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Signups are now open for the December 30 issue; the text deadline for the issue is Tuesday, December 10 and the art deadline is Saturday, December 28.

Please reply to this post if you plan to submit a story or artwork for this issue, indicating whether you are interested in contributing to the issue as an author and/or artist, and whether or not you are looking for a collaborative partner. As always, you don’t have to sign up to participate, and you’re not creating an unbreakable contract by signing up, but it’s always a good idea!

This issue is theme free: Get ready to ring in the new year with the biggest of our issues, where no theme and no upper word count limit mean you never know what you’re going to get — or how much of it!

Quick Answers: Interested in participating but don’t know where to start? Bring your quick questions here!

Submission Guidelines for Fiction: All the specifics for text submissions. READ BEFORE SUBMITTING.

Submission Guidelines for Art: Whether you’re illustrating or submitting a standalone piece, here’s what you need to know.

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To make sure you don’t miss a single deadline, click here for our Google calendar with the dates pre-loaded.

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Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

cover by 2013

~*~

Through The Woods, Homewards, by Kit Miller

Dead Hung Rigging, by Togi Kayako (土宜草子) *

Sakazuki, by Domashita Romero (地下ロメロ)

Something Else, by shukyou (主教)

Laid to Rest, by juou no zan (女王のザン)

Gentle Giant, by Holden Marrs

Taking Care of It, by Iron Eater *

* illustrated

~*~

Legend says that long time ago, in a long-forgotten age known only as “2005,” a gay little webzine appeared in a small town. No one knew where this gay little webzine had come from or where it was going. The people of that small town only knew that it went by a name so terrifying that the mere sound of it caused milk to spoil in jugs and frost to form on flowers: Shousetsu Bang*Bang.

Every month or two, Shousetsu Bang*Bang would put out a new issue, bringing panic and restless nights to all the townsfolk, who could not sleep on account of the sheer amount of sexy thoughts that gripped their imaginations with each new page turned. Every time a new issue would emerge, the townsfolk would hide in their houses and hold their breaths, waiting to see what erotic delights were coming to haunt their dreams this time. And October always ended … in death.

Even today, people still say that if you stand in front of your computer screen in the dark on the last Monday in October and say the name “Shousetsu Bang*Bang” three times, an issue will appear. And not just any issue, oh no, but a horrifying issue filled with blood-curdling frights that will chill your to your very bones!

(Or, uh, some cute love stories with queer sex and also ghosts. It’s kind of a mixed bag in here.)

Do you dare? Do you dare enter the spooky nightmare realm of the gayest Halloween you’ve ever seen? Then take my hand and stare into your screen. Good? Now repeat after me: Shousetsu Bang*Bang, Shousetsu Bang*Bang, Shousetsu Bang*Bang–

—

(For summaries, creators’ notes, and more, we would usually tell you to see this issue’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki. In the interim, however, please visit the relevant Google Doc of contributor commentary for similar content.)

[shousetsubangbang]

by Togi Kayako

Patrick switched the foot he had braced against his car and prayed with all his might that he looked even a little cool. With any luck, Risa would arrive before Dave. If Patrick was posing too obviously, she’d leap at the chance to tease him about his hopeless crush, and that was a small price to pay to avoid looking like an idiot in front of said crush.

Tires crunched over some debris at the edge of the run-down parking lot and Patrick squinted into glare of the sunset. He spotted Dave’s worn red pickup rather than Risa’s tiny hybrid and abandoned his lean in favor of straightening up and waving. He regretted it instantly. Why was he waving like an idiot when he was the only other person around? It wasn’t like Dave could possibly have missed him.

Patrick let his arm drop to his side with a heavy sigh as Dave pulled to a stop. Dave had no trouble being cool. His tall combat boots thunked down on the pavement as he hopped out of his truck and gave Patrick a perfect up-nod in greeting. Patrick mangled together a thumbs up and finger guns in response, then topped his greeting off with a weak, “Hey, Dave.”

