Joni Chng is a horror author with many of her stories appearing in various anthologies.
Can you talk about your latest book or story and what readers might find appealing about it?
I’ll just recommend my three latest published short stories: Becoming the Deathless, published in the Into the Dread Unknown anthology in 2025, if you love Slavic mythology. This is a villain origin story sort of retelling of how Koschei the Deathless attained his immortality. It’s the first retelling I ever did, and I had fun with it.
Next, check out my first fantasy story published, Moonlight City of the Hidden Ones in A Spoonful of Malaysian Magic by Malaysian indie publisher, Teaspoon Publishing. It has extensive world building that will be explored in my future work.
My third recommendation is Faceless Portraits in The Big Book of Malaysian Horror Stories. I thought I invented a phobia for my protagonist when I wrote this story in the midst of the pandemic lockdown. It was only when I was giving this recommendation that I learned from a quick Google search of “fear of faceless people” about masklophobia – an irrational fear of people with hidden, obscure and absent faces, often rooted in an inability to read emotions, creating feelings of uncertainty and danger. I’m proud to say I was quite on point with my main character, but there’s more to his avoidant personality and masklophobia in the story. This anthology was published in 2022, with my story being one of 20 (but the illustration for my story is the cover art). If you want to explore horror beyond western media, I highly recommend it.
What’s a book you can’t stop recommending?
Misery by Stephen King. It’s technically and conceptually brilliant and a good introductory book for those getting into King’s work and horror fiction in general. It was my first King book. It is a must-read for aspiring writers looking to improve their craft. The first few pages that introduce us to the protagonist and his predicament are so masterfully written that you can feel a sort of phantom pain from the descriptive prose alone.
It also shows that horror can come in so many forms that it needn’t have a ghost or serial killer.
Can you explain your writing process? What inspires you?
I tend to work within my own pocket universe, which I continue to build and expand with each story I write. This fictional universe of mine is an alternative to our current reality; there is magic, there are mythical and divine beings, and weird science. Every time I start a new project, whether it’s a book or short story, I go into this universe and see what kind of stories can be told from there, with its laws are at play. So, with a very few exceptions, if you see any of my stories published in anthologies and journals, know that they all take place in the same universe.
Inspiration comes to me everywhere, really. Culture, history, myths, folklore, the latest scientific discovery, from observation, even something mentioned in passing in a conversation or a comment under a social media post can spark an idea. You can’t be a good storyteller without a curiosity and a certain love for the pursuit of knowledge. Every rabbit hole I ventured down is a potential building block for my universe.
Is there a snack or drink that gets you into a writing mindset?
Usually just morning coffee before I start working. I make it a point to not eat while I work; it’s not a good habit conducive to focus, not to mention having food around your workspace can be a messy disaster waiting to happen. What if you get crumbs in your keyboard or worse, spill something over your work? So, yeah…not recommended.
Are there any horror tropes you especially love in books or films?
I have a special love for religious horror or holiday horror (that is not Halloween), just about anything that juxtaposes a happy occasion with something dreadful and morbid. There’s something so undeniably unsettling about finding a deeper darkness behind what’s supposed to be sacred, holy and joyful. And once you see it, you cannot un-see it.
My particularly favorite is something called the “clashing of red and white” often done in Chinese language media. In Chinese, a “red affair” refers to auspicious, happy events associated with celebration, usually weddings, with red being an auspicious color. Meanwhile, white is the color of mourning. A “white affair” refers to sombre events associated with death. So, the ghost bride is a common trope. There’s also a belief in Chinese culture that if a person is killed dressed in red, the spirit will return to seek revenge. What would make for a more wrathful spirit than being killed on one’s wedding day, right?
Visually, with the traditional Chinese wedding procession, the bride is carried to her husband’s house seated inside a box-like sedan chair. It’s not that different from a funeral procession with the deceased being carried in a coffin (essentially another box). When you think about it, a wedding is symbolically a woman’s funeral, where her identity and personhood dissolves.
Who’s your favorite final girl?
I have a few, but for now, the one I can think of is Margot, in the movie, The Menu, played by Anya Taylor-Joy. She survives because of her empathy for the villain and quick-thinking.
Are you currently working on anything new?
I’m currently on the last leg of revisions for my first novel and hoping to start shopping for a publisher by mid-2026. It is an urban fantasy, set in Malaysia where I live. It will be the first book in a series of standalone but interconnected novels set in the same universe. It has fae folks, Chinese Gods, Hindu Gods and vampires walking among humans. That’s all I’ll say about it without giving away too much.
