I asked for some ideas for a series name yesterday. I’ve written some Middle Grades accessible horror stories and I’ll be writing more. They’re all short and I want a “banner” to tie them all together. These will be like Goosebumps but a bit darker.
To that end, I present my favorite suggestions so far. If you got one you think top these, you can add it, but it needs to be awesome! Thanks for your help!
The beefy detective slammed his hand down on the table for the third time.
Melanie promised herself she wouldn’t flinch, but she did.
“Who did you get the box from?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Her voice trembled. But hadn’t she? Oh good god, what had she done? She’d taken the stupid, fucking box from that creepy lady. Her bank account had the money deposited, or so the text had said. Soon they’d throw her in jail and it wouldn’t be Orange is the New Black or Mayberry RFD. She’d probably die in a filthy shower and all because she’d been-
“Focus.” The bark snapped her out of the reverie. “”Look, honey…”
“Melanie.”
“Fine. Look, Melanie, right now you’re not being charged. You’re no killer. Hell, the woman isn’t even dead. At worst, you screwed the pooch. You’re young and cute. The DA will likely let you go with a slap on the wrist.”
“I’m not being charged?” She remembered something she’d seen online. She could go. They hadn’t read her her rights.
“Not yet.”
“Can I go, then?”
The big man scowled at her. “You can, but if you do, you damn sure better stay where we can find you.”
She stood. “I gave the officer my address and phone number. I want to catch the creep who did this as much as you do.” She had held back a few details, not sure that they’d believe a story about a computer making her the offer or taking money to do it. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
As if reading her thoughts he got closer to her. Close enough that she could smell the corned beef and sauerkraut on his breath. “If we ask you more question in an official context, you better pray that your story hasn’t changed. Pretty girl like you doesn’t want to go to jail. The other jail bait isn’t all that you’ll have to be afraid of.”
She made a gagging sound in the back of her throat. She didn’t think she was going to throw up, but bile flooded her mouth.
He back peddled. “Restroom’s out there in the hall. Puke in there if you have to.”
She had already stood up before the second sentence started. She fled the interrogation room and managed to make it to the bathroom and spit out the foul mouthful before it caused her to vomit for real. Rinsing out her mouth made it a little better. She fished her phone out and texted Elard.
Come pick me up at the police station.
The text back was full of misspelled profanity and a promise to get there soon.
She waited outside in the cold, not feeling the least bit safe. Her phone vibrated against her thigh. At first she thought it was the phantom vibration she sometimes got, but it continued. She pulled out the phone and flipped it open.
Do you want another job?
She threw the phone down like it had grown eight legs. It shattered on the concrete.
Many of you know that the thing I like doing almost as much as writing is introducing people to new authors. As a result at the end of the week I’ll be giving away some fiction in cooperation with Jean Marie Bauhaus. Her book is called Midnight Snacks:
From the author of Dominion of the Damned and Restless Spirits come four bite-sized tales of terror. Jean Marie Bauhaus spins a mesmerizing and haunting world in which monsters roam the post-apocalyptic streets of New York, scavenging for their next meal, vengeance finds room for compassion in surprising places, and even the vending machine down the hall begins acting shifty.
Also features the novelette Eucha Falls, a spellbinding tale of Lovecraftian horror. It’s been a year since Melanie Fisher’s little brother Scottie disappeared without a trace, and investigators are no closer to learning what happened to him. Determined to get answers, Melanie and her boyfriend, Shane Campbell, journey to the site where Scottie’s car was found abandoned and burned — a strip of gravel road leading to the long abandoned theme park once known as Eucha Falls.
Melanie and Shane’s explorations lead them to a lost video camera. What they find on the camera is shocking evidence that not only was Scottie there, but that he had succumbed to some sort of inexplicable madness. As Melanie and Shane dig deeper, they find that the madness is catching. But is it really madness, or evidence of something much more real, and much more sinister than they ever could have imagined?
We’re also giving away Dead Ends, featuring six awesome authors and myself.
