Alexander Glass. The Pit.

Glass had a number of good stories in Interzone, and appeared to have moved his career up a step on the ladder with a story in Asimovs in 2003, but there's been a hiatus as far as any of his stories crossing my path is concerned. Here he provides a dark, psychological tale of the horrors, both real and internal, as we follow a young man's battle with a nightmarish threat to his sanity. Is the dark, seemingly bottomless pit which appears and threatens to suck him in real, or is it part of his own disturbed imagination. As he battles with hiw own internal demons, the fact that one if his friends is also threatened by the same dark, desperate plunge gives credence to it being of this world, and yet not.

Seth Skorkowsky. The Mist of Lichthafen.

A first accepted story, and one which is missing that certain, often indefinable, something which would prevent it being identified as such. The port of Lichthafen is threatened at times by a mist which rolls in off the sea, and consumes everything that does not hide for it. When the bell tolls to warn of its approach, the townsfolk quickly head inside, bolt the doors, and jam the gaps in the doors to prevent the mist getting in. Those unfortunate enough to be caught abroad are left to the slobbering, unseen horrors that lurk in the mist.

Two local men brave the mists on its next visit, carrying out a job for a local merchant, and they leap across rooftops, and the tops of walls. the dank mist forever willing to embrace them should they fall. Kellek and his colleague manage to make it to their destination, and steal the object to order, but on their way back Hasteng loses his balance and falls to the ground, clutching their booty. Kellek has a choice - return home without the stolen goods, or risk the mist to retrieve them. You can of course guess which choice he makes, and you just know it's the wrong choice...

Tony Richards. The Sentinels.

The desert outside of Phoenix isn't a hospitable place at the best of times, but when you roll your car down an incline, overturn it, and fuck up the engine big-time, and realise you haven't got your mobile phone, you are in a whole world of trouble. As night falls, Rich braces himself to face the myriad nasties that will appear, with only the cactus trees to keep him company. Except that those cactii, who have lasted many many years, might be able to offer some assistance. Should he accept their spiny embrace?

Ian R. Faulkner. The Difference Between.

The trenches of the Great War are pretty much as horrific a setting from the 'real world' that you can get, and Faulkner makes it crystal clear just how hellish going over the top could be. Arthur Watts manages to survive the slaught of the Bosche guns, but as night falls he finds himself in No Man's Land, with a wounded colleague, and with the ghostly Ker rising to claim the dead and wounded....

Carole Johnstone. The Morning After.

..the night before, and rushing to make the morning train to Glasgow. It's a pell-mell race down the steep steps of the housing estate, feeling like shit, and remembering more and more about the night before, and rushing to make the morning train...

Will McIntosh. The Fantasy Jumper.

A shorter piece for IZ regular. At the fairground a few credits will have substantiated a living breathing person of your specification whose sole purpose it to attempt the death-defying leap into the fountain below. Except that it is simply too far to make without plunging to certain death. Various people with various motivations pay the small fee and enjoy the hopeless attempt and the plummeting fall and sickening landing, with the jumper quickly integrated into the concrete below.

One visitor the fair, spurned in love, substantiates a replica of herself to make the jump, witnessed by her now ex-lover. And another. And another.

Matthew Holness. The Toad and I.

Holness has hero status in this household, having recently come to the attention of Son #2, booting The Mighty Boosh off that pedestal.

It's a bit tricky, having created cod-horror writer Garth Margenhi, for Holness to produce a horror story that steers cleark of the kind of Marenghi-schlock ("Crimson, copper smelling blood. His blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. And bits of sick").

An ex-employee returns to his workplace to confront the unpleasant executive who recently dispensed with his services. Kenyon sees the exec as he truly is, and in a very Garenghi finale, Kenyon slices and dices the bubbling, icky thing that he turns into.

Conclusion.

Balanced more on the horror end of the spectrum than previous issues, with only Skorkowsky and McIntosh providing a non-contemporary setting. But it's a page-turner of an issue, even in horror isn't really your bag, with plenty of reviews as ever, and the usual striking cover.