“How’s tricks, Pat?” Dave pushed his shades up, ruffling a few of the dark curls near his forehead. His lean against his truck was flawless, one hand loose at his side and the other thumb hooked into a belt loop of his spotless black cargos. Patrick felt under-dressed, never mind that jeans and sneakers were exactly what Risa suggested he wear for exploring the abandoned theater.

Ultimately, it was less about the clothes and more about the bodies underneath them. Dave did rock climbing and worked for a landscaping company while Patrick watched too much anime and spent his days behind a desk, and it showed. Despite that, Dave had been chatting with him at parties for at least a month since Risa had introduced them, and he hadn’t even seriously made fun of Patrick once.

-

Read the rest of this story and other tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

[shousetsubangbang]

by shukyou

“What’s the oldest house you still have access to?”

Alex was not exactly a stranger to being chatted up at dive bars, most of the time by ragged, lonely drunks who said he reminded them of their son, or sometimes even of their grandson. He had to admit, though, this was a new one. “Pardon?” he asked. Maybe he hadn’t heard that right. The jukebox was a little loud.

The stranger on the barstool next to him chuckled. “Not the oldest house by age of the house itself. The house you’ve had in your life the longest where, if you knocked on the door, the person on the other side would still recognize you and let you in. For instance, not the house you grew up in, right?”

Right. His mom had sold that over a decade ago, when she’d gotten remarried after the divorce. Alex hadn’t even met the buyers, on account of being eleven years old at the time; he couldn’t imagine what they’d say if he showed up now. “No, that one’s gone,” Alex agreed, nodding.

“So what is it?” asked the stranger, running his knobby-knuckled fingers around the rim of his glass. His fingers were adorned with a number of silver rings, none in the place a wedding ring should be. There was something that looked like whiskey in that glass, though Alex couldn’t swear to it. As drinking went, he’d never had a taste for anything but beer, and even that some days was a tough swallow, pun intended.

Fuck, what was it? His grandparents were dead or had downsized, or both. He wasn’t close with his extended family, who would probably open the door if he explained that he was Pam’s son or Leonard’s boy, depending on the side, but they wouldn’t recognize him, and anyway, he could barely remember anything about their homes, which Alex felt wasn’t what the stranger was asking. Probably some of his childhood friends still lived in the houses he’d known when he’d known them, or at least their parents did, but he hadn’t been back to his hometown in years and couldn’t swear to which. Shit, why was this question so hard to answer?

He remembered on a Christmas card his mom had shown him that past December, one with a recent photo taken in front of a familiar house. “My middle-school girlfriend’s parents’ house,” Alex gave as his final answer. The photo had featured two beaming grandparents and a man who looked to be in his early thirties hovering around the center of the picture, a skinny blonde woman with a toddler on her lap and a baby in her arms, smiling grimly for the camera. Well, she was smiling. The children appeared indifferent.

-

Read the rest of this story and other tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

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Happy Gay Halloween!

While we here at Shousetsu Bang*Bang usually encourage happy endings and warm fuzzy feelings, for our October issue, we let contributors go as heartwarming and/or as horrifying as they like! So if you're looking for something spine-chillingly sexy and terrifyingly queer this Halloween season, check out the short stories and art in the October issues from our back catalog.

Click through to any issue and indulge in some tricks and treats that are smutty, spooky, and absolutely free!

Issue 12: 1001 Tales of Horror | F/F Special 4: Haunted

Issue 33: Myths and Monsters | Issue 39: Sword and Sorcery

Issue 45: Masquerade | Issue 57: Things That Go Bump in the Night

Issue 63: Into the Woods | Issue 69: Bad Moon Rising

Issue 75: The Butler Did It | Issue 81: The Monster at the End of This Book

Issue 87: What Music They Make | Issue 93: Strange Aeons

Issue 99: ‘Til Death Do Us Part | Issue 105: Skin Deep

Like what you read? We ask that you do two things: tell the creators, and tell your friends! Shousetsu Bang*Bang is a 100% volunteer-run project, which means everyone involved gets paid only in words of appreciation from readers -- and also, our advertising budget is $0. Please spread the word and help this 19-year-old webzine of original queer erotic fiction and art keep going strong!

