighting stereotypes, killing expectations. She shows us that sex isn't about love; it's about control. And when the control is disproportionate to the fantasy, she shows us the true meaning of femme fatale.

Poet. Pirate. It's all the same really. They both pillage, plunder, drink rum, look for treasure, and sometimes, after too many drinks, they're known to throw a right hook or two. But that's the beauty of poetry and piracy-it's unhinged, a stream of emotions that make you laugh, cry, bleed, bruise, and eat oranges to prevent scurvy. It's an adventure. It's feeling the wind on your face from the sea or the page. It's tasting the salt in the ocean or in your tears. But most importantly, it's the experience of getting from one port to another, one page to the next, killing one more siren and murdering just one more darling. You see, piracy is about rules, and the number one rule is that there are no rules. Pirate-poets live for the journey, they do what has to be done to survive, and hope that karma, or a Kraken, doesn't come around and bite them in the arse. Poetry is like that, too. It's a fleeting moment, an image, that the writer is hoping will leave you breathless, bruised, and stranded on an island. Underwater Fistfight does just that, because Matt Betts is a pirate-poet who takes science fiction and throws it in the brig with horror while he sits outside the cell, laughing as they duke it out. He's a regular Davy Jones, a sailor's devil, claiming the lives of these poems and dragging them down to the locker to dissect, inspect, and sift through their stories and characters like plunder.