Eryn McCee
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erynmccee.bsky.social
Eryn McCee
@erynmccee.bsky.social
3.2K followers 740 following 10K posts
Writes dragons. Eats metaphor. Occasionally human.
British soul, German soil, haunted playlist.

#HorrorWritersChat co-host

https://Linktr.ee/Eryn.mcconnell
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erynmccee.bsky.social
I wrote this, not quite knowing where it would go, but liking her thinking as I wrote it. Make of that what you will. The prompt: remains.
You always asked me Face upturned so sweet To preserve your remains Remember me as I lived, you said So I did - as I always did I followed your instructions to the t As they like to say I bottled you and stacked you up In all my empty glass jars And stored you away Tucked into the shadows behind me Leaving you to rot Just as you did to me I won't forget you But now I begin to live
November 10, 2025 at 8:41 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
On the train and it's busy, practically every seat is taken. I'm at the window as I got on first. A man sat next to me. Fine. In the three minutes since he sat down he's shoved at my leg three times. Now he is sighing.
Ah well. Difficult for him.
November 10, 2025 at 3:05 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
I took putrefy (stupid prompt word, who thought of that? It was me) and added some hope. Because even rotting things have warmth. And I handed it back.
She watched him from afar, noticing how his fingers stilled in sorrow thinking no one noticed how his hopes had rotted in fertile soil. He thought he’d failed. Grief settled into every line as his head bowed, wishes of love putrefying in dead, withered roses. But her eyes saw it all. And as he sank, she gathered her plans, sweeping them up with fresh blooms not yet opened, but blazing with hope.
November 9, 2025 at 12:17 PM
Reposted by Eryn McCee
chaoticauthor.online
I'm now permanently signed off from having to work.

But I'm a person who likes to keep busy (spoons, energy, medical appointments etc not withstanding) and I will keep writing until I'm no longer able.

Please keep buying, reading, reviewing and spreading the word about my books.
chaoticauthor.online Matt Mason - One Chaotic Author @chaoticauthor.online · Aug 1
Sseeing as you all desperately want it to be autumn right now, I suppose it's acceptable to start promoting these 😂

🌈📚💙📚👀📢📚😱🩸📚💙📚🪐♠️🌈📚

Angel's Mass: books2read.com/angelsmass
Bronze Carriage: books2read.com/bronzecarriage
James Hotel: mybook.to/jameshotel
Spooky S'weird: books2read.com/salmonweirder
Icy cracked background. Cover shows a sketch of a medieval church. Text: Angel's Mass: A Medieval Ghost Story. At Tintern Abbey in Wales, brother Edmund is an ordinary onk haunted by a man only he can see and hear. And Edmund will uncover a mystery that has consequences for everyone. Creepy forest background image. Book cover shows a simple sketch of a horse and carriage. Text reads: The Small Bronze Carriage on the Mantelpiece: A Gothic Ghost Story. Two men who had not seen each other in decades. An 80-year-old tales of newlyweds travelling across the country to see family. Both encounters linked by one curious and mysterious artefact. A rainy tarmac background. Book cover shows a simple sketch of a smal manor house. Text reads: The Residents of James Hotel: A 1970s Ghost Story. Stranded at the side of the road one stormy November night, Vince is offered a complimentary room by a local hotelier. Creepy cemetery background. Book cover shows the same. Spooky Salmonweird: Tales from the village. From the Iron Age to WWII, thirteen spine tingling tales from the periods in which these supporting characters lived.
November 8, 2025 at 9:30 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
The prompt was spore print. I added a slice of determination and a soupçon of fate. And then I gave it back.
They said that a soul leaves its print like a mushroom leaves a spore print - delicate, invisible, but traceable to the trained eye. In the lecture hall, under stark lights and glass vitrines, the professor explained soul-mapping in neat, academic terms. Most students nodded, bored or bemused. She moved. She walked to the central glass panel. And she placed her hand flat against it, leaving the faintest trace of warmth, of skin oil, of pressure. “Why’d you do that?” her friend whispered, half-laughing. She turned, quiet, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Because I’m tired of waiting for him to find me. I need to leave my handprints wherever I go. Let him track me. Let him know.” Then she walked out, her shoulders squared, her mouth a quiet line of resolve. Her friend followed after, shaking her head with slight amusement. And one man, who had been still the whole time, stood up. He spoke not a word. He pushed up the sleeve of his sweater, exposing his wrist, inked with spirals. He walked to the glass, and put his hand there. He matched it to hers. It was a perfect fit. Left hand to right. Warmth to warmth. He exhaled softly, like something inside him unclenched. He didn’t chase her. He smiled, faintly. She would leave more prints. He would follow. Not to find her. To meet her.
November 8, 2025 at 3:02 PM
Reposted by Eryn McCee
chaoticauthor.online
Finished listening to the audio book of this tonight by @stephellis.bsky.social

