In the Woods (A Poem)

In the Woods

The breeze is shaking branches, pulling roots,

Teasing dumbstruck whispers from my lips.

The sun is leaking through and casting gold

On leaves that cling with slipping grips.

I follow the great trunk that reaches up

Where its top tickles bloated clouds,

Then take shelter–with creatures rustling dirt–

From the eyeless stares of age-old crowds.

Among the fallen leaves, muddied with steps,

The old ones sleep; shaken loose before.

They rest on nature’s cushioned bed

Imprinting forest floors.

My skin as bark,

I watch them sway.

The quiet trees,

Standing tall

But weakly.


By Harry Husbands


Photo by Bee Husbands!

Ode to Ellie’s House Parties (A Poem)

Ode to Ellie’s House Parties

The time for singing, dancing, and drink,

Is gone with toilets flushed;

The careless fancy booze supplied,

Is vanished in a rush.


No natural coloured drink or food was had,

Nor puked upon the grass;

From countries far and wide we sipped,

Then passed around the flask.


The talk that felt important then,

Will soon all be forgot,

When waking with our pounding heads,

From far too many shots.


Through desert mouth and bones that ache,

Are gratitude and glee,

To know I’m welcome any time,

Amongst such company.


By Harry Husbands


Photo by Richie Drew!

Continue reading Ode to Ellie’s House Parties (A Poem)

The Next Great Horror Writer?

harryhusbandsJust last Friday I received the news that I will be joining fourteen other horror writers in a bid to win the Next Great Horror writer contest, organised by the lovely people at Take a glance at this page with information on myself and other contestants: THIS ONE RIGHT HERE!

For the coming months, we will be given challenges that must be completed by a deadline, supplying our best and scariest writing with varying word counts. At the end of the contest – in October – one lucky winner will receive a book contract with Crystal Lake Publishing. produces a podcast that will run alongside the contest. On Sunday I recorded myself giving answers to such questions as: ‘what do you love about horror?’ and I look forward to hearing the end result soon enough.

I’m very excited to be a part of this and can’t wait for the first challenge to be announced so I can get cracking with it.

I would be lying if I said that I feel deserved of my place in the competition though. Self-doubt has plagued me for a long time in all creative endeavours and writing is no exception. I don’t feel I could ever come within spitting distance of a title like: The Next Great Horror Writer.

That said, I’ll be damned if I won’t try. I’m going to be working very hard on my submissions in the next few months and even if I come dead last (which is a high possibility); at the very least it would have provided excellent practice.

Anyway, I’ll be keeping this blog updated as it all progresses, so thanks for reading and hopefully you’ll stick around.

Grappling With All This

harrysteinSo this is my website, not that I need to tell you that of course, you’re here after all. Try to think of it as a bud that will hopefully blossom if watered and given the correct attention. But for now, thar she blows, in all her mediocre glory.

There’s one particular subject that I’m not so keen on writing about and that’s myself. I have battled with this for a long time, in much the same way that I have struggled with promoting my work, be it in music or writing. I have made this website with the goal of turning a corner and flipping a leaf; hoping there’s self-development stuck firmly to the underside.

I want my stories to be read. Even by one or two people and I suppose that’s my motivation behind all this. It will be a strenuous journey for an introvert but one that I’m determined to undertake all the same.

If you’re reading this: thank you. I know how busy life can be. I also know how many blogs, writers, websites about writers, and blogs about websites that have been written by writers there are and so I really appreciate you being here.

If you stick with me, something cool might happen.