I stared awestruck and humbled by the Kraken before me that consumed the long shingle beach with a carnivores veracity, patches of golden sand and small rocks that tumbled and fell with each passing movement of this hungry maw, shells, small fish, crabs and all manner of sea creatures scrabbling to pull themselves away from this all-consuming monster that has no thought or sense but devours all that lies in its way with no cunning, no mind, yet with a strange kind of avarice, wishing all to be part of it, to be consumed by it.
In this way a man's doom was sealed and he faced his fate with acceptance, hopefulness and even with a thought of deliverance. The man will meet his own daemons, his own fears and will either be drawn into them or rise above them.

You cannot hear my hands clapping, nor know that they do but when Ray told me this tale many years ago it met with my derision. Raymond, Ray, Rob, no matter how you know him is not a liar. He tells me that this is all true and I believe him. Hard to believe, I know, but perhaps the greatest ghostly tale ever told.

Emanuel Burke. Author of "Tiny Tears" and "Whelp"

Sit back, feel the shivers creep up your spine, the hairs on your arms stand to attention as you can feel the fear. This is no horror story, there are no blood and guts, just creeping fear. This is a ghost story, in the truest sense. I love it.

Mark Brathus. Uncanny Tales. Magazine.