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Spend the spookiest night of the year with Shousetsu Bang*Bang!

Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

cover by 2013

~*~

Through The Woods, Homewards, by Kit Miller

Dead Hung Rigging, by Togi Kayako (土宜草子) *

Sakazuki, by Domashita Romero (地下ロメロ)

Something Else, by shukyou (主教)

Laid to Rest, by juou no zan (女王のザン)

Gentle Giant, by Holden Marrs

Taking Care of It, by Iron Eater *

* illustrated

~*~

Legend says that long time ago, in a long-forgotten age known only as “2005,” a gay little webzine appeared in a small town. No one knew where this gay little webzine had come from or where it was going. The people of that small town only knew that it went by a name so terrifying that the mere sound of it caused milk to spoil in jugs and frost to form on flowers: Shousetsu Bang*Bang.

Every month or two, Shousetsu Bang*Bang would put out a new issue, bringing panic and restless nights to all the townsfolk, who could not sleep on account of the sheer amount of sexy thoughts that gripped their imaginations with each new page turned. Every time a new issue would emerge, the townsfolk would hide in their houses and hold their breaths, waiting to see what erotic delights were coming to haunt their dreams this time. And October always ended … in death.

Even today, people still say that if you stand in front of your computer screen in the dark on the last Monday in October and say the name “Shousetsu Bang*Bang” three times, an issue will appear. And not just any issue, oh no, but a horrifying issue filled with blood-curdling frights that will chill your to your very bones!

(Or, uh, some cute love stories with queer sex and also ghosts. It’s kind of a mixed bag in here.)

Do you dare? Do you dare enter the spooky nightmare realm of the gayest Halloween you’ve ever seen? Then take my hand and stare into your screen. Good? Now repeat after me: Shousetsu Bang*Bang, Shousetsu Bang*Bang, Shousetsu Bang*Bang–

—

(For summaries, creators’ notes, and more, we would usually tell you to see this issue’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki. In the interim, however, please visit the relevant Google Doc of contributor commentary for similar content.)

[shousetsubangbang]

by Domashita Romero

He never thought he’d get old enough for his bones to ache so much. Masao remembered being in his twenties and firmly believing he’d never be the kind of man to groan so much when he moved around. Those noises had become his constant companion more than twenty years ago. Most days it was hard to remember he’d been a young man once, and most days he didn’t try. Some days were different.

Masao’s knees ached when he knelt down to light the incense, and his fingers creaked when he opened the bottle of sake. He poured two cups and sighed over his. “Another year,” he said, and the sound of his own voice in his ears felt like pushing stone over gravel. He raised his cup, and then did his best to smooth away that roughness with a drink.

He never bought the good stuff for this, because he and Akito had never drunk the good stuff together. Their nights were canned beer and cup sake, drunk on streets and rooftops, drunk in Masao’s wreck of a one-room apartment. Masao had a house now and he kept it respectable, with a rack of finer drinks if someone important happened to call on him. 

“Next year,” Masao said with another sip. “We’ll have something good next year.” He’d have a headache in the morning, but that’d follow him regardless of alcohol quality. He sighed and leaned back on one arm, watching the incense smoke curl up into the air. There would be a next year, he could feel in his bones as much as he could feel rain coming overnight. He wasn’t sure when that had stopped surprising him.

It hadn’t been a night like this when Akito died, humid with a last gasp of summer rising up during autumn. It’d been colder than it should have been at this time of year, cold enough that Masao could see it when Akito’s last breath left him, cold enough that the blood on Masao’s hands from where he’d tried to stop the bleeding grew thick and tacky almost instantly. The balmy nights like these had been for better things.