For this anthology I’ve assembled seven bloody, stark horror stories by myself and six other talented writers of horror and suspense. A sinister power in “In The Deep Dark” by Justin R. Macumber is overtaking men at the bottom of a West Virginia coal mine. A golden liquid sur-rounds a boy’s treehouse in Edward Lorn’s “Morning Dew” and its taste for human flesh is standing between the boys and safety. Reggie in Scott Roche’s “Power in the Blood” discovers that his thirst for blood can give him strength, but may cost him his soul. Philip Carroll brings us a tale of “Getting Even” where the wealthy Mr. Hasbrook must pay for his sins of greed and murder. Paul E. Cooley’s “Breakers” remove the broken ‘cogs’ from society’s machinery as ruth-lessly as possible. In J.R. Murdock’s “Breakup”, Ruby wants to leave her boyfriend Victor, but he wants eternity or nothing. Finally, Jake Bible reminds us in “Blister” that going to the doctor early is a good idea, particularly if your affliction makes you a happy little psycopath.
And we’re giving away not just one copy of each but THREE! How can you enter to win? Use the widget below to tweet about it. Leave a comment on this here blog post letting us know your favorite Halloween memory. Join our mailing lists (hers here and mine here). And follow us on Twitter.
The contest will run until Halloween. Thanks for helping spread the word and have a spooky holiday!
Continued from yesterday’s story.
Melanie stood in the chill air, rubbing her arms and generally wondering why she was here. “Five hundred dollars. Five hundred dollars.” She waited next to a toy store that had gone out of business about ten years pre-Brony. Nobody, sketchy or otherwise waited for her. “Maybe I got the location wrong?” She pulled out the folded square of paper, wishing she’d taken her brother’s offer of a smartphone instead of the stupid flip phone she had. The little gold star put her right on this street.
“Five more minutes and I may go see if I can beg a slice from Elard.”
Lights flashed at the corner. They were headlights, belonging to a relatively new BMW. She was no judge of what model it was, but it meant money. She stepped to the curb and waited, hoping she didn’t look like some towny street walker.
The car slowed and pulled to a stop beside her. Its window buzzed down. A woman, judging by the puff of perfume she got, leaned over. She wore a scarf around her head and a pair of sunglasses in spite of the hour. “This box is for you.” Her voice was one of those throaty purrs that made most men go weak in the knees, between Eartha Kitt and Kathleen Turner. It even affected her a little.
She held out her hands. “How do I get my money?”
“He’ll give it to you.” She put the car in park and stretched out with a brown paper wrapped parcel. “He always gives what he promises.”
She grabbed the box, noticing that the woman wore skin tight leather gloves. They looked like fine leather. Only when their hands brushed did she realize that they weren’t gloves. She shuddered and almost dropped the package. They both gasped.
“Don’t drop it for god’s sake.” The woman almost screamed the order, purr moving towards shriek. “And whatever you do, don’t open it.”
“Alright, I won’t.” She started to ask where she needed to take it when she saw the address. It was for some place here in town. And not too far away.
“Get it there in the next thirty minutes or don’t bother. And put it in the person’s hands.”
She started to ask how the man would know when she’d done it. The window buzzed up and the car actually squaled tires as it moved away from the curb. Melanie took a step back and looked at the package’s address. “Two-thirty Healy Boulevard. That’s at least a mile away.” The address seemed familiar. She started walking, thankful that everything had so far been in walking distance. She didn’t have a car.
As she walked she shifted the box back and forth. It was about twelve inches square and six deep. She shook it slightly and there was a sloshing sound and a light rattle. It must be fragile. “Maybe it’s a liquor bottle. Got to be someone’s birthday present.” It was heavy, too. Maybe a brick in there to through the birthday boy off.
She took a left onto Healy. The address was only about a half mile down if she remembered right. Then she remembered what the address was. It was either the free clinic or very near it. She’d gotten her flu shot at the clinic a month ago. She couldn’t remember the precise address of the place, but she thought it was in the two hundreds. She stopped when she saw two-ten and saw that the free clinic was two-twenty.
It turned out that two-thirty was a thrift store. It was late, but she could see that there was a light on inside. She put the box down and started to knock. Then the first misgiving kicked in. What if it’s some kind of practical joke? She wouldn’t get her money and someone would be pissed at her. “I should just knock and run.” Then she remembered the woman’s words. She had to put it in the person’s hands. If it wasn’t a joke, she wouldn’t get her money.
She picked up the box and held it underneath with her right hand. She knocked with her left.
“We’re closed.” A muffled voice yelled from the other side.
“I have a package for you.”
There was a pause. “We don’t take deliveries at night.” The voice was closer, but still muffled.
“Look, I don’t get paid if I don’t give this to you and I could use the money.”