For a taste of this corner of my universe, read my aforementioned short story, Moonlight City of the Hidden Ones.
You can find more of Joni’s writing here: jonichng.substack.com
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
Pascale Potvin is a bit of a triple threat, author, filmmaker, and actress.
Can you talk about your latest book and what readers might find appealing about it?
Game Over Books recently published Demondust, or On Wanting and Killing Men, my short story collection that I guess is self explanatory—the demon that is loving men and the dust that is killing them. But the book is not just about those things. In general, they’re stories for people who like quieter, interior, self-inflicted horrors of any gender/kind. In a context where thought is the ultimate masochism, the horror skews abstract and unreliable, in itself, as a means of getting into your head if you’ll let me.
What’s a book you can’t stop recommending?
Lolita is one of the best works of literary horror—change my mind…
Can you explain your writing process? What inspires you?
My process can be all over the place, also depending on what genre or form I’m working with. Before I was medicated, horror was my saving grace and a cathartic means of ‘fictionalizing’ things that were too real. More so then, but even now, my writing sparks the most at night when my inhibitions are lowered. Across genres, a lot of it starts with a big existential or metaphysical question (which horror just lets me answer in the most deranged way available.)
Is there a snack or drink that gets you into a writing mindset?
Honestly, wine, but the problem is it’s also an easy road to losing focus. So I actually really like non-alcoholic white wine for that purpose (the *vibes*).
Are there any horror tropes you especially love in books or films?
I love an unstable body. Possessed, transformed, decaying, etc. We could write a million original stories from that trope—and we will—because it’s a terror so inherent to us. Even more than that, I love an unstable reality: my favourite type of book or movie is probably the kind where I have to go and Google “___ ending explained” and can lie there reading reddit threads of speculation before bed.
Who’s your favorite final girl?
Good question. Maybe Maxine from X!
Are you currently working on anything new?
Yes, a lot of little things and a new screenplay. I’ve co-written a book of autofictional/experimental erotic horror that has been ready to go for a while now. The working title is Gasps That Seduced Even Ghosts as They Flew By. One of its main pieces is coming soon in an anthology titled SMUT, so I hope to get to share more about it then.
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
Renee Thomasin is a writer of 90s/Y2K nostalgic horror. She has written Pixel Pefect and Best Friends Forever.
Can you talk about your latest book and what readers might find appealing about it?
My most recent short story is called “Pixel Perfect,” and it’s my commentary on the dangers that existed in online diet culture spaces. This story appeals to readers who remember that time period firsthand or those who want a peak into the dark side of y2k and body horror.
What’s a book you can’t stop recommending?
Can I list more than one? I have been recommending The Blueprint by Rae Giana Rashad and The Possession of Alba Diaz by Isabel Canas.
Can you explain your writing process? What inspires you?
I am very much a “shiny new idea” person, so I’m always jotting down ideas for different stories. This can deter me from current works in progress, but it’s just how my mind works. I find inspiration and ideas flow when I’m driving or on a walk. As a full-time teacher, I have to force myself to get into a creative flow, which can be a challenge when your cup is empty at the end of the day. I always start in a notebook and sometimes find it difficult for my ideas to flow when it’s just me and a keyboard. I find inspiration in the world around me and always have some sort of mood playlist where I let my imagination take over.
Is there a snack or drink that gets you into a writing mindset?
I typically like some sort of latte, hot or iced depending on my mood, my water bottle with pink lemonade electrolytes, and something bubbly like a ginger ale. I’m somewhat of a drink goblin, haha. But coffee definitely sets the mood!
Are there any horror tropes you especially love in books or films?
I enjoy some body horror and gothic elements and always enjoy a vampire retelling. I’m also drawn to grief and nostalgic horror.
Who’s your favorite final girl?
Janelle Monae’s character, Veronica/Eden, in Antebellum is a powerful final girl. I’ve also been drawn to movie Wendy Torrance as well.
Are you currently working on anything new?
Yes, I am working on a reimagining of The Stepford Wives but as dark, pink academia, as well as a 90s YA horror novel.
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
Claire L. Smith is a gothic author who delves into the haunting depths of love and life’s darker moments.
Can you talk about your latest book and what readers might find appealing about it?
My most recent release is the rerelease of my YA horror novella, WHEN WE ENTERED THAT HOUSE. Lovers of haunted house stories, gothic horror and queer coming-of-age narratives will be all over this.
Here’s the back cover copy for those who are interested: Best friends Zoe and Elle share a secret. Every day after school, they sneak into the ominous woods surrounding their small town. The isolation of the remote wilderness shelters them from the chaos at home, but it also brings dangers of its own.