“Ah, was it ’82 or ’83?” Masao said, his voice clearing with every word. He hadn’t spoken aloud that day, he realized; he hadn’t had a cause to. Some boys from the family would come check in on the old boss every so often, usually asking for some kind of advice, but Masao had a feeling they just wanted to make sure he was still kicking. Masao could imagine sometimes they missed him. “It was ’83, I remember now. Some punks from the Yanagiba family trying to start shit, but we…” He thumped his knee with his fist a little, smiling at the memory of being side by side with Akito, throwing fists. “Worked up a real sweat. Not as much as the Yanagiba boys, though, heh.”

-

Read the rest of this story and other tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

[shousetsubangbang]

by 2013

-

Read more tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

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by Iron Eater

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, thick and warm despite the early autumn’s chill, and as Jack’s favorite old record player scratched its way from song to song he knew he wanted to be nowhere else. He and Billy—and if there was one man in the world who needed no introduction, it was Billy—spun with each other in their modest living room like the maple whirligigs that twirled past the window glass. That was why they’d moved out here: There was enough elbow room to be a queer without having to store it all inside a little box most of the week.

Maybe it wasn’t as fancy as the big city, and there sure weren’t as many bars, gay or otherwise, but Jack had never been much for the night life, not once everywhere had swapped out the intimate locales for places full up of too-loud thumping music and too-close bodies and too-harsh drugs he just couldn’t get a taste for no matter how much he tried. The more his old haunts filled up with clones, the more it felt like Jack was sinking into quicksand. Out here he could think. Out here Billy’s fancy new job could buy a hell of a lot more house, too, and Jack’s part-time gig at the town’s only record store was more for giving his days structure than keeping the lights on. He had time enough for his art now that he wasn’t chasing half a dozen newly overdue bills every week. He had time enough to ride his motorcycle, and a spot in the garage to keep it. It was an honest-to-God good thing they had here. Like many good things in his life, Jack owed it all to trusting Billy.

Back when they’d first hooked up their friends had given them a month, maybe two at most. Some said Jack was no more than a novelty, a big man for reedy little Billy to ogle but nothing meant to last, while others said Billy was too twitchy and controlling for anyone to stand for long. Most of those people had since broken up and repaired who knew how many times, but not Jack and Billy, especially if you didn’t count all the time they’d been a thing but not an exclusive thing. They’d been whittling down outside partners well before Billy had started looking at houses. Maybe that meant they were getting old. Jack didn’t mind the thought of growing old together with someone who liked him back. It sure as shit beat relying on his blood relations.

Something pulled at the drapes—couldn’t have been Billy, Billy was busy dancing to Bonnie Raitt and letting Jack lead like usual—and the light changed. The amber coziness of the living room was gone, now replaced by knives of cold winter sun gouging into the room’s darkness; it was so bright outside he could only see vague shapes on the other side of the glass. Jack’s head swam. He was lying down now, not on the old sofa that was supposed to be there but in some kind of hospital bed, and his body felt all wrong, refusing to move when he told it to and making him groan in frustration. It was like the time he’d been drugged up at the dentist’s. Was he in a hospital, then? Jack had plenty of reasons he might’ve ended up in one even if he wasn’t on the front lines anymore, so that might be it. At least whatever they’d pumped into him was keeping the pain away.

-

Read the rest of this story and other tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

[shousetsubangbang]

by Holden Marrs

Charles was a sinner, not a saint. Did that mean he was a bad person? He tried to do good – he tried to be good – but sometimes his thoughts were so dark, so violent. Ever since he was a young adult, he’d been in and out of therapy as he could afford it, with most of his sessions focusing on his abusive father and his military experiences. They’d given him a myriad of medications, ranging from helpful to placebic, and he could never afford to stay on any of them on his own; certainly not without being provided samples by his doctors. On his income, it often came down to rent or doctors; food or medication. And the thoughts weren’t constant, nor were they usually that bad. They were intrusive and he could usually brush them off, but when they were bad, they were horrible. They became forceful, and loud inside his mind, filling up his skull with their demands. They told him to hurt people, people he didn’t like; sometimes even people he did like.

