The Rock N' Roll Horror Zine

Ghost Town by Chase Block “Are you done yet? It’s almost the good part!” Graham was eager to share his passion for movies with, well, anyone. In this particular instance he was summoning his wife, L.J., who sat across the room, her ginger face glowing from the light of her computer monitor. “No. There are no gigs in Arkansas this weekend. Everywhere in Little Rock and Fayetteville is booked. Why does it have to be Arkansas?” “The list!” Graham referred to a list of states they had played. Their band, Ghost Town, was based out of Oklahoma City, and Graham had got it in his head they should try to play a show in every state to ‘get the word out’ on their way to superstardom. So far, they’d played nearly every state that bordered Oklahoma. Arkansas was next, yet superstardom was still a long way away. Despite shifting responsibility to that piece of paper, L.J. definitely blamed Graham. “Get in here!” L.J. rolled her eyes, then her chair to see whatever it was Graham...

Issue #4 of The Rock N' Roll Horror Zine is out now! This issue is a strange one and while reading, you’ll encounter a rock and roll cult, reanimated Ramones, a demon who lives inside vinyl records and more. Featuring stories by A.K. McCarthy, Laslo Tamasfi, Willow Croft, Ben Fitts, D.J. Tyrer, Chase Block and cover art by Rose Chateau.  Available in turquoise and grey. Purchase directly for a slight discount (U.S. only) here:  https://doomgoat666.wixsite.com/benfitts/zines Or anywhere in the world through Etsy here:  https://www.etsy.com/listing/639457118/the-rock-n-roll-horror-zine-4

Farewell Tour By Chase Block The flashbulbs cast a strobe on the five, long haired, leather clad men in various states of their mid-sixties. The rapid clip of camera shutters accompanied the sound of shouts from the press corps. The sound of fame. “You there! Liquorice lip!” The lead singer for Gatesohell, Roger Cummings, sat in the center of the table, calling on the reporter with a thin black mustache. “Michael Cervil, Metal Digest . How does it feel, playing your last show, ever?” “Pretty good, mate. Next question.” Roger said, eliciting chuckles from the assembly. “‘Za bit, how’z you say, whimsful.” “Wistful,” Charles Sitton, the drummer, corrected him. “Yea, ‘at’s wot I said, whimsful,” Roger said. “It’s been a long road, you know? To fink we started ‘ere in Forgesbury, now endin’ ‘ere, makes you feel we’ve gone full circle.” He spoke with a thick Kentish, informed by elements of Cockney he absorbed over the years he struggled to make it in London. Black John, th...