Something wicked watches the girls from a rotting Victorian mansion. Zoe and Elle will soon discover the mansion’s decaying walls hide centuries-old secrets and a family whose bloodline is stained with violence and insanity.
In order to escape, the girls’ friendship and inner strength will be tested. The house’s clutches are strong, and both friends will be caught in a struggle they may not be able to win.
What’s a book you can’t stop recommending?
I really loved Victorian Psycho by Virginia Feito. I’m such a sucker for the horrors of the Victorian Era and I loved how much of it was crammed into this little book. The narrative was also morbidly funny in the best possible way. It made the horrid things that the FMC does more enjoyable to read as she is the definition of chaotic. I struggle to recommend it though because it may understandably be a bit too much for a lot of people but I love it all the same.
Can you explain your writing process? What inspires you?
I’m a big planner. I like to have at least 50% of an outline done before I properly start writing. I normally intentionally leave the ending unplanned just because I usually come up with the best idea for the ending after I’ve spent a good amount of time with the story itself. Visuals are very inspiring to me, which is why I’m obsessed with making boards for my WIPs on Pinterest. It’s a great way to come up with ideas by looking at a cool photograph or peice of art and making up a story from what I see.
Is there a snack or drink that gets you into a writing mindset?
I love herbal teas, matcha or chai lattes. Or when I’m feeling chaotic, a Monster Energy drink (Aussie Lemonade Flavor).
Are there any horror tropes you especially love in books or films?
I really love when the setting/scenery becomes a character or at the very least important to the plot. I love settings that feel alive in their own way, like they could work with or against the MC.
Who’s your favorite final girl?
I loved Joey (Melissa Barrera) in Abigail (2024). I don’t think she’s talked about enough as her character is very complex, flawed but also likable. I love characters in horror movies who go in being flawed and/or afraid of something other than the monster chasing them but by the end, they survive and get a new lease on life (even if they got it the hard way haha).
Are you currently working on anything new?
I’m currently working on an Australian Gothic novel based in the Blue Mountains (NSW). It’s taking a bit longer to outline than expected so I’m also working on a fantasy / horror book loosely inspired by Slavic folklore that I’m hoping to make into a trilogy.
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
Holly Knightley is a compelling horror writer, known for crafting dark, gripping tales that always deliver unexpected, sinister twists.
Can you talk about your latest book and what readers might find appealing about it?
My short story, Piggy, just came out on Feb 15th! It was an average day when Alley Faye found a five-dollar bill on the ground with a message: Here piggy, piggy, piggy. Greed is a sin, and you just let me in. This quick 38-page read will keep readers on their toes until the last page. This story has true crime vibes with a stalker who has a thing for the story of ‘The Three Little Pigs.’
What’s a book you can’t stop recommending?
We are talking women in horror, and I would be remiss not to say ‘Frankenstein’ by Mary Shelley. It is one of my favorite books, if not my favorite. Shelley explores themes of morality while giving her readers one amazing monster story where who is the ‘real’ monster is always in question. There is a reason this story still haunts readers today, it is simply brilliant.
Can you explain your writing process? What inspires you?
Most of my stories are inspired by my real-life experiences or moments that have made me pause. You know, that feeling that you get when something unsettles you? I explore why things make me feel the way I do, often using the supernatural to tell the story. My process usually goes the same. Something makes me pause to think and my brain whispers the story to me. If I have the time, I will outline the entire story the moment it pops into my head. If not, I will at least get down the vibe and characters and come back to it later.
Is there a snack or drink that gets you into a writing mindset?
Coke Zero. I am totally addicted to it and can’t start my day without it. I have a can in the morning, sometimes two—that’s when I know it’s going to be a good writing day.
Are there any horror tropes you especially love in books or films?
I love the haunted house trope. Nothing scares me more than a haunted house. When I was a child, I always thought: Just leave. As an adult, I realize you can’t just leave, which has made this trope and genre scarier for me. Throw in an unreliable narrator and buried secrets, and I’m hooked.
Who’s your favorite final girl?
This is a hard question, there are so many great final girls, but I am going with Ellen Ripley, Sigourney Weaver’s character from ‘Alien’. She’s badass and hot as Hell.
Are you currently working on anything new?
Yes, I have a new haunted house mystery thriller coming out July 16th entitled Cadbury House. This is such a fun mashup between the haunted house trope and haunted object trope. The story is pure chaos, in the very best way, and I can’t wait for it to be read!
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
Not to die, but to save—seeking cures for those everyone else has given up on.
