Shallow Waters Vol.1: Shallow Waters, #1

By Joe Mynhardt

Shallow Waters—where nothing stays buried.

With twenty-two dark tales diving beneath the surface of loss, love, and life.

Shallow Waters is the official monthly flash fiction challenge hosted by the award-winning Crystal Lake Publishing. Every month a new challenge is posted online, with authors submitting via email. The best submissions are then posted on Crystal Lake's Patreon page, where patrons read daily entries and vote for the winner. What you'll find in these Shallow Waters anthologies include the most popular of our finalists.

Stay tuned for more volumes in this series, or find Crystal Lake Publishing on Patreon to enter or vote on future challenges.

Volume one includes horror, thrillers, suspense, and stories of love lost, death, 2nd chances, the monsters within, and the beauty beneath it all.

Introduction by Joe Mynhardt
"Closure on a Bed of Nails" by Chad Lutzke
"Fast Car" by Tracy Fahey
"Tears of Buddy" by Patrick R. McDonough
"Puzzle Pieces" by Armand Rosamilia
"Pretty Like Butterflies" by Tim Waggoner
"S1:E7" by Robert Ford
"Pain is Your Teacher" by Michael Harris Cohen
"Memory Lane" by Red Lagoe
"The Silence of the Sirens" by Loren Rhoads
"It's Me Not You" by Jonathan Winn
"Sisters of Loss" by Mark Allan Gunnells
"Talisman" by Jezzy Wolfe
"The Melting of Your Gods" by Mercedes M. Yardley
"Charms" by Dino Parenti
"Not Your Average Monster" by Kenneth W. Cain
"Where the Children Run in Darkness" by Guy Medley
"Tunnels" by Tom Over (winner)
"The Truth about Dani" by Joe Mercer
"Baby Savannah" by M.J. Sydney
"Rats Scratched in the Linen Cupboard" by Dani Brown
"Raining" by John Boden
"The Death Experience" by L.A. Story

In this volume…

Taunted by a cactus, a man copes with grief after the loss of his wife. 

Alondra DeCourval visits Franz Kafka's grave to think about death.

A lovestruck woman strives to connect with a man she's convinced is The One. 

A short meditation on the haunting nature of love and loss, and the aftermath of both.

Victor's sanity has been threaded together by the memory of his daughter's voice, until now, when her laughter falls silent.

An adrenaline junkie believes he can take on the ultimate challenge—coming back from the dead.

In our ever-changing world, what we view as a monster is constantly evolving…but at what cost?

Bright colors may be beautiful, but sometimes they can be dangerous.

Sometimes the darkness we harbor within is best left behind closed doors.

A surprise wedding present from daughter to father, built over a lifetime, reveals his true nature to all his guests.

While coming to terms with the death of his mother a man learns that he harbours a strange ability, one that could threaten to tear his reality apart. 

A woman's last letter to her abusive ex-husband returns the favor of his tutelage.

Lillian's search for her daughter's doll leads her on a journey through tragedy, loss, and madness. 

The brutal murder a man's only child leaves him burdened with a question only he can answer.

 

Proudly brought to you by Crystal Lake Publishing—Tales from the Darkest Depths.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing
• Release date: Jun 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393663492

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

Welcome to the very first volume in Crystal Lake’s series of flash fiction anthologies.

It all started earlier this year, when I launched a flash fiction writing competition on social media. The idea was simple. I’d post a monthly challenge on social media to all authors, giving them only a few days to write a flash fiction story within the parameters of the challenge (word count, theme, or perhaps a prompt), take submissions via email, and choose only the best from those submissions. Those stories would then be posted on our Patreon page for our patrons to enjoy. I’d post one story a day, and at the end of the challenge patrons would vote for a winner. The winner would of course get a cash prize, an author spotlight on our newsletter, and publication. The winner in this specific volume was Tunnells by Tom Over.