The door opened a bit, a chain holding it closed. The woman on the other side wore skinny jeans and a tie-dyed sweatshirt. She had a nice figure, but had to be at least as old as Melanie’s mom. “Can you fit it through the door?”
Melanie held it up. “It’s kind of too wide, and I’d hate to break it. I think it’s fragile.”
The lady looked at the top of the box and Melanie could swear she gasped. “Damn it.” She closed the door and there was a rattle as she undid the chain. The door opened wider. “Give it to me.” There was heat in her voice.
Melanie handed it over. “I hope you enjoy… whatever it is.”
The lady took it gingerly. “I doubt I will.”
“What?” Before the drawn out syllable ended the door slammed. “Well fuck you very much.” She turned and walked a few steps away. Her pocket vibrated. She took out her phone and saw that she had a text.
“Thank you. Your money has been deposited.”
“How the hell did you get my?”
Before she could finish the question, there was a muffled thump and a drawn out, warbling scream from inside. Melanie spun around and went back towards the shop. The light coming from the windows flickered.
“Oh my god.”
Melanie shut the web browser in disgust. The Tumblr post that had been left up showed some guy’s junk covered in leeches. It looked fake to her. Good, but fake. Her brother had been doing horror make up since they were both in second grade. He worked at Weta now and she was stuck studying at state college in Pennsyltucky. She couldn’t be too bitter, though. Life could be a lot worse she guessed.
“Hey Mel, you want to grab some pizza?” The high pitched voice was not so high it wasn’t recognizably male.
She turned and saw it was Elard. The tall gangly sophomore wore a pink tutu and a cropped top. “Nice outfit. Aren’t you afraid of getting cold?”
He smiled. “I’ve got enough fur that it’s not too bad. So, ‘za or no?”
“I’ll pass this time. I’ve got some cramming to do.”
“Buzzkill.” He waved fingers at her. “JK. Talk to you later.” He flounced off to meet with the rest of the group.
For a moment she thought about giving in. Her stomach rumbled, but her bank account had an echo. She turned back around to the computer and was surprised to see a box had popped up on her screen.
"Hello, Ms. Rossi. Can I interest you in a money making scheme?"
She snorted. “Must be a virus. Stupid men and their stupid porn.”
"I assure you that I am not a virus, Ms. Rossi."
Her jaw fell open. “You can hear me?”
"And see you. That's a lovely sweater, though it looks a bit out of style."
She picked at the bulky beige sweater her grandmother had made. “Thanks. I… What the fuck?”
“Sssssh.” The librarian at the desk must have heard her.
The machine’s webcam had a green light beside it. Whoever this was really could see her. “So, how can I make some money? I won’t strip and I won’t do anything illegal.” She didn’t think she had the body for stripping, but still it always struck her as skeevy.
"Nothing illegal is required."
The browser opened and Google Maps fired up.
"Merely go to this address and someone will be waiting for you. They will have a package for you to deliver."
Common sense warred with poverty. “How much?”
"Five hundred dollars."
She hit the print button on the browser. The library printer whirred to life.
SHOULD SHE MEET HER TRAGIC END OR SHOULD THE PERSON RECEIVING THE PACKAGE MEET THEIRS?
Let me know in the comments.
Josh squinted intently at the computer screen watching every squirm and gasp. The stirring in his pants went ignored until he just couldn’t stand the constriction anymore. He fumbled his fly open.
The girl’s body was covered with a half dozen of the huge tarantulas. The guy that took the video said they were called bird eaters.
He chuckled as he thought about the “bird” they were crawling all over. He yanked his underwear out of the way. Before he could grasp the erection, a black box popped up on his screen.
Mr. Dewers,
I can't tel you how glad I am that you're enjoying my videos. They evidently excite you, based on your reaction.
Josh scooted back in his chair. “What?” The waistband of his shorts crept back into place, scraping his skin.
Watching the watchers is how I choose my next star. I hope you like leeches as much as this young lady liked my Goliaths.
Josh didn’t hear the soft coughing noise, but he did feel the dart at the base of his neck. When he woke up, he felt slimy trails on his skin. His screams echoed back from the glass walls surrounding him.
Spenser had wanted to get a tattoo ever since he read the eponymous story by Paul Cooley. It was a super creepy story, but it dug at something primeval in him. He even knew what he was going to get. As an homage to the author he wanted to get an image from the book, the sigil of an ancient god.