This really got under my skin. Might require a second listen.
A 5 star review for The Barricade by Stephanie Ellis This book really got under my skin. it felt at once quite familiar, but soon enough that all went out of the window and I gave up my usual attempts to try to work it all out - nothing is what it seems. At first it had a bit of a Fallout vibe, but as the story went on, mystery on top of the dystopia, and so many twists and turns added into the mix. Far from feeling confusing (as some reviews have said) this just added more layers to a seemingly unending mystery. The ideas and the execution are going to stay with me for a while. Great job to the author.
November 5, 2025 at 10:06 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
Oooh tough question.
The seal would be under a pane of glass in a forgotten conservatory, pressed between the roots of a withered rosebush.
It hums at dusk, when the light dies slow. Anyone who tries to read the inscription forgets their own name before they read the last word.
#HorrorWritersChat
greethewriter.bsky.social Gree_ @greethewriter.bsky.social · 5d
Tonight’s attendance is most fortuitous, wouldn’t you agree? Mind the arcane energies coruscating in the laboratory; our work is, as always, dangerous. Now then, tell me; how would you describe an ideal seal containing a Terrible Truth? Where is it located?
#HorrorWritersChat
Concept art for the video-game Thief, titled ‘Dr. Troy’s Main Floor’. It’s an alchemical and medical shop of a Victorian and Gothic fashion, darkened by shadow, but the silvery glow of the moon cuts through the curtains. The floor is full to bursting with shelves of vials, containers, and phylacteries of cold, eerie colours and disturbing sizes. A Human-sized skeleton is at the back end of the room. At the foreground, we see a very disturbing, glass container of two, miniature skeletons embracing and kissing. A heavy, metallic cash machine sits at the wooden counter. No-one is in this room. Careful! The arcane energies whipping about our artifacts are most deadly. Now then, tell me; how, to you, does an ideal seal of Terrible Truths look like? And where is it located? No links, covers, or self-promo! Leave that for the end! Quote the post & include the hashtag! #HorrorWritersChat
November 5, 2025 at 8:01 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
Greetings and helllooooooO! I be Eryn, I write psychological and supernatural horror.
My seal contains just one terrible truth, a simple and haunting one.
When you look for monsters, you're looking in the wrong places.

#HorrorWritersChat
greethewriter.bsky.social Gree_ @greethewriter.bsky.social · 5d
Ah, good evening, friend. Dr. Bedlam, at your service. Our esoteric laboratory has just opened. Come in, we are doing vital work on studying the cosmic unknown. Tell us, what do you write, and what seal do you own that contains a Terrible Truth hidden from Humanity?

