On June 18th, 2021 the world lost one of its most beautiful and creative minds. Dusk & Shiver’s Editor-In-Chief and founder, Crescenda Long passed at home from natural causes. Her desire to create and facilitate a community of likeminded writers and artists was her driving force behind this literary magazine. She was able to put out multiple issues and had many more ideas planned.

We are heartbroken at her loss and truly wish Dusk & Shiver could have become what she always dreamed. Perhaps one day it will, but for now it shall stand as a memorial to her work.

Her obituary may be read on the Dengler Funeral Home site, and her family has asked that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the Boone Area Library where she was the Director. It is located at 129 N. Mill Street Birdsboro, PA 19508.

Art by Brittany Lytle

Psyche Sound-Bathes on the Summer Solstice | Kari A. Flickinger
Sun growl does not discriminate
in the early morning hours of this solstice.

Lost and Found at Hotel of the Winds | Nolcha Fox
Dear Mrs. Carver,
Thank you so much for your kind note.

Unfortunately, tossing Mr. Carver off a cliff is not one of the services we offer …

The Letter | Apu
Click to view full picture

Beltane | Chris Collins
The sun rises red-gold over the cowslips. The green man shakes out his yellow green coat and walks into the year.

The Di Eithe | Rachana Kolli
Despite their suspicions, her work was too exquisite to drive her away. Surely, someone who could make such beautiful things could not be capable of such evil. 

All I Love Dies Alone | Leila Allison
There’s one entity not mentioned in the yeas and nays of my guest list, because she’s always around no matter how I feel about it.

Brianne & Tannet | Lauren M Crown
What was it? What did it want? What should she do? What would it do? She had never, never believed in the supernatural—but she wasn’t about to doubt what was obviously in front of her face.

Somnia | Niki Baker
Although it was summer his arms were suddenly cold, crawling with goose bumps. He pulled the lightweight duvet up to his chin and wrapped his chilled limbs around himself, perversely enjoying the sensation of the corpse embrace …

Kicking Up a Stink | Aviva Treger
I felt a prickle of guilt because I wasn’t particularly sorry. He’d been a nightmare to work for – I had no good memories of Felix. He was manipulative; vengeful. It was just like him to leave trauma in his wake.

The Campsite | David Hartley
The first thoughts of my child-to-be cannot be damage. What sort of a psychic start is that for a newly embroy-ed egg?

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