He settled into the tattoo chair, face down, and waited as the artist cleaned his arm and positioned the transfer. He felt like he’d put his face through a toilet lid, but it had a nice cusion to it. The floor was clean enough to eat off of, but it was nothing exciting.
“Alright, mate, I’m going to start. This is gonna hurt a bit. It’s gonna look fantastic though.”
“I’m a little nervous.”
The artist patted him on the shoulder. “Nothin’ to worry about mate. I’ve had customers fall asleep during. Just breathe and keep breathing.”
Spenser nodded. He relaxed as the needles began piercing his flesh. He’d always had a high tolerance for pain and he was sure that he was ready for what was about to come. It wasn’t nearly as bad as his buddy told him it would be. It still hurt, though.
After what seemed like not long at all, the sound of the needle gun stopped.
He opened his eyes and was a little shocked to see that the floor of the tattoo place was no longer white linoleum. It looked like sandstone. The room had also gotten quite hot. “Dude, did I fall asleep?” He tried to raise his body up and felt the chains now strapping him down bite into his naked flesh.
“No. You died.” The voice sounded like it was filtered through grinding boulders. “Heart attack. Boom.”
“This is a dream.” He managed to move enough to rotate his head.
The face that greeted him was something out of a nightmare hatched by the lovechild of Giger and Escher. Its mouths were filled with flakes of obsidian. “No. This is hell.” It raised a needle tipped dagger dripping with black ichor. “Now let’s get that tattoo finished. This is going to hurt. Forever.”
My friend Paul Cooley has a new book out. Unlike his previous books, this one is not self published. It’s put out by Severed Press, a fine purveyor of books like Jake Bible’s Z-Burbia series. I’ve been watching his process and it’s very interesting. He wrote the book this year and it actually got published THIS YEAR. I’ve more to say about that, but it needs to be a separate post. On to the review!
Under 30,000 feet of water, the exploration rig Leaguer has discovered an oil field larger than Saudi Arabia, with oil so sweet and pure, nations would go to war for the rights to it. But as the team starts drilling exploration well after exploration well in their race to claim the sweet crude, a deep rumbling beneath the ocean floor shakes them all to their core. Something has been living in the oil and it’s about to give birth to the greatest threat humanity has ever seen.
“The Black” is a techno/horror-thriller that puts the horror and action of movies such as Leviathan and The Thing right into readers’ hands. Ocean exploration will never be the same.”
The Goods – This is a book that is both like and unlike Paul’s previous books. Why is this a good thing? It shows his breadth and depth as a writer. This book proves that he can do a fairly straight forward monster tale (which this is) and bring his own flavor to it. It’s more “marketable” than his other works. Not to say that it’s better or worse, it’s just a bit more accessible than alt history/horror or Muppet VIOLENCE. His writing here is also a little tighter than usual, which is a requirement more of the genre. If he has continued success with this series and other books with Severed, it will hopefully bring more folks into the fold who will discover his edgier books. That’s a win-win.
The Black takes a few chapters to get warmed up to the level of action and violence a book like this needs, but it’s never boring. The characters are well fleshed out, especially for a book in this genre, and the monster is spooky without us knowing a damned thing about it. Once it does get going it doesn’t let up. There’s not a wasted bit of prose anywhere in here.
The Bads – Yeah, there aren’t any. I really can’t find a single damned thing I would change about this book. Except maybe to put my name on the cover.
Go buy this thing! It gets five and a half out of five tentacles from me. Yeah I can do that. It’s non-Euclidean or something.
This story was inspired by a photo taken from a collection of stock photos. Click here to see them.
Pa had been married to Ma for the last forty-two years and every year was better than the last. She treated him like a king and every year for their anniversary the gifts that she got him were hard to top. It wasn’t that they were lavish or expensive, but they were just perfect. He’d never been able to quite top them. It wasn’t a contest and every year she’d just tell him it was the thought that counted. Still, he wanted to get her something this year that she’d remember. He thought he had just the thing.
They finished their dinner and were sipping irish coffee. “Ready to open presents, Ma?”
She smiled at him. “Sure thing, Pa. I think you’re gonna love what I have for you this year.”
“I always do.”
They moved to the living room where the two packages awaited them. “You open yours first, Pa.”
