Tag Archives: Stephen Langlois

FLAPPERHOUSE 3rd Annual Halloween Reading, In Pictures

Our eternal thanks to everyone who helped make last night’s reading such a gruesomely grand evening: Stephen, Michael, Cooper, Jeremiah, and Deirdre for performing your flappy lits; Pacific Standard for the ever-gracious hospitality; and all you marvelous individuals who spent your All Hallows’ Eve with us…

Hope we’ll see you again for our grand finale reading, sometime in the Spring…

Our fiction editor Stephen Langlois tells his bizarre story “Man Crawls Across Parking Lot”

Michael J. Seidlinger shares an excerpt from his new book MY PET SERIAL KILLER

Cooper Wilhelm performs a gripping tale of culinary weirdness

Our Poetry Consultant Jeremiah Driver reads some of his own brutal & shadowy poems

Deirdre Coyle closes the show with a sharp tale of blood & art



FLAPPERHOUSE’s 3rd Annual Halloween Reading

Join us Wednesday, October 31 from 7-9 PM at Brooklyn’s Pacific Standard as we celebrate the season of the witch with our 3rd Annual Halloween reading!








facebook event page here

FLAPPERHOUSE 2nd Annual Halloween Reading, In Pictures

A million howling thank-yous to everyone who helped make last night’s reading such a deliciously dark affair: Lisa, Joanna, Stephen, Bud, Deirdre, Keegan, and Cooper for performing your flappy lits; Alibi Jones for your spooktacular singing & photography; Pacific Standard for your always-gracious hospitality; and all you beautiful creatures who came to witness our mischief.

Let’s do this again in January…

photos by Alibi Jones

Alibi Jones prepares to sink her fangs into Metallica’s “Enter Sandman”

Lisa Marie Basile gets things brewing with a reading from Nympholepsy

Joanna C. Valente reveals their true face & performs some devilish poetry Continue reading FLAPPERHOUSE 2nd Annual Halloween Reading, In Pictures

FLAPPERHOUSE 2nd Annual Halloween Reading

Join us as we bark at the moon & revel in the macabre with our 2nd Annual Halloween Reading, this Wednesday, October 25, 7-9 PM at Pacific Standard (82 Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn).

and the late SHIRLEY JACKSON

Admission is FREE, and you can get your claws on copies of our Fall 2017 issue for the special price of $5.

Click here for the Facebook event page.

FLAPPERHOUSE Halloween Reading, In Pictures

A million creepy-crawly thank-yous to everyone who helped make our first-ever Halloween reading such a graveyard smash: Cooper, Michael, Shawn, Joanna, Darley, and Stephen for performing your spookily flappy lits; the late Rod Serling for guest-hosting; Alibi for your sinister singing & stellar photography; Pacific Standard for their always-gracious hospitality; and all you beautiful freaks who came out to enjoy the show. We hope y’all have a Happy Halloween, and we’ll be back for reading #12 early next year…

(photos by Alibi Jones, except where noted)


Alibi Jones prepares for a herky-jerky performance of “People Are Strange”
(photo by Rebecca Robison)


Cooper Wilhelm terrifies us with a transcript of true-life horror


Michael Seymour Blake reads “Mediocre Company,” his haunted-house tale from FLAPPERHOUSE #11 Continue reading FLAPPERHOUSE Halloween Reading, In Pictures

FLAPPERHOUSE Halloween Reading

flapperhouse-halloween-readingHalloween isn’t just our favorite holiday here at FLAPPERHOUSE, it’s also our birthday! So we’re gonna celebrate & conjure the spirit of the season at our 11th reading on 10/26 at Brooklyn’s Pacific Standard by sharing some spooky & supernatural lit…

the late ROD SERLING.

(facebook event page here)

“Redfield” – Fiction by Stephen Langlois

1906FireA mysterious name turns out to have a sinister history in “Redfield,” Stephen Langlois‘ chilling short story from our Spring 2016 issue. (And now, you can hear Stephen read this story & chat with Ilana Masad on The Other Stories podcast!)

{ X }

FIRST TIME SHE SAID IT—well, it hardly sounded like anything at all. She was aside me, asleep. Her eyes were doing that thing–that rapid movement thing–and her lips kinda pursed for a second before going all slack like she was struggling to tell someone something real important. The second time it was just two disconnected syllables. Third time there was words. There was definite words that third time.

“Red field,” she was saying and what it brought to mind was like a field of thick reddish grass like what you might see in a painting of some distant countryside somewhere. That, or it was like a field which had caught fire—ablaze is what they’d call it—radiating a deep red hue there in the twilight.