Throughout the years he’d had many relationships, both romantic and not, that had failed quite spectacularly. Despite his thoughts and his male role models, he’d never gotten physical. He’d just always pushed people away, most of the time before they’d even gotten to know him well enough to determine it was worth trying to stick around. His own family didn’t invite him to the holidays anymore. He was unnaturally and unapproachably large, and he’d stopped trying to make human contact long ago. Most people tended to simply avoid him and his cloud.

And then he met John.

One day, inside a local grocery store, Charles was picking up more soup so he’d have dinner for the week when he heard someone behind him ask him if he knew where something was. He couldn’t remember the something, all he could remember was being unreasonably angry that some stranger was talking to him. He was oftentimes unreasonably angry though and had learned to cope with it through his therapies. When he turned around and confronted the stranger, informing him that he did not, in fact, work there, he was met with an unusually sincere and heartfelt apology. The man told him that since he was wearing a red polo, he had thought Charles was an employee. It was Charles’ first time into this particular store, and he told the man as much, before telling him he thought he’d seen some of whatever the man was looking for down one of the other aisles. The man thanked him and backed his cart out, walking off to find… whatever it was he was looking for in the first place.

“You handled that really well.”

-

Read the rest of this story and other tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

[shousetsubangbang]

by juou no zan

“Okay,” Ding said, finally looking up from the collection of notes they’d gathered. “The good news is, I’m pretty sure doing the village’s ritual will work to calm down the spirits here. I don’t know how long it will last, but at least a year.”

“How is that good news?” Heibi demanded from the door. This room only had one exit and no windows, so warding the door had created a temporarily safe space for them to regroup, but the spirits of villagers who routinely performed magic in life seemed to be pretty damn good at breaking through the wards Ding and Heibi had been taught, in addition to being pissed off about the existence of them. While Ding went through everything they’d learned about the village, Heibi stood by the door watching the boundary line for any hint of disturbance. Now, Heibi turned to look at Ding. “I didn’t take this deal just to die for some temporary appeasement ritual. And I’m not killing you, so don’t volunteer. I’m not about to become a murderer for real.”

“I don’t think it counts as murder if it’s for a sacrifice,” Ding said. “I mean, if I agreed to it.”

Heibi rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’m not about to become a killer for real, is that better? You fucking pedant?”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway,” Ding said, waving one hand in the air dismissively. “I meant the other ritual.”

Heibi stared at him. “The sex ritual,” he said flatly.

“I know it wouldn’t be your first choice,” Ding said, like this was a reasonable option and not fucking on an outdoor altar in the midst of a spiritual maelstrom, “but it’s better than one of us dying. One of your wards can hold up long enough to get us started, at least. I’m sure once we’re in the middle of things, so to speak, they won’t be trying as hard to break through our defenses.”

“That sounds logical enough,” Heibi said. In fact, it was insane, but it wasn’t like they had actual reasonable options anymore. Fucking Bureau. He went on, “There’s just one problem: it won’t work.”

-

Read the rest of this story and other tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

[shousetsubangbang]

by shukyou

“What’s the oldest house you still have access to?”

Alex was not exactly a stranger to being chatted up at dive bars, most of the time by ragged, lonely drunks who said he reminded them of their son, or sometimes even of their grandson. He had to admit, though, this was a new one. “Pardon?” he asked. Maybe he hadn’t heard that right. The jukebox was a little loud.

The stranger on the barstool next to him chuckled. “Not the oldest house by age of the house itself. The house you’ve had in your life the longest where, if you knocked on the door, the person on the other side would still recognize you and let you in. For instance, not the house you grew up in, right?”

Right. His mom had sold that over a decade ago, when she’d gotten remarried after the divorce. Alex hadn’t even met the buyers, on account of being eleven years old at the time; he couldn’t imagine what they’d say if he showed up now. “No, that one’s gone,” Alex agreed, nodding.

“So what is it?” asked the stranger, running his knobby-knuckled fingers around the rim of his glass. His fingers were adorned with a number of silver rings, none in the place a wedding ring should be. There was something that looked like whiskey in that glass, though Alex couldn’t swear to it. As drinking went, he’d never had a taste for anything but beer, and even that some days was a tough swallow, pun intended.