But a summons from the King interrupts her quiet, herb-obsessed life. His daughter, Snow, is dying, and he hopes Anja’s unorthodox methods can save her.
Aided by a taciturn guard, a narcissistic cat, and a passion for the scientific method, Anja rushes to treat Snow, but nothing seems to work. That is, until she finds a secret world, hidden inside a magic mirror. This dark realm may hold the key to what is making Snow sick.
Or it might be the thing that kills them all.
GRADE: C
REVIEW:
I’m not usually a fan of fantasy, but I’ve enjoyed every T. Kingfisher book I’ve read so far, so I decided to give this one a try. It also helped that it was marketed as a Snow White retelling—and I’m a total sucker for fairytale retellings.
The good: Some readers felt the protagonist, Anja, had too much internal monologue, but I didn’t mind it at all. I found her engaging, and it never felt annoying to me. I also absolutely loved the character of Grayling, who easily became a standout.
The not-so-good: Action-wise, it felt like not much really happened. The mystery surrounding the king’s daughter’s illness wasn’t especially compelling, and I couldn’t help feeling there was a lot of missed potential—particularly when it came to the mirror realm, which could have been explored much more deeply.
Overall: I really enjoyed Jennifer Pickens’ narration of the audiobook, and I think her performance helped make the story feel more engaging than it might have otherwise. Still, from a plot standpoint, the book didn’t quite live up to my expectations.
*Thank you so much to NetGalley & MacMillan Audio for the audiobook copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
If your “to be read” pile is slowly taking over your nightstand, desk, and every flat surface in your home, it might be time for a TBR book cart. Not only is it a practical way to organize your next reads, but it also turns your books into a little reading experience—one that feels intentional, aesthetic, and motivating instead of overwhelming.
Here’s how to start a TBR book cart and make it something you’re excited to use.
1. Choose Your Cart (Style Over Perfection)
First things first: you need a cart. A three-tier rolling cart is the classic choice, but anything with shelves works—bar carts, small bookcases, or even a sturdy crate setup. Don’t stress about finding the “perfect” one. The goal is function and fun, not Pinterest pressure.
Pick something that fits your space and your vibe. Minimalist? Go neutral. Maximalist reader? Bright colors, please.
2. Curate, Don’t Overload
The secret to a successful TBR cart is curation. Instead of dumping every unread book you own onto it, choose a manageable number you’re genuinely excited about. Think of your cart as your current reading season, not your entire backlog.
A good rule of thumb:
5–10 novels
1–2 non-fiction books
1 “mood read” wildcard
This keeps your cart inspiring rather than intimidating.
3. Organize by Vibes
This is where the fun really starts. Instead of organizing by author or genre, try organizing by mood:
Cozy reads
Dark academia
Short and fast-paced
Emotional damage (you know the ones)
You can also dedicate each tier to a theme or reading goal. It turns choosing your next book into a mini ritual instead of a stressful decision.
4. Add Bookish Extras
Your TBR cart doesn’t have to be just books. Make it a reading station by adding:
Bookmarks
Highlighters or tabs
A reading journal or notebook
Cozy socks or a small candle (unlit, of course)
These little touches make the cart feel personal and encourage you to actually pick up a book.
5. Rotate Regularly
To keep things fresh, rotate your cart every month or season. Swap out books you’re no longer in the mood for and add new ones you’re excited about. This helps prevent reading slumps and gives you permission to DNF or postpone books without guilt.
Your TBR is not a chore—it’s a menu.
6. Make It a Reading Ritual
Finally, turn your TBR cart into part of your reading routine. When you finish a book, choose the next one from the cart. When you’re feeling stuck, browse it like you’re in your own tiny bookstore.
The more intentional you make it, the more fun reading becomes.
A TBR book cart isn’t about reading faster or conquering your backlog—it’s about creating a space that celebrates your love of books. Make it cozy. Make it chaotic. Make it yours. 📚✨
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
Evander has lived like a ghost in the forgotten corners of the Hazelthorn estate ever since he was taken in by his reclusive billionaire guardian, Byron Lennox-Hall, when he was a child. For his safety, Evander has been given three ironclad rules to follow:
He can never leave the estate. He can never go into the gardens. And most importantly, he can neveragain be left alone with Byron’s charming, underachieving grandson, Laurie.
That last rule has been in place ever since Laurie tried to kill Evander seven years ago, and yet somehow Evander is still obsessed with him.
When Byron suddenly dies, Evander inherits Hazelthorn’s immense gothic mansion and acres of sprawling grounds, along with the entirety of the Lennox-Hall family’s vast wealth. But Evander’s sure his guardian was murdered, and Laurie may be the only one who can help him find the killer before they come for Evander next.
