The Dark Issue 42: The Dark, #42

By David Tallerman, Angela Slatter, H. Pueyo and Julie C. Day

Each month The Dark brings you the best in dark fantasy and horror! Selected by award-winning editors Silvia Moreno-Garcia and Sean Wallace and published by Prime Books, this issue includes two all-new stories and two reprints:

"The Only Way Out Lies Farther In" by David Tallerman
"Better Angels" by Angela Slatter (reprint)
"Sea-Crowned" by H. Pueyo
"A Pinhole of Light" by Julie C. Day (reprint)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prime Books
• Release date: Oct 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386149286

Book preview

THE DARK

Issue 42 • November 2018

The Only Way Out Lies Farther In by David Tallerman

Better Angels by Angela Slatter

Sea-Crowned by H. Pueyo

A Pinhole of Light by Julie C. Day

Cover Art: Raven by Laura Sava

ISSN 2332-4392.

Edited by Silvia Moreno-Garcia and Sean Wallace.

Cover design by Garry Nurrish.

Copyright © 2018 by Prime Books.

www.thedarkmagazine.com

The Only Way Out Lies Farther In

by David Tallerman

She was seven years old, and if only she hadn’t seen the sign then none of it would ever have happened.

The grounds of the country house were vast, limitless-seeming. They had already been inside the house itself, had eaten lunch in the cafe, had explored both the lower and upper gardens, and had made the climb up to the lake. It was late afternoon, with a faint chill in the air, and Laurie was irritable and footsore. She’d lost her temper, for reasons she wouldn’t entirely remember later, and her father had decided that they were heading back to the car. The mood was tense. He wouldn’t look at her at all; he had a way of erasing her from existence when he was angry, an ability that alarmed her deeply. Laurie felt penitent, yet frustrated. Rain began to fall in fine streaks.

There were wooden signs everywhere, colour-coded, the directions marked in charred black characters; she’d quickly taken to disregarding them. There was no reason she shouldn’t have ignored this one too, but she didn’t. Her eyes snared on that one word: LABYRINTH. She knew that a labyrinth was a kind of maze. The possibility filled her with weird excitement, not quite pleasant.

Can we? she asked. She aimed the question at her mother, careful to let the threat of renewed tears into her voice.

We’re going to the car park, her father said.

Laurie snuffled. We never do what I want to do. She meant it earnestly; hadn’t she been dragged around all day, like a belonging?

It’s on the way, her mother pointed out. She was inspecting a map above the sign board. It’s been a long day for her.

Her father only scowled and began walking. Laurie measured the risks involved in further protest, decided they were too great. Her father’s temper, always unpredictable, had grown drastically worse of late.

At the next junction, her father ignored the sign marked CAR PARK for the one that read LABYRINTH. An unspoken decision had been made, and Laurie had got her way after all.

It didn’t take them long to reach the spot where the map claimed the labyrinth should be. However, what they came upon wasn’t remotely what she’d been expecting. She’d imagined high walls of stone, but there was merely a wattle arch in the hedgerow that ran beside the path. It looked to Laurie grown rather than made. There was nothing to mark the opening as an entrance, except that at the centre was a narrow plaque bearing carved markings. She barely glanced at them at the time—though often afterwards she would wrack her memory for some detail of what she’d seen there.

We’ll have to be quick, her father said. It’s going to be dark soon.

Laurie knew that wasn’t true. Evening was more than an hour off. Nevertheless, the sky was dusky, thick with grey cloud that continued to leak a constant drizzle. Disappointed by the labyrinth, she was almost ready to say that she’d rather return to the car.

Perhaps she would have, had her father given her the chance. Before she could put her doubts into words, he had walked beneath the arch. Laurie’s mother patted her shoulder, said, Come on then. Her tone was weary. She followed Laurie’s father, and Laurie’s sole choice was to hurry and catch up.

At first they walked between more hedgerows, but soon those petered away. The area they reached was large and open, slabs of white rock pushing through chalky soil. Its rough borders were defined by bushes and low trees that appeared to be growing wild. There were three—no, four—other paths heading from the edges in various directions.

They must have come to the wrong place, Laurie thought. Maybe this was another garden, a garden without flowers, or a part of the grounds that had fallen out of use. But she didn’t have time to wonder, for already her father had seized on one of the exits, her mother staying close beside him.

Again, Laurie hurried after. There was no sense of obstruction to either side; the wide path was bordered by knee-high foliage, patches of dogwood and willow, or by piled rocks or sometimes logs. There were occasional turns and junctions. Her father seemed to choose them at random. She realised that the rain had stopped. The sky was a strange colour, neither grey nor blue.

She felt her father’s anger, radiating. She couldn’t say if it was directed at her, at her mother, or at the labyrinth, but it frightened her. What if he lost his temper? What if he left her here? The prospect filled her with such raw terror that she wanted to cling to him, to be dragged along if need be. She didn’t dare—couldn’t find even the courage to clasp her mother’s hand.

The next area was surrounded by trees, taller than the ones they’d passed previously and bending inward. Upon the ground were wooden sculptures resembling totem poles, the tallest reaching to Laurie’s shoulder. Some of the designs were clearly identifiable as animals. Others were stranger.

The next contained a well that, when Laurie peered down into its depths, descended for a couple of feet, to end in a circle of sodden mud.

In the next there was a small fountain,