Fuck, what was it? His grandparents were dead or had downsized, or both. He wasn’t close with his extended family, who would probably open the door if he explained that he was Pam’s son or Leonard’s boy, depending on the side, but they wouldn’t recognize him, and anyway, he could barely remember anything about their homes, which Alex felt wasn’t what the stranger was asking. Probably some of his childhood friends still lived in the houses he’d known when he’d known them, or at least their parents did, but he hadn’t been back to his hometown in years and couldn’t swear to which. Shit, why was this question so hard to answer?

He remembered on a Christmas card his mom had shown him that past December, one with a recent photo taken in front of a familiar house. “My middle-school girlfriend’s parents’ house,” Alex gave as his final answer. The photo had featured two beaming grandparents and a man who looked to be in his early thirties hovering around the center of the picture, a skinny blonde woman with a toddler on her lap and a baby in her arms, smiling grimly for the camera. Well, she was smiling. The children appeared indifferent.

-

Read the rest of this story and other tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

[shousetsubangbang]

by Domashita Romero

He never thought he’d get old enough for his bones to ache so much. Masao remembered being in his twenties and firmly believing he’d never be the kind of man to groan so much when he moved around. Those noises had become his constant companion more than twenty years ago. Most days it was hard to remember he’d been a young man once, and most days he didn’t try. Some days were different.

Masao’s knees ached when he knelt down to light the incense, and his fingers creaked when he opened the bottle of sake. He poured two cups and sighed over his. “Another year,” he said, and the sound of his own voice in his ears felt like pushing stone over gravel. He raised his cup, and then did his best to smooth away that roughness with a drink.

He never bought the good stuff for this, because he and Akito had never drunk the good stuff together. Their nights were canned beer and cup sake, drunk on streets and rooftops, drunk in Masao’s wreck of a one-room apartment. Masao had a house now and he kept it respectable, with a rack of finer drinks if someone important happened to call on him. 

“Next year,” Masao said with another sip. “We’ll have something good next year.” He’d have a headache in the morning, but that’d follow him regardless of alcohol quality. He sighed and leaned back on one arm, watching the incense smoke curl up into the air. There would be a next year, he could feel in his bones as much as he could feel rain coming overnight. He wasn’t sure when that had stopped surprising him.

It hadn’t been a night like this when Akito died, humid with a last gasp of summer rising up during autumn. It’d been colder than it should have been at this time of year, cold enough that Masao could see it when Akito’s last breath left him, cold enough that the blood on Masao’s hands from where he’d tried to stop the bleeding grew thick and tacky almost instantly. The balmy nights like these had been for better things.

“Ah, was it ’82 or ’83?” Masao said, his voice clearing with every word. He hadn’t spoken aloud that day, he realized; he hadn’t had a cause to. Some boys from the family would come check in on the old boss every so often, usually asking for some kind of advice, but Masao had a feeling they just wanted to make sure he was still kicking. Masao could imagine sometimes they missed him. “It was ’83, I remember now. Some punks from the Yanagiba family trying to start shit, but we…” He thumped his knee with his fist a little, smiling at the memory of being side by side with Akito, throwing fists. “Worked up a real sweat. Not as much as the Yanagiba boys, though, heh.”

-

Read the rest of this story and other tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

[shousetsubangbang]

by Togi Kayako

Patrick switched the foot he had braced against his car and prayed with all his might that he looked even a little cool. With any luck, Risa would arrive before Dave. If Patrick was posing too obviously, she’d leap at the chance to tease him about his hopeless crush, and that was a small price to pay to avoid looking like an idiot in front of said crush.

Tires crunched over some debris at the edge of the run-down parking lot and Patrick squinted into glare of the sunset. He spotted Dave’s worn red pickup rather than Risa’s tiny hybrid and abandoned his lean in favor of straightening up and waving. He regretted it instantly. Why was he waving like an idiot when he was the only other person around? It wasn’t like Dave could possibly have missed him.

