Creature Publishing – förlag

If you liked What We Do in the Shadows, you should buy this book. If you hated Twilight, you should also buy this book.

Immortal beloveds Rebekah and Hugh are on vacation! Against a backdrop of ongoing war, this pair of chic emotional vampires from San Francisco sets off on a queer Black Sea Cruise, eager to relax, join an orgy, and feast upon their fellow passengers’ desires and sorrows. When Hugh becomes enchanted by an alluring—and possibly magical—nonbinary social media influencer named Heaven, Rebekah’s reality capsizes, and her true nature is unleashed.

A smutty horror-comedy featuring unbridled narcissism, Vampires at Sea is a hilarious snack!

Midsommar meets The Final Girl Support Group in this horror novel about a woman who survived cult killings as a child and is striving to be "normal," but a spontaneous trip into the woods and the voices in her head keep pulling her to the dark side.

So what if Sadie hears talking dead animals and a strange, comforting male voice in her head? The therapist insists these are just symptoms of PTSD. It makes sense considering that she hid under the bed and watched as her best friends were slaughtered.

But the murders were seventeen years ago, back when her name was Sabrina. Now, she's Sadie: a perfectly normal 29-year-old. She works as a physical therapist assistant and lifts weights with her boyfriend, Lucas, who's the sweetest, most considerate man-as long as he's not angry. But when Lucas spontaneously agrees to join a couples trip to a cabin in the woods, the visions get worse, a strange figure stalks her during the night, and that male voice in Sadie's head keeps calling, asking her to do things she's never fathomed.

Sadie's not sure if it's her paranoia or something else entirely . . . But she is sure of one thing-this time, she's not going to sit idly by as everything starts to unravel.

Shot through with gallows humor and speaking in the voice of a trusted best friend, this self-deprecating horror novel explores medical trauma through Irish folklore, asking “Can a sick woman ever be trusted?"

Brigid—that’s the Irish Breej, not “Bridge-id,” though it’s not like she’d correct you—has had a rough go of it. Her mother abused her when she was little, her best friend (and secret crush) is too busy chasing some blonde to answer Brigid’s calls, and she lost her job thanks to chronic pelvic pain with no identifiable cause. As a self-doubting, disabled adult, she’s certain that everything that has happened to her is her fault.

Now her mother has gone missing and Brigid’s only option is to move back into her childhood home in the idyllic Midwestern town of St. Charles, Illinois. Soon the uncanny begins: A particular crow that once harassed her reappears, following her everywhere. A painting of Jesus keeps coming back, no matter how many times she throws it away. Frozen body parts show up in places rubber band balls and door stoppers ought to be. Every night the same nightmare repeats: her real mother is dead and decaying in the closet, and the identical mother who raised her is not her mother. But it’s all in Brigid’s head. It’s all her fault. It must be. What other explanation could there be?

After all, since when can a sick woman be trusted?

Copper City’s bloody history is steeped in ghost stories and whispers of serial killers, but three girls have caught the attention of something far more sinister.

A grandmother tormented by visions tried to warn the town, but no one listened. Now, a haunted inheritance has passed to her granddaughters, Audrey and Mara. When Mara’s body is discovered in the old mine, Audrey fears her grandmother’s premonition is manifesting.

The nightmare begins as Mara’s spirit returns—lurking under Audrey’s skin, hellbent on vengeance and desperate to rekindle things with her former girlfriend, Zadie. Willing to hijack Audrey’s body to get what she wants, Mara drags them both into a deadly pursuit.

When another girl in town goes missing, Audrey, Mara, and Zadie know the killer has struck again. In a fight to solve Mara's death and uncover the mystery of disappearances in Copper City, the girls soon find themselves at war with each other. How do you survive long enough to hunt a murderer on the loose if the person inside you might kill you first?

In G.G. Silverman’s debut fairytale-horror collection The Blood Year Daughter, a woman builds husbands out of gravel and slaughterhouse feathers, two sisters eat cinnamon-scented pieces of their mother, and a charming doctor’s murdered brides whisper warnings to his newest wife.

Silverman’s women and girls escape smiling captors, draw blood to curse their loved ones, and wield fear to defend themselves in post-apocalyptic worlds. They ignore the insults of rotting Elderwomen filled with flies, resist marriage proposals, and fill themselves—joyfully—with multitudes of snakes. They are murdered and choose to live again.

Drawing from folktales, Silverman’s Italian roots, and killers both real and imagined, The Blood Year Daughter’s stories recall Kelly Link and Carmen Maria Machado. Spare and glittering as a spiderweb, sharp as a needle through a husband’s nose, they establish G.G. Silverman as a formidable voice in feminist horror and magical realism.