Tuesday, July 19, 2011


Okay, I don't usually post stories on my blog, BUT, I need YOUR (yes your) help to win the cute little thing found at Michelle Simkins blog, here: http://twe.ly/wxob -- It'll sit right between my signed copy of TERMINAL and my crystal skull. So, please go to this site and vote for my story (if you like it). PLEASE! Thank you. Now, enjoy the story (it's free):



If he need sit any longer, they’d better find him a cot. Damn his ass hurt—and just what the hell could take so long? An animal bite sure as hell shouldn’t take all evening.

The shadows, deeper now, seemed to mock Jake. The sun, pleasant and bright on their arrival, threatened to sink below the tree-line. And the tiny waiting room—the one with an even tinier TV and a fricken pop machine too loud to hear the TV anyway—offered little to preserve the small bit of sunlight.

“Yer gonna need to be patient,” the cranky old nurse had said, early on. “There’s been a small complication…nothin’ to worry yourself about.” And Jake wondered why the old crone hadn’t retired yet—and why the hell she kept itching at her ass cheek. Instead of staring at her cigarette-wrinkled-upper-lip and her thinning gray hair, maybe he should’ve asked her what kind of complication his girlfriend had. But he didn’t—and he hadn’t seen a soul since. Not one damn white-smocked nurse.

For the tenth time, Jake wadded up a Snicker’s wrapper and tried to hit the ridiculously small trash can.

The wrapper missed, lilted off the side of the can and careened toward the white-tiled hallway.

When he went to retrieve the stray, Jake stared at the white and red emergency-room door. Nobody had come or gone from it in over an hour. Sure, a small town, Jake got that, but an hour? Just maybe nobody else decided to get hurt or sick today, but he found that highly convenient.

Jake paced and tried to sneak nonchalant glances through the small square window. The window, hard to see through to begin with, harbored a set of smudges which rendered seeing through it nearly impossible. And just what the hell was that white shit in the corner of the window? Had it been there before? Jack didn’t think so. He eyeballed it from where he stood and couldn’t decide if it consisted of cotton or something else—yarn maybe.

He crept closer. Ice spiders wriggled their way up his spine, his neck, and then finally his scalp came alive with the little electric pulses. “What the fuck?” he whispered to nobody.

The door swung open easy enough. A cool breeze hissed out past Jake like an unsealed vacuum. And then the stench hit him—something like mildew and blood. He expected to see moths flutter about in the musty din.

But all remained quiet—calm before a storm.

Bits of what looked like material, tiny chunks of yarn, lay strewn across the floor of the emergency-room and disappeared behind the lone examination table like a trail of bread crumbs.

Jake crept closer, following the trail, the stench building in his nostrils. He thought briefly about plugging his nose, but the smell, pleasant now, soothed his frayed nerves, lulled him like the gentle swing of a rocking horse.

And then a quiet moan brought Jake back from his burgeoning nirvana. The soft gasp sounded weak yet alive, satisfied somehow, like dead leaves settling after a fall rainstorm, or earthworms sucking back into the sanctity of their holes, damp and natural—guttural.

Then a scraping noise—a shoe on tile. More soft moans cascaded. This time Jake thought he noticed a note of pleasure in the breathy rasp. “Hello?”

A sigh, then, “Here…right here behind the table. No hurry.”

Jake noticed a white shoe sticking out from behind. It rocked back and forth in a rhythmic motion. He walked over slowly, curious, but not wanting to interrupt anyone’s good time. Better not be his girlfriend down there with one of them fancy-pants docs!

More sighs.

With a bit more calm than he felt, Jake leaned over—and stared. “What the hell?” Down below, on the cold floor, the old crone of a nurse lay there fingering a gash in her throat like it was her clitoris. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

The nurse glanced up with a dreamy look. “I suspect I’m dying…but…but what a way to go…”

“Who did this to you?” Jake felt a chill in his belly.

“Not a who, dear,” she moaned.


“Exactly—a what,” she muttered, still preoccupied with the bloody hole in her neck. Blood pooled below her on the white tile, soaking into her hair like an old mop.

“Okay—okay, what did this to you?” he asked. “And where’s my girlfriend!”

“The most darling little thing you ever saw!”

Then Jake noticed the little pieces of green yarn all over the old crone’s neck. What was it?”

The nurse stuck her finger a bit deeper into the wound, blood spilling quicker to the floor. “You’ll see. And you’ll be all the better for it—right through there.” She pointed toward a solid steel door. “You’ll probably find your girl in there too, although I’d wager she ain’t yours no more. No way you can compete with that cozy little bundle.”

Jake, without hesitation, scared now, raced to the door and pulled it open. Before him on the floor, between an office chair and an old metal desk, his girlfriend lay naked on the tile. On top of her belly, some kind of knit creature, a stuffed rabbit, jumped up and down.