Patrick let his arm drop to his side with a heavy sigh as Dave pulled to a stop. Dave had no trouble being cool. His tall combat boots thunked down on the pavement as he hopped out of his truck and gave Patrick a perfect up-nod in greeting. Patrick mangled together a thumbs up and finger guns in response, then topped his greeting off with a weak, “Hey, Dave.”

“How’s tricks, Pat?” Dave pushed his shades up, ruffling a few of the dark curls near his forehead. His lean against his truck was flawless, one hand loose at his side and the other thumb hooked into a belt loop of his spotless black cargos. Patrick felt under-dressed, never mind that jeans and sneakers were exactly what Risa suggested he wear for exploring the abandoned theater.

Ultimately, it was less about the clothes and more about the bodies underneath them. Dave did rock climbing and worked for a landscaping company while Patrick watched too much anime and spent his days behind a desk, and it showed. Despite that, Dave had been chatting with him at parties for at least a month since Risa had introduced them, and he hadn’t even seriously made fun of Patrick once.

-

Read the rest of this story and other tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

[shousetsubangbang]

by Kit Miller

It was a truly magnificent fox. Its fur was silken and shone even in the fading twilight. Its ears, the backs of them night black, were pricked as it listened out for the faintest rustle of mice, ready, any moment, to pounce. Reinhardt breathed in, and let the arrow fly. The fox yelped as it bored into its flank. It worried at the shaft, but moments later, it went limp. A quick and clean kill. Reinhardt hefted his bow and went to the fox. His back cracked and creaked when he bent over to pick it up. He wasn’t fifty quite yet, but the years had not been kind to him. His face was furrowed like the bark of an oak. His hair, in his youth as red as this very fox’s fur, had faded with time to a dull ochre with only a hint of a rusty tinge left in it. 

The bow over one shoulder, the fox over the other, and the arrow removed, cleaned, and returned to the quiver at his hip, Reinhardt started back towards home. The new moon was a hole in the fabric of the darkening night sky. It was getting harder to see with every passing moment. Reinhardt swallowed against the rising tide of his panic. Today’s prowl had taken him further into the woods than he had wanted to go, and in more time than he could spare. The days when he could run for miles without pause were long behind him. His mind conjured up monsters and demons, turning gnarled branches into snarling dragons. Any snag on his clothes set his heart into a frantic, stumbling gallop, and for a moment, he would be convinced it was hands grabbing him and holding him and dragging him off to Hell. 

He tripped over a root. The arrows in his quiver rattled and the fox slipped; he could catch it just in time before it fell off. For a moment, Reinhardt had to stand still, just holding onto the fox with one hand and his bow with the other. This wasn’t working. He knelt down and laid the fox on the ground for now. With trembling fingers, he reached for the lantern he always carried on his belt in spite of how awkward it was to have on a hunt. He cursed when he opened his tinderbox and realised he only had a couple of splints left, and very little tinder. This was just enough to light the lantern; if it were to go out and he needed to light it again, it was going to be almost impossible. Regardless, he lit his lantern. He’d have to be careful not to let it go out. He lifted it high, as high as he could, the other arm clutching the fox, back on his shoulder. The trees surrounding him twitched in the flickering light. He imagined he saw horses burst forth between them.

It had been tonight, thirty-one years ago to the day, that Herne had been caught and taken from Reinhardt forever. All Herne had left behind was a cold, hard nugget in Reinhardt’s heart, a nugget of fear, and grief, and regret, and guilt. Nobody had ever forgiven him that of the two hunters that had gone into the woods that night, only Reinhardt had come out. Least of all himself. Herne had always been the better hunter, and the village mourned his loss to this day. They cursed Reinhardt for a coward. He’d tried to explain what had happened, but not a one had believed him. Slowly, over the decades, he had started to disbelieve himself. It was only rarely, now, that he held the truth in his hands, looked at it, and didn’t doubt it.