Not only is it a great way to reward our patrons with even more great perks, but it constantly proves to be a great source of inspiration for authors who rise to the challenge. It also brings a lot of new traffic to our Patreon page, which is constantly improving to offer readers and/or writers great perks.

Little did we all know that the quality of stories would be so amazing that more than just the winning stories would eventually be published. What you’ll find in these anthologies are the most popular of the stories that made it to the Patreon stage.

So if you’re an author or reader, or just a fan of the genre and independent publishing, be sure to check out our tiers on Patreon. It’s a great place to go behind the scenes of the company while supporting authors, the small press, and this genre we all love so much. Plus, it’s the home of our Still Water Bay dark fiction series. The very first episode is free to read right here.

We’re also very proud of all the amazing monthly perks we offer our patrons, which includes original fiction, exclusive content, behind the scenes reports, new releases, books from our backlist, exercises, interviews, and support for authors.

For those not familiar with Patreon, it’s a monthly subscription-based site where you can follow creators in exchange for behind the scenes access, sneak peeks, and perks associated with the tier you pay for. There are a lot of amazing creators there. Just be sure to look for a tier that best fits your needs and wallet.

So welcome to Shallow Waters. Welcome to Crystal Lake Publishing—Tales from the Darkest Depths.

Joe Mynhardt

22 June, 2019

Chad Lutzke has had a few dozen stories published, and some of his books include: Of Foster Homes & Flies, Stirring the Sheets, and Skullface Boy. His work has been praised by authors Jack Ketchum, Stephen Graham Jones, James Newman, and his own mother. He can be found lurking at www.chadlutzke.com

Closure on a Bed of Nails

Chad Lutzke

It was the only cactus that still blossomed flowers. That was the landmark, the bouquet of ghost-white petals. Without them, the cactus stood amongst the others like a field of conforming soldiers. Spiked and juniper green. At its foot, feet beneath the soil, the bones of his lover. A gentle, beautiful woman who taught him to see beauty in the most mundane of things. Even the desert. He liked to think it was her who sprouted the flowers, reminding him of the beauty still found in an empty world. Reminding him of her, of their engagement that ended early by sickness, then death.

But the flowers had long ceased serving their purpose. They were no longer a beautiful sight among the bland. Now they were a prick in his heel, a thorn in his side. A still photo of cancer that haunted him daily. That ivory blemish in a bone-dry sea. A scar outside his home, across the road, catching his eye and taking his breath. The cursed things glowed against the green-fingered sandscape.

Remember the time we…

The blank could be filled with countless memories, each of them worthy of remembrance. But when would the healing come? Where was the closure he was promised? The flowers seemed to mock him now.

She’s buried here with us. We have her now, they’d say as he left for work, as he came home.

Guilt clawed at him for his disdain toward the blooming. How could he hate the thing she’d sent in her place?

One final time the blemish caught his eye. This needed to end. The healing had to begin. He retrieved the ax, headed across the road and through the field of cacti. The sun massaged his naked back, the wind his scalp.

He had stood there more times than he cared to remember, wetting the ground with a leaking face, overtaken with grief. And here he stood again, for the last time.

I love you too much, he said, fingering the soft, white petals. Like baby’s hair and avian down.

The horrible beauty. The damned reminder.

He plucked a single flower from its nest, anticipating a scream. Not from her, but from himself. He placed the flower in his pocket and gripped the ax, then swung the blade at the base of the plant. And this time there was a scream. His throat burned with the shriek as he swung again and again. His screams raced across the desert, warning the tendrilled orchard that the healing must begin.

His face straining, he swung again and again. The desert ate the sound, consumed it like rainfall. Another swing and the cactus tipped. It would never give birth again.

The man dropped the ax and threw himself atop the spiny plant, its quills sinking into his flesh. A punishment for his closure. A horizontal crucifixion. He bled on the green, decorating the cactus. Christmas colors on a bed of barren earth.

As he hugged the plant, its spines digging deep, he begged for forgiveness, pleaded with her to understand. And as if an understanding had been made, it began