UTJT is Pregnant!

No this is not a metaphor or some strange allegory.

Rebekah Joy Plett, aka Marjorie Merle, Underneath the Juniper Tree’s co-founder and art director is growing a precious little monster in her belly.

Congratulations to Rebekah and her darling husband!!!

As you can imagine, pregnancy is quite a task and due to this big change in the Juniper Tree family, we have decided to suspend release of any further issues until Rebekah is ready to work on the behemoth of a project that is putting together UTJT issues.

This is not the end of UTJT. Let me repeat, THIS IS NOT THE END OF UNDERNEATH THE JUNIPER TREE. We are just on an extended maternity leave. 🙂

However, if you find yourself wanting to write a creepy tale or draw a creepy picture, we will still be running the website and will pick appropriate pieces to share with all you Junipers.

Please email all website material to tex.junipertree@gmail.com instead of Marjorie’s email address (junipertreelit@gmail.com).   

Love and Severed Toes,


Have a Merry Spooktacular Christmas!

Christmas is almost here! For those of us who are inclined to the more morose and grimmer side of life, here are examples of pop culture figures who celebrated Halloween in their own way.


The Addams Family

Emily the Strange

And of course, the denizens of Halloweentown from Nightmare Before Christmas


Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!

Eveline, by Julie Israel

Every so often, we receive works that we fall in love with, but due to limited space, we cannot put them in the magazine. Here is a poem that exceeds our limit for poetry, but we loved it so much, we decided to share. Thank you Julie Israel for sending “Eveline” to us! All of you may visit her website at http://www.julieisrael.com



by Julie Israel

The clouds a brew and darkness falling, one night I paced the graveyard, stalling

Where youths had grouped and aimed their boots at a yowling shadow under pines.

I quickened my step, halfway stumbling, and yelled and chased and threatened grumbling

When that velvet creature crumbling under kicks did my mind define—

‘Leave it be!’ shouted I; the youth did flee and mind define

A cat coal black and half-alive.


On this of nights, All Hallows’ Eve, I thought it were not wise to leave

The object of omens to painfully cry—much less of course, were such thing kind—

And so I took it in my arms, its frightened form rife with alarm

Its claws outstretched to do me harm or resist being confined—

And across the grounds it tore my arms to resist being confined,

Black as night and half-alive.


And when we, a pair, had reached my home, its desperate nails then ceased to comb

And rather tried my cottage floor—though wary, now benign.

I poured some water and meat retrieved, and of a sudden I conceived

Of the rose for whom I live bereaved as the clock struck the hour nine—

I recalled Eveline, her hair and eyes at the hour nine—

How dark they were when she alive!


Surely it was that shade obscure which shone within the black cat’s fur

That did thus plainly me remind of raven eyes and locks so fine

Belonging to my darling dear; but three days more upon a year

Have passed since love I buried here and to the graveyard did resign

To tend the gardens Eveline, and love and lilies did resign

To lend so long as I’m alive.


Memory of her in shadowed smoke consumed me till against thought broke

A shredding sound of sharpened stroke—a sound so frightening, I’d opine,

Its dragging were not of this world—and with all the blood inside me curled

I bristled and abruptly whirled; but it was only the feline

Scratching for some meat to eat—nothing more than the feline

Surely so hungry as alive.


With some displeasure did I then note the trails upon the wood it wrote

Where nails had razed the floor in stretch; and though upset, I did consign

That such was nature of the beast, and left it to its saucered feast

While steadily my thoughts increased of my passion’s ember, Eveline.

Not once in red-lipped porcelain sight did I remember Eveline

So vivid since she was alive.


This ghost I took with me to sit and stoked a fire in the pit

Whose warmth by which I reminisced in the chair where I reclined

When then the clock broke thought and lore by sounding eight the hours more

Though having rang not long before to mark the evening hour nine—

And I an icy shiver made, recalling that the hour nine

Had been her last hour alive.


But fool! Weren’t it only token that the clock were some way broken?

Why this terror, why this frenzy, why such dreading of malign?

By recent dark, it must be six—the clock, no doubt in need of fix,

Was surely only playing tricks upon this brilliant phantom bind

Which Eveline had o’er my mind tonight—a lucid phantom bind

Tempting the dream she was alive.


I drew deep breath and regained composure, thinking unease had come to closure

When once again the sound of knives put jump and shudder in my spine.

