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Things Are Getting Weird Out There!

... so why not get weirder? How you ask? By downloading the first full issue of Weird Whispers from the Nightscape Press webstore FOR FREE (or on Amazon for your Kindle for 99 cents )! Yes, it's really late. And yes, Issue #2 will be available soon too. No, the paperback edition still isn't ready. Yes, it will be soon as well. Don Noble is working on the full cover spread still but it's not his only project currently. But yeah, we were going to kick off the first issue for 99 cents but decided with the current state of things, it would be better to just give it away for all you fellow social distancers out there during this whole Covid-19 outbreak craziness. We very much hope you enjoy this first full issue and that you will consider subscribing to the first year of Weird Whispers  in eBook or trade paperback! In other Weird Whispers news, we just got the contract back for a brand new story by Shannon Barber! We'll update as we solidify which issue Shannon's
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Weird Whispers Story #4: The Irrational Dress Society by Farah Rose Smith

The Irrational Dress Society by Farah Rose Smith “The other shape If shape it might be call’d that shape had none Distinguishable, in member, joint, or limb; Or substance might be call’d that shadow seemed; For such seemed either; black he stood as night; Fierce as ten furies; terrible as hell; And shook a deadly dart. What seem’d his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on.” - Paradise Lost , 2.666-73 PROLOGUE The long-disbanded Irrational Dress Society was an organization founded in 1912 in St. Petersburg, on the banks of the Neva. It described its purpose thus:
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Weird Whispers Story #6: A Regime of Marching Faceless by S.L. Edwards

A Regime of Marching Faceless by S.L. Edwards I’m far too afraid to wonder how they removed my face. This place is dark, full of hidden ovens. I know I have no face because I've seen the others, walking about with smooth, noseless mannequin heads. If I look carefully I can see the grey smoke poking through the corners of this dark place, the red light of hidden fires. When people vanish, we mutter to each other: “The fires opened up. And ate them whole.” When the fires emerge, some just stumble in. Before I can blink, the walls are closed and dark again. The screams from behind them sound as if coming from behind a gag, panicked and wild but somehow stifled. These tunnels beneath the city are always burning. In the world above, you can see their traces in the thick vapor pouring out from tall black towers, tombstone smokestacks that mark this network of secret factories.
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