Perhaps even more concerning is how the overgrown garden is refusing to stay behind its walls, slipping its vines and spores deeper into the house with each passing day. As the family’s dark secrets unravel alongside the growing horror of their terribly alive, bloodthirsty garden, Evander needs to find out what he’s really inheriting before the garden demands to be fed once more.
GRADE: B+
REVIEW:
I experienced Hazelthorn as an audiobook, and narrator Michael Crouch did an excellent job bringing the story to life. His performance captured the gothic, moody atmosphere perfectly, and his character voices were distinct and engaging throughout.
I’ll admit that I didn’t really like the main character, Evander. While I understood the reasons behind his intense anxiety, his inner monologue often felt repetitive and grating. I was also not especially drawn in by the book’s opening, which initially presents itself as a murder mystery—an element that turned out to be far less interesting than the story’s true strengths.
What I did love was the writing itself. Drews’s prose is lush and atmospheric, vividly capturing the emotional pain endured by both Evander and Laurie. The concept of the deadly garden was fascinating, and I appreciated how its existence affected not just the main characters but everyone around them. Although the villains fell into the familiar trope of cruel, wealthy antagonists, it didn’t detract much from my enjoyment.
Overall, I liked the ending and found the book memorable for its mood and writing style. I’m definitely looking forward to reading more from this author.
*Thank you so much to NetGalley & Recorded Books for the audiobook copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
Margaret’s rare autoimmune condition has destroyed her life, leaving her isolated and in pain. It has no cure, but she’s making do as best she can—until she’s offered a fully paid-for spot in an experimental medical trial at Graceview Memorial.
The conditions are simple, if grueling: she will live at the hospital as a full-time patient, subjecting herself to the near-total destruction of her immune system and its subsequent regeneration. The trial will essentially kill most of, but not all of her. But as the treatment progresses and her body begins to fail, she stumbles upon something sinister living and spreading within the hospital.
Unsure of what’s real and what is just medication-induced delusion, Margaret struggles to find a way out as her body and mind succumb further to the darkness lurking throughout Graceview’s halls.
GRADE: B-
REVIEW:
The Graceview Patient was marketed as Invasion of the Body Snatchers meets Misery, and since I love both, I went in expecting this to be right up my alley. And in many ways, it was. That said, experiencing it as an audiobook added an extra layer of surreal intensity—especially since it’s narrated by Xe Sands, who also read Spread Me. Her voice turned an already disorienting story into a full-blown fever dream.
Meg has lived for years with a rare autoimmune disease that has slowly stripped away her relationships, her career, and any sense of normalcy. When she’s offered a spot in an experimental medical trial—one that will completely destroy her immune system before rebuilding it—she agrees. After all, she feels she has nothing left to lose (and getting paid doesn’t hurt). But as the treatment progresses, unsettling things start happening, and Meg begins to suspect that the experiment isn’t quite what she was told. Something else may be using her body as its test subject.
This is a deeply trippy, slow-burn descent into medical horror. If you enjoy unsettling atmosphere, creeping paranoia, and stories that blur the line between reality and hallucination, this one’s worth your time. Just be warned: if you’re not into slow burns, it may feel overly repetitive or too dreamlike to fully click.
*Thank you so much to NetGalley & Dreamscape Media for the audiobook copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
VOICEOVER: ‘Maple Gold is here for endings and new beginnings . . .’
The scene opens with a young woman, Greta, standing on the pavement, waving as a car pulls away. She’s holding a small cardboard box.
GRETA (WHISPERING): ‘Bye Mum.’
She turns to face a pretty white house, straightens her back and smiles bravely. She’s ready to enter a new phase of her life—moving into her first home.
The front door is ajar, and she enters a hallway, then a sitting room. We can see there are more, bigger boxes sitting around the place, sealed and ready to unpack.
VOICEOVER: ‘It’s here for the good times and the even better ones . . .’
Greta looks apprehensive but takes a moment to take in her new surroundings. She switches on the kettle and opens a cupboard, disappointed to find it empty.
She spies her name written on the side of the box she carried in and opens it. Inside is her old teddy bear and a jar of Maple Gold coffee, a gift from her mum. Greta takes the jar out, becoming misty-eyed as she makes herself a cup of coffee. Wrapping her fingers around the cup helps her to feel more at home.
The doorbell rings, and she opens the door to find a group of her new neighbors gathered outside. They present Greta with flowers and another jar of coffee as a welcome present. It’s Maple Gold, of course.
