Edwin Black
Edwin Black is a writer of weird things hailing from South Yorkshire in the UK. They can be summoned by an offering made at one's closest stone circle.
His is a world of long shadows and trees that whisper in a language unknown, of tram sparks that illuminate eyes staring from the ginnel, of blood splashed cobblestones, angry trade unionists, desolate villages, and haunted places that were never meant for people to set foot in.
There are things older than us, aye, and we're nowt but their tenants. Soon there'll be a knock on the door, an' nobbut'll stop 'em takin' their dues...
In which a house turns to insanity upon realising its own immortality
In which the goddess of chaos takes a road trip to find her golden apple
In which a hike turns into divine torment
In which an abbey is bathed in viscera (18+)
In which an archaeological dig goes horribly wrong