The cat again was pulling paws across the floor and flexing claws

Scritching, scratching with each draw and in the wood there carving lines,

The etch work as precise as headstone letters: carving lines

That herald slumber, and not a life.


‘Cat, my nerves you too are raking!’ said I, and set about to making

An opened chest its bed, thinking it would cease if to a pen assigned.

There cat I placed on piled clothes, a nook it seemed not to oppose,

For the kitten curled and tucked its nose with neither purr nor scratch nor whine;

Down it laid as the clock rang seven times with neither stir nor whine

As if in sleep eternal, though alive.


Now having found this first solution, I thought to check the revolution

Of the clock upon the fireplace—perhaps it only needed wind—

But what there was upon its art was reason for bewildered start:

As breath on glass a haze imparts, so too its face had foggy shine.

But wherefore creature breathing? I tensed to think this foggy shine

Could not be from a mouth alive.


Could it be the heated stream from fire below that made the steam?

The blush, of course, must surely be the heat and hanging cold combined.

This I calming entertained when screeching shrill a scratch sustained

Like nails upon the window pane as six chimes answered to its grind—

Alas, it was a tree on glass, and I was rash to fear its grind—

A sound from fingers not alive.


O curse the clock and backward count! Surely it was on this account—

This measured, hammer madness jarring—I could not tame this heart of mine.

I thought again to wind its back, perhaps some cogs and gears unpack

But now upon the breath were tracks in five thin slit and scraping lines

And the clock was tolling five alike, its face fog-marked with scraping lines

That looked as though from hand alive.


“What devilry is this!” I cried. And silence bare all that replied.

A sickly rising heat possessed me, and sweat upon my face outlined

The blood and fright through body churning—a nervous fear like hellflame burning—

While trembling, my thoughts kept turning to my lost—my Eveline.

The clock agreed by nod four times; this fever had my Eveline

Possessed when she was last alive.


And in this dizzy humid state there came anew a sliding grate—

But no branch brushed the window pane, and cat stirred not in bed assigned—

Instead it seemed the sound explored some place beneath the wood floorboards,

Making horrid earthly scores—oh how I hoped it gnawing mice!

When three times rang the clockly gong I prayed the sound was gnawing mice

Although I pictured hands alive.


This ghastly thought of course appalled, but then, the fever had recalled

The buried thought of Eveline, in all bed-ridden, ill decline:

Sweat-soaked sheets and matted hair, soft cheeks alight with raging glare

Till all the color went from there, and she from bed to case enshrined.

At two chimes I beheld in mind my Eveline in case enshrined

Yet blood-red lipped, though not alive.


What beauty still, dark tresses fanned! I kissed her paling, clammy hand

In last farewell and closed forevermore the lid on love divine.

And then, as though with rude unrest, the scratching clamored loudly, stressed

And startled me against the chest; the cat in turn gave startled whine;

The clock decreed a doleful one whilst cat gave startled whine

And wrenched my heart madly alive.


The scratch sounds now were flailing wild like tearing nails across wood filed—

And these I raptly traced to find, accompanied by shrieking cry:

The chest had fallen closed at crash—against shut lid the cat made slash,

And fought its latched entrap with thrash—and when the clock hands had aligned

At twelve to count a mourning knell, I knew those clock hands had aligned

For Eveline—she was alive.

A Sticker Story. A True One.

A story (a completely surreal one, but true nonetheless):

I (Bree/Tex) was sitting at a get-together tonight speaking with a mutual acquaintance. When asked what I do for a living, besides “literary agent,” my role with Underneath the Juniper Tree came up. Except, instead of using the name of the magazine, I explained it as such: “I also co-founded and edit a macabre literature and art magazine for children.”

This person said to me: “Oh really? What magazine? I just recently heard of one like that.”

(Inside my head: “Well, it’s definitely probably not Juniper Tree.”) Me: “Underneath the Juniper Tree.”

Her: “Yea! That’s the magazine!”

Me: “Seriously? Where did you hear of it?”

Her: “I think it was on a sticker or something.”

Me: (stunned for a good few seconds) “Are you freaking serious? Was it in a movie theatre bathroom?”

Her: “YES!!!”


Not kidding, folks. I actually encountered someone who encountered one of our stickers.

Mind = blown.


Ps. Underneath the Juniper Tree’s MONSTER STICKER PARTY!


