A New Weird Horror novelette out now with Tenebrous Press,
as part of SPLIT SCREAM series
“Complementary tales that embrace the grit and grime of soured familial relationships in ominous ways, while still standing strongly on their own. A disturbingly fun read…with genuinely creepy scares and pulp horror sensibilities.”
—Library Journal
“Having read and championed a large amount of his work, I can firmly state that Ryan T. Jenkins doesn’t think like other people. I’m baffled by his observations. I’m laughing, wincing, cringing, and thinking what the hell is this guy talking about. But then I’m getting misty eyed at the emotional bass drop.”
—Alex Gonzalez, author of rekt and cofounder of the horror zine youarenotalone.
“Just when you think you’ve seen it all, Come to Daddy packs a sucker punch of the strange. Melding the bizarre and the banal through uneasy humor and unreal horror, nobody else is doing what Ryan T. Jenkins is doing—and thank goodness!”
—Gordon B. White, finalist for the Bram Stoker and Shirley Jackson Awards, and author of Rookfield
Distilled from the classic Gothic haunted house narrative comes a twisted ode to punk rock and fatherhood.
A forty-four-year-old man endeavors to put the pieces back together after his wife of eighteen years divorces him and his son vows to never to speak to him again. He starts by purchasing a new house, where he strives to reignite his life anew by becoming a better human being.
But his isolation leaves him to confront the dark confines of his shadowy mind when he encounters a haunted movie poster, left by the previous owners of the house, of a B-list actor coming to life before his eyes. To top off the creep factor, the actor in the poster has an uncanny resemblance to his son.
The strange becomes bizarre when he begins reliving a childhood nightmare of the Claw—his dead mother’s well-manicured hand—scuttling around at night, and then he hears a grizzly voice speaking to him, his grandpaps egging him on to take the pain of his punishments.
All he can do now is crank the punk music of his youth the highest it can go, face what’s lurking in his house, and reckon with the shards of his own past destruction.