He smiled and nodded. He’d tried the “ladies first” dodge nearly every year for the first twenty, but that was another battle she always won. He took the long rectangular package from her. There was a good heft to it. The paper was expensive, a dark blue and very shiny. He untaped one end. He’d never been one to simply tear into a present. Once the paper was taken away he held a heavy wooden box. Cardboard wasn’t good enough for Ma. The boxes her presents came in were almost always as good. The cedar smelled fantastic. He lay the box down on the floor and found the catch that held it closed. He flipped the lid open and gasped when he saw what was inside.
“Ma, this is too much.” The shotgun had been broken down into two pieces. The barrel and stock were nestled in velvet the color of the wrapping paper. The metal gleamed. He’d been given the shotgun by his own dad. It was dinged and beat up and he’d often said that he wanted to get it restored. The value was sentimental not just because of who he’d gotten it from. He’d also used it on one of their first sprees.
He took the pieces out and fitted them together. He felt a stinging at his eyes. They fit perfectly. He cracked open the breech and checked all of the moving parts. “Darlin’, I can’t thank you enough for this. I can’t wait to use it.” The person in the basement would probably be as thankful for it as Pa was. He broke it back down and set the parts on the desk.
“My turn, my turn.” Ma clapped her hands.
“Careful opening it. You may want to leave it on the floor there.” Ma’s back was always a bit tricksy.
She knelt down in front of the box and began peeling away the paper. Her brow knitted at the cage it held. “A rabbit? You got me a rabbit?”
Pa chuckled. Sure enough a huge brown hare sat huddled in one corner of the crate. The poor thing was scared, just as scared as many of their victims had been. “No, no. Think of it like the keys to a new car. What I really got you is what’s down stairs. It would have been too hard to wrap.
“Well, I’ll be…”
He could see the tears in her own eyes. She’d only mentioned it once, but he’d been paying attention. “I hope you like it.”
“My very own boa constrictor? How could I not?” She grabbed the barrel of the gun and swiped playfully at him.
He could see by the look on her face that he’d finally done it. “I’ve been working on its habitat for a month. It’ll have its own space down by the kill room.”
“You sweet man. I can’t wait to see the look on our next project’s face.” She motioned for him to stand up. “Thank you so much.”
He did and they embraced. “You’re welcome, my dear.” Years of marriage and scores of victims and he’d proven that he could still surprise the old girl. Evading the police wasn’t enough to keep the spark alive. The element of surprise was even more important to wedded bliss than it was to being a serial killer.
Fans of the blog will know that I’ve long been a fan of Jake Bible. In the spirit of full disclosure, I also count myself as his friend. So let’s get on with the review.
There is something in the deep. Something large. Something hungry. Something prehistoric.
And Team Grendel must find it, fight it, and kill it.
Kinsey Thorne, the first female US Navy SEAL candidate has hit rock bottom. Having washed out of the Navy, she turned to every drink and drug she could get her hands on. Until her father and cousins, all ex-Navy SEALS themselves, offer her a way back into the life: as part of a private, elite combat Team being put together to find and hunt down an impossible monster in the Indian Ocean. Kinsey has a second chance, but can she live through it?
I love, love, love giant sharks. The thing I love even more than that are stories that put a rag tag bunch against nearly unbeatable odds. This book is a bit light on the first, but it hits the second nail on the head. There are giant sea critters, make no mistake, but most of that action takes place later in the book. The focus is largely on the interpersonal relationships and some epic military action. I was a little disappointed that the book, billed as a “Deep Sea Thriller” with a picture of a giant shark on the front, didn’t give the beasts more page time.
With that gripe out of the way, I enjoyed the hell out of this book. There’s a lot of humor of the dark variety on display, as any of Jake’s readers will be hoping for. There’s also some excellent character development. Kinsey, the character mentioned in the blurb, undergoes a very realistic transformation. I enjoyed watching that and getting to know the other members of Team Grendel, the pirate killing, hunters of giant sharks. (If a book that features pirate killing, giant shark hunters doesn’t make you put this on your list, this isn’t the book for you probably.)
The pace moves rapidly. Much of the first half of the book is set up, but it’s entertaining set up. You need to meet these people and get to know them and it’s as much fun as the rest. For all of the fun, this is a gritty book, filled to the gunwales with gore, coarse language, and extreme amounts of gunfire. If that appeals to you then check it out!
I give this book four dorsal fins out of five.