City of Hell Chronicles – The Door From Below and enter a City of Hell ebook giveaway…

My gore-soaked contribution to the City of Hell Chronicles Vol 1 is entitled ‘The Door From Below’. Read on, if you dare, to learn a little bit more about the horrors that await therein:

Jin, Sho and Sadao, together known as C.I.D. (Capitalistic Idiot Dogs) come to Hong Kong from their home in Japan to play a gig at Joe Bananas. They’ve heard about the bug problems in the US, everyone has. No one’s too concerned and, in Hong Kong, the Chinese Government is keen to keep the peace, prevent panic.

They’ve made light of the situation, made sure to deny that any similar issues threaten their Great State. Only the religious nuts don’t buy it. They’ve flooded the streets, representations of every faith working side by side in an attempt to promote panic.

C.I.D. don’t care. They’re here to fuck shit up and play some goddamned music, have some fucked-up fun while they’re at it too. Then, halfway through their gig, the ground begins to rumble… brings with it some fucked-up fun that’s way out of their league.

Because this quaking of the earth doesn’t precede the arrival of Maurr’s Minions in Hong Kong, no, something worse than wicked their way comes. Something twisted, malformed. A cruel, imperfect nightmare built from the malevolent splicing of kidnapped humans with Maurr’s Minions. The Stock Takers.

A terror created in the underground, insect version of Unit 731 where, subjected to horrific chemical and biological changes, monstrous humanoid bipeds are born to raise hell. They come in trench coats, trilbies and masks to tear China and Hong Kong apart. To pave the way for Maurr’s dominion.

Through the doors from below, dark portals connecting the Hellish demesnes that lie beneath unsuspecting feet to the surface, they pour into the dark streets, bringing ruin in their wake. Thousands will die but the worst fate is reserved for the horrifically mutilated living… spared only to submit to the pleasure of the awaiting Minions below. And for the survivors, who must weather the rising of Maurr and his insect armies.

Together Jin, Sho and Sadao escape the gig by kicking some arse to avoid the control of the military that swoop in to take the situation in hand. They return to their hotel, the Box Inn, to plan their next move. It’s there they find one, a door from below, pushing slowly through layers of flooring laid over decades of slapdash repairs by the ever cheap-skate Eddie Lin, owner of the Box Inn.

Read their story to find out what happens when the door finally manages to force its way up through the rubble of Eddie’s repairs and opens, unleashing the Stock Takers upon the Capitalistic Idiot Dogs.

Rising from hell on December the 1st, the City of Hell Chronicles Volume 1 brings you eight horrifying accounts of Maurr’s rise to power. Be sure to buy it and submerge yourself in the horror of Maurr’s reign.

Alternatively… I have a couple of ebook copies to give away. All you have to do is spin me a creepy door tale in a mere 100 words in the comments below and you could be one of two lucky winners of an advanced copy of the City of Hell Chronicles Volume 1 and all its delicious depravities. So get your scribing hats on, sharpen your fingers and tap me out a tale of terror fit for a door in the ruins of the city of hell.

This fearsome flash competition will run until the official release date of Volume 1, Dec 1st – that’s eight days to conjure up some truly warped mini tales for me to judge. Winners will be announced on Dec 3rd!

When you’re done warping my mind with your 100 words of woe, please go and peruse at your leisure the wonderful City of Hell site: brought to you by Colin Barnes very own Anachron Press. Or feel free to follow @thecityofhell on twitter to keep up to date with news of the release date and further hellish fun!


7 thoughts on “City of Hell Chronicles – The Door From Below and enter a City of Hell ebook giveaway…

  1. Creaking, quivering, divergently shivering, the door opened with treacle slowness. I stepped back, aghast, wondering, where had it come from? A man lost in the broken borders of a place destroyed by financial misanthropy will look for anything he can use to pay the bills, but this door creaked, quivered, diverged from reality, shivered open and revealed the abyss beyond. I couldn’t dig this up and sell it on to Pugh the Scrap. Maybe I should have run, sprinted away through the wreckage of the steel-works, but I stayed and watched and waited for what was to come.
    I’m in the belly of the beast now.
    At least it’s warm

  2. I tried to stop them. Instead I gave them what they needed; my body. I am chained and broken, they begin their work on me. At first, I thought it only torture but the blades slice and penetrate without questions or demands. They are deaf to the secrets that tumble from my lips. Through delirium I recognise the patterns they are carving in my flesh. The last stroke will open me from breast to groin, the hell spawn will pour forth through the wound. I pray for oblivion and know it will not come. I am to be the door.

  3. He walked into the kitchen to find the laundry room door swaying. An odd creaking seemed to be accompanying it. ‘That door hasn’t made a sound in years.’ He called out for her, she didn’t answer. The shadows beneath the door swayed in rhythm and took a life of their own. He stopped as the swaying did, a pool of blood slowly birthed from under the door. He stooped to examine it, hopeful that his eyes were tricking him.

    The door slammed edge-first into his skull, reeling him. A gunshot echoed, she stepped from behind the door, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  4. She can see the door, green in the slice of light, all else is black.

    She knows someone took her there as a child; something good planned – a birthday party? Her limbs shake and a child’s wail snakes from her lips. Fractured pictures flash. Minutes or an hour pass as her body speaks its pain; the shock drains out. She’s lying now on the cold floor; still, curled. Watching the door. Unspoken, she knew they’d be back one day – the cage in her head too weak to retain the horror.

    Too close, too close, don’t breathe on my face.

  5. Just snuck in before the deadline – not sure if in the vein of City of Hell but let’s give it a shot anyway:

    Schrödinger’s mistress

    I walked out on her two years ago. I walked out as she lay there bleeding in that windowless room. The blood pooling around her as she clutched the butcher’s knife driven into her abdomen.

    I walked out across the sticky carpet whilst she stared imploringly at me, desperate to understand why; her life slowly ebbing away.

    I walked out on her and locked the door. It was the only way to keep her alive.

    Every day since I stand and stare at that door, pausing as I go to open it, then turn away.

    Sometimes I hear her crying.

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