They all laugh, and she invites them inside for coffee.
A CAPPELLA GROUP (SINGING): ‘You’re always at home with Maple Gold.’
Chapter 1
Present Day
GRETA PERKS LOVED three things in life more than anything—her family, the thrill of performing, and a fine cup of coffee. When she could combine all three, it was as satisfying as a frothy cappuccino on a cold day. But recently, a happy home life and sparkling career seemed to be slipping through her fingers.
‘I wish you could stay longer,’ she said, glancing between her husband, Jim, and their daughter, Lottie, as coffee cups clattered in the background. ‘Tonight’s important to me.’
She’d volunteered to be the guest speaker at Brewtique’s monthly Coffee Lover’s Night Out, talking about her acting career. It had been a while since she’d last performed in public, and her nerves were jumping around like frogs in a pond.
Jim offered her a smile. ‘I wish we could, too. But I promised Lottie I’d get her back to school.’ He passed Greta a shopping bag like it was a peace offering. ‘Just brought a few things you might need . . .’
‘Talent show rehearsal,’ Lottie muttered, not looking up from her phone. ‘Total waste of time.’
Greta and Jim shared a glance, a silent understanding of the challenges of raising a fifteen-year-old together while living apart.
‘A talent show? Sounds fun.’ Greta gave Lottie’s arm a quick reassuring rub. ‘What are you doing? A show tune, or a monologue? Perhaps even a Shakespeare sonnet?’
Lottie shrugged a disinterested shoulder.
Greta’s spirits dipped a little. ‘Well, whatever you do, I bet you’ll be great,’ she said.
‘We’ll grab a burger afterward, then I’ll drop her back at your place.’ Jim opened his mouth slightly, as if wanting to say something more. ‘Stay safe returning to your car tonight, okay?’
Greta nodded, hoping for a word of encouragement, perhaps a ‘good luck,’ ‘break a leg,’ or even a quick hug. But Lottie was already heading toward the door.
Jim’s fingers lightly brushed Greta’s arm, but didn’t linger.
Then he turned and followed their daughter outside.
Through the window, Greta watched as her family dashed across the road without her. She smiled brightly and waved, even though her stomach was twisting.
‘Drop her back at your place.’ The words stung like a paper cut.
She and Jim were over four months into a trial separation, with just a few weeks left until their self-imposed New Year’s Eve deadline. At that point they’d agreed to make a final call on the future of their marriage.
It didn’t seem as clear-cut as Greta had hoped. What had once felt like a simple decision—to try to rebuild their marriage or let it go—now felt tangled with uncertainty. After almost twenty years together, was she still in love with Jim? Was he still in love with her?
Greta peeked inside the bag, her mood lifting when she saw Jim had brought her herbal throat lozenges, a new notebook, and a spare pen.
Outside, the wet, grey pavement was the same color as the inky November sky, and she suddenly craved a rich mocha.
Greta turned to face the room. In half an hour, the place would hopefully be buzzing with people. She was determined to deliver an entertaining talk, even if it wasn’t exactly her kind of coffee shop.
She preferred cozy spaces where she could curl up with a good book, sipping coffee from mugs the size of plant pots. The type of place that served homemade rocky road and had a corner dedicated to board games.
Brewtique, on the other hand, had industrial-style light- bulbs and blackboards showcasing quirky concoctions, such as rhubarb and custard lattes. A pink neon coffee cup on the wall cast an eerie pink glow on her face. The spindly branches of a Christmas tree on the counter looked like they’d been pecked by crows.
Her long-time agent, Nora, had applauded Greta for spotting Brewtique’s Facebook post asking for local speakers. ‘Putting yourself forward shows brilliant initiative, darling. Well-done,’ Nora had gushed. ‘You never know who might be in the audience. Any exposure could help give your career a little boost. Plus, it’s a great way to plug your acting classes.’
A boost? Greta knew her career needed a defibrillator. If one human year equals seven dog years, the same rule definitely applied to actors out of the spotlight. She felt like her career had been on pause for too long, and she was ready to hit Play again.
Greta missed the camaraderie on set, filming the iconic Maple Gold coffee commercials she’d starred in with Jim and Lot- tie a decade ago. Nothing compared to the soar of her senses when the director called, ‘Action,’ and everything clicked into place. She longed to find that spark again, not just for herself, but in the hope of pulling her family back together again.
If Greta was honest, she also missed the attention. Champagne on ice in a silver bucket, fans queuing around the block for her autograph, and the occasional limousine whisking her to grand events had been cherries on top of the cake. Those memories felt almost unreal now, as if they belonged to someone else.
