“Sovereign’s Last Hurrah”, featuring a team of retired
super-powered villains embarking on one last caper with their
legendary super-hero rival.
amateur learns that the fabled secret of comedy may come at too high
a cost. “83”, where the interview for a dream job
becomes a nightmare, and “In Vino Veritas, In Vino Mors”,
where a dying wine collector takes part in a very special tasting
session, courtesy of a very special visitor.
factories, stranded astronauts, lovecraftian librarians, virulent
plagues, and pork scratchings … all with a twist in the tale,
courtesy of the equally twisted mind of David Court.
in over a dozen venues including Tales to Terrify, Strangely Funny,
Fears Accomplice and The Voices Within. Whilst primarily a horror
writer, he also writes science fiction, poetry and satire.
“Quirky and highly readable” and David can’t bring himself
to disagree with either of those statements.
books of Stephen King and Clive Barker, and the films of John
Carpenter and George Romero. The first wave of Video Nasties may also
have had a profound effect on his psyche.
David works as a Software Developer and lives in Coventry with his
wife, three cats and an ever-growing beard. David’s wife once asked
him if he’d write about how great she was. David replied that he
would, because he specialized in short fiction. Despite that, they
are still married.
In Vino Veritas, In Vino Mors
To hear him tell his tales was to be there yourself. Here was I, a being considerably older than Albarossa, who had only seen a fraction of the world—both known and unknown—in comparison. He spoke of sentient fungi from different worlds (whose tubers could be distilled into quite a reasonably flavoured spirit, apparently) in the same breath that he’d talk about the complexity of finding and fermenting mandrake roots (blending them with honey and molasses was one of his trade secrets). He’d stolen fruits and herbs with mystical powers from kings, barons, and holy men and had fought with ghosts, ghouls, and formless things with unpronounceable names. The evening flew by as more bottles from his exquisite collection were opened and openly quaffed—each bottle had an origin story as delicious and as addictive as the drink itself.