-

Read the rest of this story and other tales of sexy queer romance in the full issue at Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

[shousetsubangbang]

Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

cover by 2013

~*~

Through The Woods, Homewards, by Kit Miller

Dead Hung Rigging, by Togi Kayako (土宜草子) *

Sakazuki, by Domashita Romero (地下ロメロ)

Something Else, by shukyou (主教)

Laid to Rest, by juou no zan (女王のザン)

Gentle Giant, by Holden Marrs

Taking Care of It, by Iron Eater *

* illustrated

~*~

Legend says that long time ago, in a long-forgotten age known only as “2005,” a gay little webzine appeared in a small town. No one knew where this gay little webzine had come from or where it was going. The people of that small town only knew that it went by a name so terrifying that the mere sound of it caused milk to spoil in jugs and frost to form on flowers: Shousetsu Bang*Bang.

Every month or two, Shousetsu Bang*Bang would put out a new issue, bringing panic and restless nights to all the townsfolk, who could not sleep on account of the sheer amount of sexy thoughts that gripped their imaginations with each new page turned. Every time a new issue would emerge, the townsfolk would hide in their houses and hold their breaths, waiting to see what erotic delights were coming to haunt their dreams this time. And October always ended … in death.

Even today, people still say that if you stand in front of your computer screen in the dark on the last Monday in October and say the name “Shousetsu Bang*Bang” three times, an issue will appear. And not just any issue, oh no, but a horrifying issue filled with blood-curdling frights that will chill your to your very bones!

(Or, uh, some cute love stories with queer sex and also ghosts. It’s kind of a mixed bag in here.)

Do you dare? Do you dare enter the spooky nightmare realm of the gayest Halloween you’ve ever seen? Then take my hand and stare into your screen. Good? Now repeat after me: Shousetsu Bang*Bang, Shousetsu Bang*Bang, Shousetsu Bang*Bang–

—

(For summaries, creators’ notes, and more, we would usually tell you to see this issue’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki. In the interim, however, please visit the relevant Google Doc of contributor commentary for similar content.)

[shousetsubangbang]

Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 111: Hauntology

cover by 2013

~*~

Through The Woods, Homewards, by Kit Miller

Dead Hung Rigging, by Togi Kayako (土宜草子) *

Sakazuki, by Domashita Romero (地下ロメロ)

Something Else, by shukyou (主教)

Laid to Rest, by juou no zan (女王のザン)

Gentle Giant, by Holden Marrs

Taking Care of It, by Iron Eater *

* illustrated

~*~

Legend says that long time ago, in a long-forgotten age known only as “2005,” a gay little webzine appeared in a small town. No one knew where this gay little webzine had come from or where it was going. The people of that small town only knew that it went by a name so terrifying that the mere sound of it caused milk to spoil in jugs and frost to form on flowers: Shousetsu Bang*Bang.

Every month or two, Shousetsu Bang*Bang would put out a new issue, bringing panic and restless nights to all the townsfolk, who could not sleep on account of the sheer amount of sexy thoughts that gripped their imaginations with each new page turned. Every time a new issue would emerge, the townsfolk would hide in their houses and hold their breaths, waiting to see what erotic delights were coming to haunt their dreams this time. And October always ended … in death.

Even today, people still say that if you stand in front of your computer screen in the dark on the last Monday in October and say the name “Shousetsu Bang*Bang” three times, an issue will appear. And not just any issue, oh no, but a horrifying issue filled with blood-curdling frights that will chill your to your very bones!

(Or, uh, some cute love stories with queer sex and also ghosts. It’s kind of a mixed bag in here.)

Do you dare? Do you dare enter the spooky nightmare realm of the gayest Halloween you’ve ever seen? Then take my hand and stare into your screen. Good? Now repeat after me: Shousetsu Bang*Bang, Shousetsu Bang*Bang, Shousetsu Bang*Bang–

—

(For summaries, creators’ notes, and more, we would usually tell you to see this issue’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki. In the interim, however, please visit the relevant Google Doc of contributor commentary for similar content.)