Daniel Bradbury
Bio
Big fan of long walks in the woods, rye Manhattans, Spanish literature, jazz, and vinyl records.
Stories (19/0)
Home Video
BUCK TANK CANYON The television screen flickered into life for what would be the last time, casting a pale glow across the carpet in the half-light of Reggie's motel room. The shot framed the feet of the remaining counselors facing inward in a tight circle. Reggie could hear snatches of agitated conversation but wasn't able to pick out anything specific over the fizzing and warbling of the old celluloid. The shot began to pan upward, but there was a loud smack as something hit the top of the camera and it pointed back down towards the red earth. "Turn that fucking thing off! What's wrong with you?" Fox hissed. "Listen, would you believe that any of this shit was real if there wasn't video evidence?" Beetle spat back in response. "You saw what happened! He was torn to pieces. There's nothing out here that can do shit like that, especially to a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound brick shithouse like Chris. Something is seriously fucked..."
By Daniel Bradburyabout a month ago in Horror
Home Video
Reggie was a man who was driven to collect. Vinyl records, purchased indiscriminately, occupied uneasy towers of shelving leaning against his living room walls. The guest bedroom had never hosted company, unless you counted the endless piles of books that rested there. Thirteen separate editions of Don Quixote lay in various states of disrepair on the old queen-sized mattress. His bedroom was made accessible only by a narrow desire path through towers of vintage toys (still in the boxes), cookware, and celebrity memorabilia. A bobblehead figure of Jimi Hendrix watched over the eclectic hoard from the top of a tower of old cookbooks in the corner opposite Reggie's bedroom door.
By Daniel Bradbury2 months ago in Horror
- Top Story - January 2024
Living ShadowTop Story - January 2024
There's a kind of darkness that belongs to Illinois. If you ever find yourself a little east of the Mississippi river on a night in late autumn, you might see it then. If you're on a road that's outside one of those fragile halos of electric light and civilization (and let's be frank, that accounts for most roads in Illinois) you'll probably get to watch it close in around your car: a cool, viscous absence of light that's not so much black as it is gray. Like the color has been sucked out of everything.
By Daniel Bradbury5 months ago in Horror
The Octopus
Traditionally, we humans have placed ourselves at the far right of the intelligence bell curve. Not just that, but we tend to claim we're the only ones there. Pigs, elephants, a couple breeds of dogs might fall somewhere near the middle, but when it comes to smarts, we've just gone and declared ourselves the cream of the crop. I've always thought that was a bit self-important.
By Daniel Bradbury2 years ago in Horror
- Runner-Up in High-Ku Challenge
- Runner-Up in The Mystery Box Challenge
Top of the ChartsRunner-Up in The Mystery Box Challenge
Have you ever looked at the liner notes on a CD? Maybe you were on a road trip, bored of watching endless stretches of farmland roll by your window and you needed something to distract you. Maybe you're one of those rare people who gets curious about who and what goes into making a record and you decided to find out. If either of those apply to you, there's a chance you might have seen my name. You wouldn't remember it, of course. Just a handful of tiny black letters populating one of those overcrowded blocks of text, tucked away in the liner notes of an album. "Blake Mickens: bass guitar on tracks 2, 7, and 12." "Martin Aubuchon: drums and percussion on tracks 3 and 11." "Special thanks to Chloe Hall, Calvin Hawkins, Jorge Dominguez and Sylvia Adzoh." If you pick up the right record, I'm somewhere in there.
By Daniel Bradbury2 years ago in Horror
Transients: The Story of a Band
Within two hours, the tiny band of transients and their new gear were huddled in the belly of a ferry and headed for the island of Cretir: a place their newfound benefactor claimed to be the home of the site they needed to cast their spell. “If the writings are correct, the music should be inscribed on a Witches’ shrine on the north side of the island.” Morgana paused to steady herself as the boat met a rough wave. “But given the attitude towards Witch-Faith at the time of No'kjül’s writings I think we’ll probably be looking for an hidden shrine.”
By Daniel Bradbury2 years ago in Fiction
Transients: The Story of a Band
The pacing of Hollie’s companion was rigid and meticulous enough to play metronome for the ancient Orchestra. Five minutes, Hollie had been at her locker. All that time, she watched Guardswoman Jace tear up and down the locker room, gnashing her teeth. If she'd noticed Hollie, she gave no acknowledgement. Did Hollie dare ask?
By Daniel Bradbury2 years ago in Fiction
