Thank you and goodbye from Lonesome October Lit

Happy New Year 2019, everyone.

I am writing this at the end of November, having just scheduled our last post for New Year’s Eve. It’s been common knowledge for some time that we would be closing, but I couldn’t just leave without saying something.

Thank you to those readers and writers who have shown Lonesome October (and those published here) so much love – through submissions, reading the stories and poems, sharing, commenting, tweeting. When I resolved to make changes to my editing workload, for my health and family’s benefit, I first took a look at where the most work was going in for the least amount of readers and writers. Unfortunately that was Lonesome October. But the beautiful thing around here is, even with a smaller following, the one we do have is full of devoted, darling people. So to you especially – thank you for the love, and I am sorry we have to go.

To new folks who stumble across this derelict mausoleum… there is a lot to discover and enjoy here. Look through our archives if you want to read something delightfully dark – you won’t be disappointed. It won’t be going anywhere, either; it’s our job to keep this corner of the internet nice and haunted for as long as we can.

With all the spooky love,

Kate

 

Widow’s Watch by James H Duncan

The walk through the coastal forest had taken longer than any of them expected, but there it was, just as Jason had said it would be. The ancient mansion stood in an overgrown clearing surrounded by the dense, dark woods.

The Children by Emily Harrison

I was damp and tired when he finally showed up – August rain in the Dales is anything but fresh.

Beth’s Christmas Wish by Kimberly Wolkens

Christmas used to be Annie’s favorite holiday. This year she dreaded it. She tried to muster up even a tiny bit of enthusiasm, but it just wasn’t the same. Nothing had been the same since her best friend died last spring in a car accident.

The House Opposite by Hilary Hares

The house opposite
is allowed to sleep
through winter,

its cupboards hollow,
its corners scoured
of their spiders.

Post Office Delivery by Jennifer Ruth Jackson

+++“Did you get me some of the new holiday stamps?” Rebecca asked Jim, eyeing the various packages he was toting into the house.

House of Chains by Kathy Gardiner

Lady Lassitude is listless;
sits like a thistle
in that same chair,
legs bare.

Two poems by Vanessa Maki

the autopsy

my cold body was in the morgue
under a blank white sheet
until the forensic pathologist took it off
the fatal wounds were obvious

Winter Forest by Sanda Moore Coleman

A walk in the woods is not the same
as a walk in the park, of this much I am certain.

Remote Control by Jennifer Ruth Jackson

+++Pete stood at the foot of his little brother’s bed, clenching and unclenching his fists. Bits of wrapping paper still clung to his pajamas and sweat rolled into his narrowed eyes.

Not your type of alone by Elisabeth Horan

The lonely girls eats a cookie alone. Crumbs matter not at all for no one shall punish her. There is no priest here and certainly no sanctuary for playing in. He left to be an engineer of hierarchies.

Visiting the Charnel House by Hilary Hares

Dark came to the Charnel House
by way of bats and roaches