The students she’d coached since then seemed to enjoy her acting classes, but it wasn’t the same. Guiding nervous amateurs through voice projection techniques or stage presence didn’t give her the same buzz as stepping in front of a camera or an audience. Hopefully, tonight would rekindle some of that feeling, proof she still had something to offer.
The sound of dropped cutlery pulled her out of her thoughts. Greta turned to see Brewtique’s owner, Josie, rushing around, a dusting of flour in her hair. Meanwhile, her young pink-haired assistant, Maisie, dawdled in a corner, glued to her phone.
‘Need a hand with anything?’ Greta called out.
‘Oh gosh, no.’ Josie shook her head frantically. ‘You’re the talent. I’m just running a bit late with everything . . .’
‘Are you sure? I’ve already prepped for my talk.’
Josie bit her lip, tempted. ‘Well . . . setting up the refreshment table would be helpful, while I get changed. I’ve just popped fresh brownies in the oven. Maisie knows to keep an eye on them.’ She gave Greta a pointed look. ‘She’s new here.’
‘Sure,’ Greta said, catching her drift. ‘Leave it to me.’
Greta set out coffee cups with vigor, arranged cookies on plates, and laid out napkins. Her pulse quickened when she saw the time. ‘Maisie!’ she called out. ‘We need to hurry. There’s only fifteen minutes left until showtime.’
The young woman barely raised her eyes. ‘Didn’t your family once star in some coffee ads or something?’ she asked. ‘One day, I’ll get discovered like that. Want to see my latest TikTok audition?’ She held out her phone.
‘Yes, we starred in them.’ Greta briskly polished a spoon on her apron. ‘I’ll look at your clip later. Now, please check all the glasses. Some of these are scratched, and Josie said you’re in charge of the brownies…’
When Josie reappeared wearing fresh clothes, she glanced out of the window and sighed. ‘Looks like we’ve got a smaller crowd than usual.’
‘How many are you expecting?’ Greta asked, joining her. ‘Six or seven. I’ve just checked my messages and had quite a few cancellations. Christmas is coming, and it’s the Strictly Salsa final on TV tonight.’
Greta chewed her lip. Disappointment was part of an actor’s life—the rejections, the scathing reviews, and the occasional inappropriate behavior from a director she’d once respected. She hadn’t expected a theatre-sized crowd, but six?
‘An intimate gathering,’ she said with a nod. ‘I’ll make it work.’
Josie welcomed the guests inside. When they were settled down around tables with coffee and cake, she launched into her introduction.
‘Welcome to the monthly Brewtique Coffee Lover’s Night Out. We’ve been fortunate to hear some incredible stories from our speakers this year—conquering Mount Everest, training guide dogs for the blind, and a brain surgeon who worked in war-torn countries. And tonight we’ve got the former star of the Maple Gold coffee commercials. Let’s bid a warm welcome to our special guest, Greta Perks.’
No pressure, Greta thought, smiling brightly as she stepped forward.
‘G . . . good evening, everyone,’ she started, feeling woefully out of practice. ‘Thanks for coming.
‘I’m going to tell you a story about how I became the face of the Maple Gold coffee commercials. Yes, for ten years, I was the lady who made you believe coffee could make your life perfect.’
A few chuckles rang out, and Greta soon found her flow. She paced up and down, commanding the little coffee shop as if starring in a West End theatre production.
‘Did you know that Maple Gold was born in 1950, as a humble roastery in the back streets of London? Over the years, it became a household name, beloved for its delicious blends and vintage appeal.’ She leaned in, as if sharing a secret. ‘And who wouldn’t want to live in Mapleville, the idyllic town from the commercials? The sun always shone, the grass was emerald green, and the whole town thrived on cups of Maple Gold.’
She took out her phone and played the jingle.
When you wake at sunrise,
and open your eyes.
You’re ready to start your day, the Maple Gold way.
You’re always at home with Maple Gold.
From the faraway looks on a few faces, it seemed like nostalgia was working.
‘I locked eyes with my love interest, Jim, when he painted my garden fence in the commercial, and things went a bit further off-camera,’ Greta said with a wink. ‘We got married and then had Lottie, our own little star. We were such a happy family, on-screen and off . . .’
She paused as a twinge of sadness crept in, like how bitter- ness stays on the tongue after an espresso. A screech of metal chair legs against wooden floorboards made her flinch.
A woman in the audience called out, uninvited. ‘Are you guys still working?’
