To every North American horror fan’s excitement, book editor, actor, and HorrorHound columnist Aaron Christensen (also known as “Dr.

The Ravine

A hunting she will go,
A hunting she will go,
Hi, ho, the derry oh, a hunting she will go.

1.

I woke up at six o’clock on Saturday and decided I would hunt.  I pulled on my jeans, T-shirt and old brown shoes.  My father had worn thick leather boots.  I folded my hair under my red hunting hat and stuffed some peanuts and an apple into my coat pocket.  The 56 bus took me over the Golden Gate Bridge, and when I saw some woods I got out. 

We've got a new video for Benjamin Wachs' story "A Concise History of the Heavens," originally performed at Action Fiction! by Andie Grace. 

Take a look!

Omnibucket co-producer Benjamin Wachs' first collection of short stories has just been released:  "A Guide to Bars and Nightlife in the Sacred City"!

It's available here, and the video is pretty damn good, if we do say so ourselves. 

Check it out!

An aversion to Viennese music, the type she heard in her youth at the great amusement park by the dying green river, where all the swallows nested nearly on top of one another under a bridge and scared her with their dense blackness. Why it was the pipes of the organ that frightened her more she was unsure; perhaps the brash and hollow sound of the low notes felt oddly like wind in a desert though she had never been to a desert– or cold touching her skin at night as she changed positions in her child’s narrow bed.

I was nearly pregnant – with child by a hair’s breadth. I remember it vividly. It nearly happened in Paris. Had my boyfriend been French, he would have used the past subjunctive to describe the event: I could have been pregnant. He couldn’t. He was Spanish. I suppose he still is. In any case, it’s not altogether accurate. I should have said: “J’ai failli tomber enceinte,” meaning I should have “fallen” pregnant, as if it were the outcome of some fated flip-a-coin. Luckily, the coin didn’t drop at all. It merely levitated until completely corroded by the damp Parisian air.

Lorraine arrived at the beach.  She had come to the end of Denman Street.  In the distance, the violence of the dying sun had left the waterline covered in purple scratches.  The soil and grass around her had the earthy smell of beets.  Lorraine passed the first Izakayan restaurant to check out the second one.  The first one seemed better.  It had soft electric blue light, and sharp black shadows along the walls.  Lorraine waited at the bar, observing the people around her.

She had had vodka today.

It was nearing dusk last Tuesday when I signed the lease on my new apartment.

We started "Action Fiction!", in conjunction with The San Francisco Writers Community and Fiction365, a year-and-a-half ago, and candidly no one is more surprised than us that it's turned out to be this good.  

We know it would be good - don't get us wrong - but this good?  Magic good?  Inspiring performers and writers alike to new heights, good?  

No, honestly, that was a surprise to us too.  But the shows have been consistently that great.  

Hey, remember how the internet was going to end racism?  How the digital revolution would close the gaps between the haves and have-nots?  Maybe eliminate money altogether?

Remember that?

It’s cute when little children assign their toys superpowers.  It’s nothing but trouble when grown-ups do it.

Today we’re told that digital technology will change everything about the study of literature:  quantifying it, taking out all the messy subjectivity, and reveal stunning new insights.

Promises promises.