The Cold and the Dead

By Allan Walsh

Macey wants to forge her own path in life and make a name for herself, but it can be tough living in the wild country. Seems like everything wants to kill you out there.

The Cold and the Dead is a short horror story. If you like grim-dark adventure, skin-crawling horror, and hard-knock characters, you'll love The Cold and the Dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allan Walsh
• Release date: Aug 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201139988

Allan Walsh

Allan Walsh is a writer and artist, born in sun-scorched Australia and raised in the grungy suburbs of West London. He is a keen martial arts fan, lover of fantasy, and a movie buff. Allan has been influenced by cult Asian film directors such as Jacki Chan and Stephen Chow, Spec Fiction novelists the like of Joe Abercrombie and graphic novelists such as Wendy and Richard Pini.  Allan currently resides in Brisbane, where he enjoys creating new worlds through his writing.

Book preview

The Cold and the Dead

Macey perched on the edge of her old rusty bed, wind howling through the cracked window, snowflakes blasting through the gaps of the wooden shutters as they clattered in their frames. A fire roared in the stone hearth, sending embers swirling up the chimney. A cold draught blew across Macey’s brow, breathing life into the flames, making them flare up in an angry dance. The bed creaked as she nudged herself forwards, closer to the warmth. She looked across at her father snuggled down into the threadbare cushions of the faded couch beside her. The golden glow of the fire flickered on his weathered skin, the incandescent light setting his hair shimmering.

What you fidgeting for? her pa asked.

I’m cold, hungry, and bored, Pa. Seems winter don’t want to let up. It’s bad enough being cooped up on this here farm without being stuck inside for days on end ’cause of a storm.

It’ll pass soon enough, he said pushing himself up from the couch. He lifted the iron lid from the pot on the fire and scraped a ladle of broth into a bowl."

Here’s your soup, he said, offering her a bowl, steam wafting from its brim. Macey took it, and held the soup under her nose, breathing in the rich aroma. She felt her mouth watering.

That’s the last of the rations, should help a little with your hunger, but best take your time to savour it, her pa said. He looked past her to the window.

I told you not to sell all the cattle.

If that wolf didn’t get the chickens we’d have been alright. Let’s hope this weather breaks soon so I can go into town and get supplies.

A howling wind caught the window shutters, slamming them hard against their bracing, giving Macey’s father a start.

It’s alright Pa, Macey said with a smile, "You built this home with your own