Greta blinked, the question taking her by surprise. ‘Yes, everything’s going wonderfully,’ she said, feeling guilty at embellishing the truth. ‘Jim’s still gracing the stage and screen,
Lottie’s currently rehearsing for a school Christmas talent show, and as for me . . . well . . . I run some excellent acting classes, if anyone is interested?’
A few seconds of silence followed before more questions flew at her like arrows.
‘How’s Lottie?’
‘Where’s Jim?’
‘How do you feel about Maple Gold replacing you with a different family?’
‘Does Lottie resent you putting her on-screen at such a young age?’
‘Those are some great, um, deep questions,’ Greta said with a swallow. She grabbed her notes, hurriedly trying to recover her thread. ‘I think my talk will cover most of them . . . Now, where was I?’
Then, suddenly, the shrill scream of the smoke alarm pierced the moment. Greta jumped and spun around to see smoke billowing from the oven.
Josie shouted out over the bleeping alarm. ‘Maisie. Did you forget about the brownies?’
Maisie’s head snapped up, her eyes widening when she noticed the grey clouds. ‘Oops.’
A flurry of activity broke out.
Maisie darted behind the counter and yanked open the oven door, waving her arms as the grey smoke curled out. ‘It’s fine. Totally under control.’
Josie grabbed her oven gloves and pulled out the tray. The burnt brownies looked like steaming lumps of coal, and she tossed them into the sink.
Greta rushed over to help, spinning on the tap so the brownies spat and sizzled. She threw open the front door to let in some fresh air, then grabbed a tea towel and wafted it in front of the smoke alarm until it stopped. ‘Is everyone okay?’ she called out.
An elderly couple had already put on their coats and scuttled outside. The remaining four guests had drifted toward the buffet table, their focus now on cake rather than conversation. Greta followed them, trying to salvage what was left of the evening.
One man wrapped cake into a napkin and slipped it into his pocket. A couple of women wearing matching blue anoraks conversed loudly.
‘I didn’t recognize Greta at first, did you? She’s put on quite a bit of weight,’ one said.
‘I know. Age isn’t kind to some ladies,’ her friend replied. ‘Ahem.’ Greta stood beside them and picked up a cookie.
‘I’m forty-five and proud of it,’ she said, biting it into it. ‘Worth every extra pound, don’t you think?’
The women paused with their cakes suspended mid-air, before nodding sheepishly.
Greta attempted to spark interest in her acting classes, but the attention was elsewhere, mostly on the kitchen, which looked like it had been trampled by a herd of buffalo.
She joined Josie at the door, wearily bidding goodnight to the guests as they filtered out.
‘Sorry everything didn’t go to plan. I can’t thank you enough,’ Josie said. She handed Greta a brown envelope containing her small fee. ‘I’m not sure I’m cut out to run a coffee shop . . .’
Greta mustered a tired smile. After tonight, she felt the same way about performing in public.
She said goodnight, then called Lottie while trudging to her car, leaving a message on her voicemail. ‘Hi, sweetheart. I’ll be home soon. Hope your rehearsal went well.’
Rain pelted down, and Greta hunched her shoulders against the cold. The streets were empty and quiet, and icy droplets snaked down her neck, making her shiver. In the dark, she noticed a hunched figure approaching, and Jim’s warning about staying safe echoed in her mind. She tried to swerve, but the person bumped her arm.
Startled, Greta dropped her car keys and stooped to pick them up. When she looked up, a woman in a long, dark coat stood over her. Her face was part hidden by a voluminous hood, and long tendrils of her damp white hair hung down. With a quick muttered apology, the stranger handed a piece of paper to Greta and hurried across the road.
As she stood up, Greta’s heart thudded in her chest. Under the dim street lamp, she uncurled her fingers and glanced at the flyer. It was probably just a pizza menu, but the vintage-style design caught her eye. It featured an illustration of a white rabbit and the words ‘Looking for the Perfect Blend?’ Beneath it was an image of a jar with the label ‘Drink Me.’
She gripped the flyer tighter, unsure what it was even promoting. A strange feeling of curiosity rippled through her body. Looking for the perfect blend? In her life, she most certainly was.
She climbed into her car and tossed the flyer onto the passenger seat. Sitting there for a moment, she flopped her head against the steering wheel as the evening’s events raced through her mind. Was she ever going to get her life back on track?
With a deep sigh, Greta turned the key in the ignition and waited for the engine to rumble to life. The light from the street lamps twinkled orange in the raindrops on the wind- screen, and she released the handbrake.
It was probably just a trick of the light, but as Greta pulled off the car park, she could have sworn the white rabbit on the flyer gave her a wink.
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
The Inkblotters 