The Lemonade Stand Massacre
This is my first newsletter. Expect Awkwardness.
And, as this is my inaugural publication, it will run long compared to future editions. However, as the wizards of the Mystic Crystal keep their magic game, so shall I aim to keep this newsletter: tight.
For the three of you that got that, you’re welcome. It’s entirely possible only three people are reading. In such a case, I need to adjust my metrics.
The Awkwardness set in earlier than expected.
I’m Skylar Dates.
I’ve been an indie author since leaving the Heavy Metal scene years ago. My style ranges from grim fantasy to cosmic sci-fi, but the craft and genre I am most committed to is horror. I write stories in the framework of modern Midwest Gothic: crumbling barns where sinister ghosts dwell, roadside barbecue stands that might be home to cannibal priests, abandoned grist mills where echoes of the past intrude on the present. That kind of horror. Atmospheric, unsettling. Dreadful.
I write this way because I am a Midwesterner to my core. I was raised in Northern Ohio, near the banks of Lake Erie, on the edge of cornfields and nothingness. Whole swaths of the Midwest are empty as the cosmic void: vast and desolate, but for the waving wheat and soy like drifting motes of dust in the black. That mute, that vacancy, informs my fundamental idea of horror.
That horror isn’t the roaring monster. It’s the quiet when you can’t be certain the monster is even there.
If you're looking for the campy slasher dripping with viscera, you're in the aisle of the rental store. I find ‘Halloween’ to be one of the greatest cinematic achievements ever made and I still have no desire to write it. The silence interests me more than the scream.
Which brings me to this publication: The Lemonade Stand Massacre. A few years ago while penning my debut novella, I worked with another writer from Ohio attached to a project attempting to resurrect the pulp fiction magazines of the 1930s and 40s that gave us writers like Robert E. Howard and H.P. Lovecraft. The original ‘The Lemonade Stand Massacre’ and its writing staff were suitably gonzo. But the zine was mismanaged, and it crumbled under lack of company commitment.
In the years following, its name passed (like a dust-bowl curse) to that other Ohio writer. When I mentioned I wanted to find an essay voice and hone my short story craft, he asked me if I was interested in doing it under the Lemonade Stand monicker.
Fucking, of course I did.
Consider this The Lemonade Stand Massacre: Under New Management. You’ll find a mix of short form horror and creepy sci-fi, interspersed with essays on spooky stuff, writing craft, cool books, and the underlying philosophies that explore our need to stare into the void.
It won’t be as ambitious as the original publication. More like something you might find walking down a shady cul-de-sac, on a lingering summer afternoon as dusk loiters on the horizon. A propped up, rickety stand that promises fresh squeezed pulp under the long shadows of looming trees.
Now, in the immortal words of Marty Debergi, “hey, enough of my yackin’.” You came for spooks, so let’s get to the spooks.
We’ll kick off the inaugural drop with ‘The Midnight Diner,’ a piece I wrote pondering the nature of dread over fear. It remains one of my more atmospheric short works and aptly sets the tone for what’s to come.
Happy Hauntings. Thanks for reading.
Crossbone hugs and phantom wind kisses,
Skylar Dates
