Datlow, Ellen (ed) - Nightmares / Датлоу, Эллен (ред) - Кошмары [2016, epub, ENG]

Shallaballah short story by Mark Samuels Sob in the Silence / Плач в темноте short story by Gene Wolfe Our Turn Too Will One Day Come novelette by Brian Hodge Dead Sea Fruit short story by Kaaron Warren Closet Dreams short story by Lisa Tuttle Spectral Evidence short story by Gemma Files Hushabye short story by Simon Bestwick Very Low-Flying Aircraft / Бреющий полет short story by Nicholas Royle The Goosle / Гузка short story by Margo Lanagan The Clay Party / Партия Клея short story by Steve Duffy Lonegan's Luck novelette by Stephen Graham Jones Mr. Pigsny short story by Reggie Oliver At Night, When the Demons Come short story by Ray Cluley Was She Wicked? Was She Good? short story by M. Rickert The Shallows novelette by John Langan Strappado short story by Laird Barron Little Pig short story by Anna Taborska Omphalos short story by Livia Llewellyn How We Escaped Our Certain Fate short story by Dan Chaon That Tiny Flutter of the Heart I Used to Call Love short story by Robert Shearman Interstate Love Song (Murder Ballad No. 8) novelette by Caitlín R. Kiernan Shay Corsham Worsted short story by Garth Nix The Atlas of Hell / Атлас ада novelette by Nathan Ballingrud Ambitious Boys Like You short story by Richard Kadrey

“This,” the horror writer told the family visiting him, “is beyond any question the least haunted house in the Midwest. No ghost, none at all, will come within miles of the place. So I am assured.” Robbie straightened his little glasses and mumbled, “Well, it looks haunted.” “It does, young man.” After teetering between seven and eight, the horror writer decided that Robbie was about seven. “It’s the filthy yellow stucco. No doubt it was a cheerful yellow once, but God only knows how long it’s been up. I’m going to have it torn off, every scrap of it, and put up fresh, which I will paint white.” “Can’t you just paint over?” Kiara asked. (Kiara of the all-conquering pout, of the golden hair and the tiny silver earrings.) Looking very serious, the horror writer nodded. And licked his lips only mentally. “I’ve tried, believe me. That hideous color is the result of air pollution—of smoke, soot, and dirt, if you will—that has clung to the stucco. Paint over it, and it bleeds out through the new paint. Washing—” . . .