#HorrorWritersChat
Concept art for the video-game Thief, titled ‘Dr. Troy’s Main Floor’. It’s an alchemical and medical shop of a Victorian and Gothic fashion, darkened by shadow, but the silvery glow of the moon cuts through the curtains. The floor is full to bursting with shelves of vials, containers, and phylacteries of cold, eerie colours and disturbing sizes. A Human-sized skeleton is at the back end of the room. At the foreground, we see a very disturbing, glass container of two, miniature skeletons embracing and kissing. A heavy, metallic cash machine sits at the wooden counter. No-one is in this room. Question 1: Good evening, friend – Dr. Bedlam, at your service. Our esoteric laboratory has just opened. Tell us, what do you write, and what seal containing a Terrible Truth do you possess? No links, covers, or self-promo! Leave that for the end! Quote the post & include the hashtag! #HorrorWriterschat
November 5, 2025 at 7:21 PM
Reposted by Eryn McCee
chaoticauthor.online
Hello! Matt from the hospital here where my first dose of chemo has just finished.

I write as MG Mason, lots of ghost stories.

The terrible truth? The manner by which humanity will destroy itself: petulant stupidity. But hope always accompanies, it can't be killed.

#HorrorWritersChat
greethewriter.bsky.social Gree_ @greethewriter.bsky.social · 5d
Ah, good evening, friend. Dr. Bedlam, at your service. Our esoteric laboratory has just opened. Come in, we are doing vital work on studying the cosmic unknown. Tell us, what do you write, and what seal do you own that contains a Terrible Truth hidden from Humanity?

#HorrorWritersChat
Concept art for the video-game Thief, titled ‘Dr. Troy’s Main Floor’. It’s an alchemical and medical shop of a Victorian and Gothic fashion, darkened by shadow, but the silvery glow of the moon cuts through the curtains. The floor is full to bursting with shelves of vials, containers, and phylacteries of cold, eerie colours and disturbing sizes. A Human-sized skeleton is at the back end of the room. At the foreground, we see a very disturbing, glass container of two, miniature skeletons embracing and kissing. A heavy, metallic cash machine sits at the wooden counter. No-one is in this room. Question 1: Good evening, friend – Dr. Bedlam, at your service. Our esoteric laboratory has just opened. Tell us, what do you write, and what seal containing a Terrible Truth do you possess? No links, covers, or self-promo! Leave that for the end! Quote the post & include the hashtag! #HorrorWriterschat
November 5, 2025 at 7:17 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
Fracture was the word. I added a slice of gaslighting and handed it back.
He liked to smile when she cried. When she said it hurt, he sighed - a happy sigh, not from fear, but joy. You remember it wrong, he’d say. Such a dramatic kitten, he’d sigh - with a smile. And so it went. Until the ice cooled the mirror. A fracture slid across its face. And her reflection rose, whispering the truth. At last, she looked Her eyes opened And his masks fell. He did not smile. He cried.
November 5, 2025 at 4:39 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
The prompt was mildewed. I actually wrote this into my book this morning. And then forgot I didn't post it. Because it was already with the air.
The bowl keeps its silence And mildew answered Every pause becomes Its own small hunger
November 4, 2025 at 10:12 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
LOOOKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
beverleylee.bsky.social Beverley Lee @beverleylee.bsky.social · 6d
💫One week to go! 💫