The rabbit, no a bunny, he was sure it was a bunny and not a rabbit, appeared to be made of yarn. One yarn eyeball hung down out of its socket, looking like one of those snappers the kids used to play with. Red stuffing bled out of the thing’s right ear, left paw, and neck.

His girlfriend, bleeding profusely where the bunny had taken a bite out of her inner thigh, squealed. “Oh, Jake, can we take it home?”

Jake stared, nodded, then shrugged. Why the fuck not? The thing was cute as hell.

The bunny leaped off Jake’s girl and stood before him. It opened its mouth and hissed softly, arms spread wide, “Come…Zombunny wants to love you!"

Friday, July 8, 2011


Blogged by popular demand: the recipe for Writer’s Slush! Oh yeah, guaranteed to make you a better writer…or, at the very least, make you not give a shit if you suck.

It drinks better in the hot summer months, but alcohol is alcohol, right? Drink it whenever the fuck you want!


6 C’s H2O

½ C Sugar

1 can frozen OJ

1 can frozen Lemonade

½ can frozen grapefruit juice

1 tsp powdered/unsweetened ice tea mix

2 C’s Vodka or Brandy

Heat water and sugar (in a big pot) until sugar dissolves (do not boil, God NO; we don’t wanna ever boil the alcohol—it’ll go bye-bye. *Tears*)

Then add everything else (except the alcohol) and stir the shit around ‘til it’s all melted and mixed together into one big liquid concoction.

And now for the best part: add the Vodka or Brandy. Stir it all around some more…get it good and blended!

Pour the whole conglomeration into an ice-cream pail (it will fill it to the top) and put in freezer for 28 hrs. Now, I know, when you’re all geared up, it’s hard to wait the 28 hrs, but it’s worth it…so do it. Have some willpower for goodness sakes!

Enjoy, my friends! And, for fuck sakes, drink responsibly. Don't make me write a bunch of fricken small print...

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Writing In The First Person

Many people don't, but I absolutely love writing in the 1st person--a lot! And I love reading books written that way as well. The main reason is because, to my tastes, the protagonist seems to come alive so much more brilliantly. When forced to concentrate on the internal thought process of one character, said character usually turns out more dynamic and interesting, someone who readers can rally behind and care about. You can almost taste their emotions, feel their pain, and when they bleed we bleed.

But here's my predicament now. Along with RED STRAIN (3rd person thank the Lord), I am currently penning the follow-up novel to JEWEL in the 1st person. The protag is a female (Tracey from JEWEL) paranormal investigator. At first I thought I could pull it off without too much difficulty. I'm married, understand women, well, at least in theory, and after all everyone has the same kinds of emotions, right? Wrong!

Every good book has a degree of sexual tension. I don't care if you are the prude of all prudes or the king of porn, we all like sex. And if you say otherwise you're a liar liar pants on fire!

Anyway, you can now understand my predicament. What runs through a woman's mind when she's aroused, feels amorous, or otherwise just wants to tear off a chunk? For men it's easy; I can just write from experience. But I know that women differ. Some are simple to understand, others more complicated, and others, well, impossible at all to predict. So where does that leave me?

To help alleviate some of my worries, and it does stay true to her personality from JEWEL, I've made Tracey to be a tomboy. She chews, cusses, hangs out with men mostly because most women (according to her) are bitches or worse. And that all helps, but...

Any feedback from my female fans would be most appreciated here. My wife has been a tremendous help of course, but she is only one woman, and well, I'd love to see varying view points on how to handle this delicate situation. Because you all know what will happen if I don't nail this dead on (ahem).

So please, feel free to respond in any way you feel inclined. Please share your thoughts on the female psyche. Thanks!

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Novel Updates and Other Bits of Carnage

Another long hiatus, I know, and thank you to the many peeps surfing the social networking wave who pointed that fact out to me and got me back in the blogospherical saddle. I should be a more religious blogger, no doubt!

Some updates though--finally:

I am eleven chapters into RED STRAIN, my newest novel, which has been accomplished in only two weeks time, and so I am very optimistic of an April/May completion date (first draft). Somewhere closer to that time, I'll have the artistic representation and blurb posted on my website under the writing tab. Think zombieish peeps!

In addition to RED STRAIN, I am picking away ever so slowly at the sequel to JEWEL (currently being read by a major publishing house), entitled WEDNESDAY'S CHILD. Like JEWEL, the novel is written in the first person, but this time, I'm writing from the perspective of the opposite gender--very fun and interesting, have learned a lot! Stay tuned, please!

Shortly, there will be some exciting anthology news regarding my short story, VANDRAVEN'S TICK. I can't say too much yet, but soon...

So anyway, I got some stuff in the works, and will try my butt off to keep my blog updated. Thanks again for all who cared to remind me.