Halloween Costume Contest

October has arrived! That means it’s the month of Halloween. To celebrate, we will have a Halloween costume contest.

3 Categories


2)Most Original

3) All Around Best


1) You may post all October long.

2) Like us on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Underneath-The-Juniper-Tree/205816152785730) and follow us on Twitter (https://twitter.com/UnderTheJuniper)

2) Tag us @Underneath the Juniper Tree Facebook page . You have to like us in order to tag us!


Tweet your photos at @UnderTheJuniper

3) All ages are allowed to enter.


One winner from each category will receive a $10 Amazon.com gift card.

Get ready to get creative! We can’t wait to see how you’ll all dress for Halloween!


We would like to say that if any of you are interested in advertising in future issues of our magazine, please email us at sales.underneaththejunipermag@gmail.com. We are always on the hunt for advertising partners, including writers, artists of all sorts, publishing houses, public figures, and anyone and any business that deals with the macabre and obscure.

Statistics from our website show that 2-3 thousand people read and download the magazine each quarter. Your ad will receive prime placement and can certainly be designed by us if you do not have a designer.

When emailing sales.underneaththejunipermag@gmail.com, please request an ad form . Prices range from $10 to $60.

Hope to see your lovely business upon the pages of our magazine!

Favorites from the Friday the 13th

Thank you to everyone who participated on our Friday the 13th Twitter Party last week! It was quite difficult to choose some of our favorites–many of them just chilled our blood and we could definitely see the lifeblood of stories living through them! Some of you submitted not only one, but two wonderful 13-word sentences! We would like to share these wonderful contributions here.

#13WordHorror When my blood misted the dolls’ faces, I knew she had killed me. @UnderTheJuniper

#13WordHorror I swung from a tree, blood dribbling past the rope around my ankles. @UnderTheJuniper

#13wordhorror Nobody noticed the blood in the wineglasses until after they toasted, and swallowed. @UnderTheJuniper

Okay okay one more #13WordHorror: As my blood drained, the thing asked casually, “Why are you leaking, human?” @UnderTheJuniper

His blood, becoming sentient and hungry began to slowly eat him from inside. #13wordhorror @UnderTheJuniper

A blood red eye looked back at me from the dark rearview mirror. #13wordhorror @UnderTheJuniper #ICantStopMyself

They called him old school for refilling his ink jet cartridges with blood. @UnderTheJuniper #13wordhorror

So many rags. So much bleach. Even more Febreeze. For so little #blood. @UnderTheJuniper #13wordhorror

Sugarbear’s Shortbread:

1 Loaf Bread

3 Quarts Small Child’s

#Blood Heat. Spread. Serve. #13wordhorror @UnderTheJuniper

@UnderTheJuniper and another… #13WordHorror Her father fitted her with lenses, so she saw only kindnesses, never blood.

Bamboo and blood, such yummy stew, but what about YOU in the stew? #13WordHorror @underthejuniper

For whose blood you thirst, let’s kiss, afore your bite my heart burst. #13WordHorror @underthejuniper

.@underthejuniper #13WordHorror Chuck’s blood gushed slowly while he lamented; he had died like this before.

“And the little ones chewed on the bones-o,” she sang. Smiling. “Goodnight, darling.” #13wordhorror @UnderTheJuniper

#13WordHorror If blood be the music of fear, play it upon sharpened, silvery blades. @UnderTheJuniper

#13wordhorror The razor toothed clown’s balloons rose too high, burst, spilling blood over all. @UnderTheJuniper

@UnderTheJuniper The knife cut through her skin, only to find no blood at all. #13WordHorror

#13WordHorror He eventually began to enjoy the taste of warm blood between his teeth. @UnderTheJuniper

#13WordHorror His blood spilled effortlessly; as his life ebbed away, she thought, “how cliche.” @UnderTheJuniper

#13wordhorror Blood pools in my mouth as the thing crawls back up my throat @UnderTheJuniper

#13wordhorror Not easy getting blood stains out of a wedding dress, thought the widow. @UnderTheJuniper

#13WordHorror Wiping her twin’s last drop of blood, she smiled, whispering, ‘There’s only me’ @UnderTheJuniper

#13wordhorror Teddy licked the #blood from his furry mouth then tossed her bones aside @UnderTheJuniper

Bloody white fingertips work metal tools. Screams echo. The stitching and reanimation complete. #13wordhorror @UnderTheJuniper