It's hard to believe that The Haunting of Wounded Birds will take to the wing in just seven days! This one owns my heart in so many ways and I hope readers love Jackdaw as much as I do.
mybook.to/woundedbirds
Book cover. A young jackdaw on a dark ,misty background with red fly agaric mushrooms to the foreground, surrounded by themes/vibes. The Haunting of Wounded Birds by Beverley Lee.
November 4, 2025 at 9:50 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
I was going to write something about rot and decay for the prompt miasmatic. But after the day I had, I wanted something quite different.
Yet, the word requires its tithe.
So I wrapped it in a plane wing of memory, a building near the stars, reverence, and breath. Then, I sent it back.
The air was still sick with endings Even from up here, where the clouds clutched at corners that grazed the sky. Memory still withered here The kind that seeps into brick, slides across forgotten glass. I sat solitary on the roof City spread like a map, wounded, fettered. One solitary plane trailed its miasmatic wing As it breathed what we had lost What we loved too much to keep. Despite myself, my eyes looked in hope A blistered, forlorn hope. Of shoots of green, of something fighting through Of winter leaves and hands, reaching in reverence Of a sigh, a breath, a sign That's maybe how we can go on.
November 3, 2025 at 8:08 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
The prompt was carrion.
I wrapped it in a Morrigan face, set it in a battlefield and then, I passed it back.
Your name is a carcass That I keep under my tongue Did you think I would discard you? Nay, I leave you to rot there Your blessed purgatory Where you can ride in the warm dark And survey the battlefield Your hopes lie fallow Carrion in the dirt Did you think I would fall easy?
November 3, 2025 at 4:17 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
Mmmm-hmmmm.
The prompt was spoor. A scentilicious word, no?
I took the spoor, made it sickening, hung it out to dry, and then handed it back.
He tracked me, tireless flickering past every whispered no Slipping through windows through doors I forgot to close he called it love, of course i called it a warning. yet my ribs were spoored by him Callouses blooming dark red my fingers tore at the seams of me itching to drag his scent free but one day i stepped out into light such a simple thing and he burned his breath gone no more cage. no more rot. just me.
November 2, 2025 at 10:05 AM
erynmccee.bsky.social
I just finished a ghost write. And I feel really, fucking sad about it. I will miss those characters. But the client is coming back in February so I'll cope till then.
In the meantime, I've put down 3K on a domestic feminist noir novella about menopausal murderers. You lot are going to LOVE Mavis.
“You did well,” she said again. “Don’t let your nerves get the better of you. Drink your tea next time.” “I will.” They crossed the road in a slow, stately fashion. Mavis kept her head up and her smile in. It was always satisfying to complete a mission, but it would never do to get too excited about it. Murder was a serious business, after all. By the time they reached the station, Mavis was already thinking about what to wear tomorrow. She could dig out her lovely old wool coat that had a deep pocket for her knitting. Useful, that. And maybe, just maybe – she could have lunch at Betty’s after. Madam Chairman would approve, she was sure. It was important to reward oneself after good work. Otherwise, what was the point in doing it properly?
November 1, 2025 at 9:55 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
The prompt was mycelium.
Love found me there, in the crystalline roots A spiderweb of soft, creeping quiet under the bark It found me there, soft And we did not fall apart, there in the dark We fed our parts to the roots that witnessed us Mycelium blooming between our entwined ribs A forest breaking open It laced the ruin of us, slow, hungry turning rot into memory and memory into bloom.
November 1, 2025 at 3:18 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
I've got this ghost write to finish, and I have 15K left to do. So it's this weekend to get that finished and get it done with. Easy as, 3 days, no problem. Walk in the park.
Right? Right?
What could go wrong? Well...
a cartoon character from inside out 2 says aargh!
Alt: a cartoon character from inside out 2 says aargh!
media.tenor.com
October 31, 2025 at 5:10 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
Oh I AM SOOOOOOOOO DOING THISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
pasuht.bsky.social pasuht/Erich Krull @pasuht.bsky.social · 10d
ES ERWACHT! 💀

@annazabini.bsky.social, @norabendzko.bsky.social, @ypicalwriter.bsky.social und @pasuht.bsky.social haben zur dunkelsten Saison mit bösen Mächten konversiert, um euch Folgendes zu bringen:

den #HorrorSchreibZirkel

Demnächst. Wöchentliche Schreibchallenge. Werdet Teil, Finsterlinge!
Das fotorealistische Bild einer Beschwörung oder Seance mit dem Tag #HorrorSchreibZirkel darüber. Das Foto ist in schwarz, braun und golden gehalten. Der Beobachter schaut auf ein Geisterboard mit golden eingelegten Buchstaben und Zahlen. Auf dem Tisch dahinter steht eine Holzkiste mit okkulten Symbolen auf dem Deckel. Im Hintergrund und out-of-Fokus sitzt eine Gestalt mit brauner Haut, von der unter der oberen Bildkante nur noch die Lippen mit rotem Lippenstift über einer dicken Kette vom Gesicht zu sehen sind.
October 31, 2025 at 5:07 PM
erynmccee.bsky.social
The prompt was Resurrect. I swathed it in lies, snarls and fingernails, clawing its way to the surface, unbreathing: and gave it back.
I woke where my name had already rotted No miracle, just muscle. No god, just want My resurrection was not tidy, nor glorious It never comes gentle, tearing through its own mummified shroud Even bones bloom, if you wait long enough in the dark Unblinking, hardly breathing; I stitched myself from what I’d thrown away, And built a new body out of snarled curses and ash. The dirt held me until I stopped apologising for the dark I rose, not to live, but to remember how it felt to want life The soil remembered what I tried to forget left it buried under my fingernails. My pulse learned to mimic the hum of flies. I didn’t rise. I was dragged upward by what I buried There’s holiness in rot, you see; the saints just never stayed long enough to see it.
October 31, 2025 at 11:01 AM
erynmccee.bsky.social
The prompt was deliquesce. I poured it into a crystal glass of self-erasure, and let it slide into silence. Then I handed it back.
Some burn when they love. Scorch marks rising in the sky Claw marks, lines of possession. They loved, once. And left the scars. I am no stranger to fire. Nor to what it leaves behind But I do not burn. I drown when I love Or perhaps I deliquesce. The devotion that pours from my eyes A tide that carpets the feet of those that I choose Making their path smooth They walk away from me, sated And I prefer that, really. Because I can love, and give, and turn to this An inevitability. A sighing as I subside Quietly, into decline Dissolving into the skies.
October 30, 2025 at 1:38 PM
Reposted by Eryn McCee
marywyrd.bsky.social
I don’t have a book out - yet. Instead, please check out something I wrote that’s a little different and a very quick read

#HorrorWritersChat
marywyrd.bsky.social Mary Wyrd (she/her) @marywyrd.bsky.social · 12d
Some of us who #ReadWeird also write Weird fiction.

Some of us who write Weird fiction enjoy thinking "what if...?"

e.g. "what if pop rock but Weirder..."

Find out:

ETERNAL FLAME (Wyrd Parody Version)
by @marywyrd.bsky.social

Sing along if you know the tune 🎵
Eternal Flame (parody) - The Bangles / Mary Wyrd Version — Mary Wyrd
What do you get when you mix American Pop Rock with Weird fiction? The Bangles ‘Eternal Flame’ gets a Wyrd makeover.
www.marywyrd.com
October 29, 2025 at 8:39 PM
Reposted by Eryn McCee
samanthabwriter.bsky.social
Thanks for another great #HorrorWritersChat Always makes a Wednesday better. If you'd like to see more of the kind of horror I write, you can check out the "horror stories" section of my BRAND NEW WEBSITE! (It's been a long time coming) dangerouswhenbored.com/collections/...
October 29, 2025 at 8:41 PM
Reposted by Eryn McCee
satyrosphilbrucato.bsky.social
As a kid who grew up surrounded by forest, and as a teenage insomniac who wandered around in them at night, I was - and remain - entranced by the primordial power of the Dark Woods. That element features prominently in my work.
October 29, 2025 at 8:41 PM
Reposted by Eryn McCee
chrisakins.bsky.social
Hey howdy hey, I’m Christian Akins, my book is horror/comedy/fantasy, and my childhood fear was of people in pig masks because of a really messed up dream I had about one casually following me while the world ended!

#HorrorWritersChat #writingcommunity #halloween
erynmccee.bsky.social Eryn McCee @erynmccee.bsky.social · 12d
Hola, Horror Writers. I'm going to post and eat as I've pretty much just walked in. But, we're all about it today, so close to Halloween!
Tell me tell me. What scared you as a child?

No links, no hawking books please, till the end. Thanks Thanks.

#HorrorWritersChat
Welcome home, horror writers! Introduce yourselves. What do you write and .... what was your childhood fear....
October 29, 2025 at 8:41 PM