“Redfield,” she said again and that’s when I understood it was a name. A man’s most likely. For a second my brain even latched onto the idea of another lover—like how in movies they’re always accidentally confessing to secret affairs—but there was a kinda fearfulness in her voice that made me decide otherwise.

I was wide awake by this point. Had been really for hours. It was the medication I suppose. The doctor said if we was to keep upping the dosage it’d start interfering with my sleep cycle and he was right. It did.

“You know anybody goes by the name of Redfield?” I asked her in the morning.

“Redfield?” she said, thinking on it for a while. I liked that about her. She was what you’d call a deep-thinker. “No,” she said. “No Redfield.”


Next night, though, was the same damn thing. “Redfield,” she kept on saying and it was like she was unconsciously –or is it subconsciously?—trying to issue a warning about this individual. It was unsettling laying there in the dark, listening to that. It was like maybe this Redfield was out there, leaning against the chainlink between the yard and Riverside Park, looking up at the bedroom window, just kinda enjoying the fact that someone was up here uttering his name with what might be described as a sorta dread.

“Sure you don’t know anybody by the name of Redfield?” I asked her over coffee.

“I know Redfield,” her kid said, coming into the kitchen in search of breakfast. “I know about Redfield anyways. I had a whole dream about him last night. His name’s Redfield,” she told us, “and he lives in a field. A red field,” she said.

Though I knew I weren’t supposed to—not after what happened the previous time—I decided to skip my meds. I was getting sick of laying awake after working my ass off all day and come eleven o’clock that night I pretty much passed right out. Stayed that way, too, for a good two or three hours before waking up like I ain’t never been asleep in the first place. I’d been saying his name. I knew it somehow.

“Redfield,” I said—trying it out like for investigative purposes—and I admit I was a little spooked by how familiar it sounded coming outta my mouth. It was like probably I’d spoken his name quite a bit before that night. Like I was trying to speak to him directly almost, a prayer you might say of the unhallowed variety.

“Redfield,” said a voice, louder this time, and I figured it was my own before comprehending it was the woman aside me, still asleep. It weren’t too long before another voice could be heard from down the hall joining in—it was the kid’s—and I tell you it was almost like Redfield was there in the house now. It was like our late-night utterances really had somehow gone and conjured this man a body with all the fleshy weight that came along with it, the unrestrained limbs, the brain matter sparking with what it is they call cognition. I could picture Redfield peering around the doorways into each room, envisioning to himself what sorta devastation he might someday bring about to this otherwise unharmed space.

Continue reading “Redfield” – Fiction by Stephen Langlois

FLAPPERHOUSE Podcast #2 – Reading #6

In case you missed our 6th reading— or if you didn’t miss it but would like to relive the experience in podcast form– you may now stream or download it through the Soundcloud file below!

FLAPPERHOUSE Reading #6, In Pictures

A galaxy of gracious thank-yous to everyone who helped make Reading #6 such a trip: WilliamStephenChristinaLeonaMazzaraJoanna, and Anthony for performing your flappy lits; Pacific Standard for your warm & welcoming hospitality; Alibi Jones for your sparkly singing & fine photography; and all you beautiful star-children who came to watch us boogie. Let’s do this again, say, sometime before Memorial Day…?

(photos by Alibi Jones)


William Lessard reads from his space-agey story “Transmission”


Stephen Langlois reads his unsettling short story “Redfield” from FLAPPERHOUSE #9
Continue reading FLAPPERHOUSE Reading #6, In Pictures

FLAPPERHOUSE Reading #6 / Issue 9 Flight Party / VOYAGER RECORD Pre-Launch Countdown

We’re gonna sparkle & boogie as we celebrate the flight of our 9th issue with our 6th reading on Wednesday, March 23rd from 7 – 9 PM at Pacific Standard (82 Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn).

Starring FLAPPERHOUSE #9 contributors LEONA GODINSTEPHEN LANGLOISWILLIAM LESSARD , and CHRISTINA M. RAU ; our fiction editor T. MAZZARA will read from his novel-in-progress; featured poet of FLAPPERHOUSE #8 & Reading #5 JOANNA C. VALENTE returns; as always, chanteuse extraordinaire ALIBI JONES will treat us to a song or two; and all the way from Tel Aviv, ANTHONY MICHAEL MORENA will read from his forthcoming book THE VOYAGER RECORD (Rose Metal Press, May 2016)– featuring a special appearance by the late CARL SAGAN!

Facebookers, join the event by clicking here.