Season 1 in Review

IMG_1702So.  I would guess that it’s midwinter where you are.  Yule, or Christmas, or whatever name they call it these days.  The preponderance of pagan festivals at this time of year always amuses me.  A literal celebration for having survived this long in a harsh winter!  A welcoming of the return of the sun, or the son, or…

Suffice to say, the lean times are coming to an end, and what better way to celebrate the new year than with new stories from the storytellers?  Perhaps though, we would be better to first reflect upon events as they have transpired…

Pierre, our feisty farmer, first stumbled upon the world of the supernatural thanks to some careless thievery.  The existence of the piaffhomme was already known to his companion, who has acted as a mentor of sorts and was the first to realise the danger because SOMEONE WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS DIDN’T PRACTISE HIS CANTRIPS AND BROUGHT A PLAGUE OF EVIL DOWN UPON THE WORLD.

‘I can hear you, you know.  I mean, I’m literally the only person who can hear you.  You’re inside my head, old man.’

Shut up and stop ChatSnapping that young wench, or whatever you call it.  Anyway.  The first of the sirens came to this world in search of SOMEBODY and on the way, enslaved the farmer, causing him to turn upon the young piaffhomme who had taken a liking to him. His aforementioned mentor was distracted by an accident that resulted in him swearing a boon to the princess of the rat people to come up with some way of curing her indigestion.  Yes, sadly, you heard all of that correctly.

‘When you sum things up like this, you kind of realise how much weird shit has happened recently.’

Yes, and it becomes apparent how much of this could have been avoided by a master wizard stepping up and taking responsibility for his actions, rather than hiding behind farm workers and reindeer.

‘Not cool, Haitius.  You’re affecting my self-esteem.’

Your self-esteem, as you call it, will cease to be an issue once you can throw a decent fireball and smite your enemies.  Do I make myself clear?


The farmer, simple as he is, placed loyalty above perspicacity and tried to return to his homestead to rescue his pet.  Thanks to some unlikely good fortune, the canine knocked the siren into a modern farming device that rendered her unable to present a threat.

‘I can’t believe she fell into the woodchipper.  That’s like something off the TV.’

Now the sirens have returned in force and the heroic young piaffhomme has ridden back in search of her people.  She must convince them to intervene before the presence of the sirens in the town reaches critical mass, threatening the very fabric of reality as we know it.  And while she risks everything to save the world, the best of humanity is-


‘Oh, goddamn it.  What’s that, four wins in a row?  Are you using magic?’

‘He’s not using magic, Pierre.  You just ain’t looking at what you’re throwing away.’

‘Any sign of any sirens?’

‘Can’t see nothing yet.  Though maybe it’s worth loading the guns and putting the cheese in our ears now, just to be on the safe side.’

‘Fine.  Your deal.’

We’re doomed.



Chapter Twelve

“Oh! Mon amour!”

I rush to Pierre’s side as he hits the ground, head thumping hard against the concrete floor of the garage. I momentarily panic at the thought of it breaking open like a soft melon. But it doesn’t—people, it would seem, are sturdier than I remember them—and I cradle his head in my lap. Or, more specifically, the lap of my front hooves. I stroke his hair off his forehead, which is warm and much too moist, and lean my face close to his to make sure he’s breathing. When I feel a small exhalation from his nose, I give a sigh of relief and look over at his friend. Continue reading

Final Chapter For 2017 – Out November 25th

Hey everyone,

The next chapter of Caribou Chronicles will be out on Saturday, November 25th, as opposed to this weekend. It’s going to be last chapter we put out before the holidays—Ben, Pierre, and the rest of the gang will be back in January, 2018—and it’s going to be an extra long edition to hold you over.

So stay tuned for the next instalment and catch you guys soon!

A Shout-out To All Our Quebec Readers

Hey everyone!

If you happen to be in the Montreal area and have nothing to do on Sunday, come by Chapters Pointe-Claire and grab a signed copy of Caitlin Marceau’s coauthored collection Read-Only: A Collection of Digital Horror. She’ll be there to talk about the book (written in collaboration with the talented M. Regan), to talk about Caribou Chronicles, and some really cool projects coming up in 2018.

The signing is going to be this Sunday, November 12th, from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., and it should be great fun.

Hope to see you all there!

THE NEWSPAPER AD, by Lambert Muir

Josh made his way on the sidewalk, side-stepping and sliding through the slow throngs of people, passing jamming buskers by. He turned left and then right, continued for two blocks, then turned right into an alleyway dotted by shop and restaurant back doors. The garbage in the containers was baking under the hot summer sun, giving the air within the alley a humid smell of decay. Josh fished out a small piece of paper from his pocket,  the newspaper ad his mother had cut out for him. Her message was clear: there be a job, go get it. The directions on the ad weren’t so clear. It said to get to this alley and look for door number 23. Josh walked up and down the alley without finding the door. He started to turn back, his shirt above his nose to buffer the smell of marinating garbage, when a man called to him from door 23. Continue reading

Coming Soon

In addition to the main storyline which will be released weekly during July 2017 and fortnightly thereafter, we are planning a number of additional stories to add to the Caribou Chronicles world and give other writers the chance to showcase their talent.

We don’t want to restrict people by saying that they can’t include adult themes within their work, but we want to be clear to readers that any content with adult themes will be contained within this Caribou Chronicles: After Dark section of the website.  So be sure to keep one eye on this page for further updates.

Chapter Ten

It takes a minute for me to register the pain between my legs, but once my body processes it, it’s like a small fire erupting through my groin and up my back. I cup my hands over myself as I crumple to the ground, making strange mewling sounds that leave everyone—myself included—uncomfortable. As I fall in a heap the rat thing—when did Ben adopt a rat thing?—smacks me hard over the head with the dull end of his spear. I try to cover my bits and my skull with my hands at the same time as the thing lifts his stick to smack me again. Continue reading

Chapter Nine

I reckon I make a pretty package, trussed up in spider webbing like a turkey for the table. Only my heavy boots are poking out the one end, and my long beet-red face out the other. Two-dozen quantlings and more are carrying me above their heads into the undergrowth, and I wouldn’t like that situation any day of the week, but these guys are the world’s worst mail couriers. By the time they’ve bounced me off a passing tree or dropped my corners into swampy puddles for the tenth time, I can honestly say I wouldn’t even hire them to do baggage handling at the airport. Continue reading

Chapter Eight

Normally there’s something beautiful about early mornings in the country. The quiet of the forest, the smell of the dew on the grass, and breathing in the crisp clean air while enjoying a hot cup of coffee. The idea of a warm drink out on the porch is especially appealing on such a cold-to-the-bone day, or it would be if I wasn’t still in boxers and a thin t-shirt from last night. There’s water on the porch from last night’s rainfall, and the wood is slippery under my bare feet as I walk to the edge of the top step. Continue reading