My ZOMBIE can kick the shit out of your vampire

When is it too much? When does on person simply go through enough horror and finally sit their ass down on the side of the road and wait for death to catch up with them? For some of us the answer is NEVER! – We loudly proclaim that there is no amount of suffering too great for our indomitable spirit. We have endless energy and resolve. We can not, neigh, we WIL NOT be beaten, ever. Never ever. Ever. Never.

We say that sitting in our houses, watching TV or reading a book. We watch shows of the apocalypse, movies where the dead walk or some tragedy leaves the weak shattered and weeping while the stronger of our kind muddles on, always fighting, always surviving, always hoping. We can do that, we can fight endlessly, and we can win.

It’s easy to say from the comfort of our own homes, or some other safe place. It’s real easy to talk about in the local bar, as you discuss last nights episode of the Walking Dead, or over discussions of Books like the Road by Cormac McCarthy, or movies like Night of the Living Dead, Return of the Living Dead, or 28 Days Later. It’s easy, because we aren’t going through it. So few times in our lives are we faced with something so incredible that it tests our resolve. I’ve been in these situations before, and I can tell you it’s just so amazingly easy to lie down and die…

But some of us don’t. Some of us fight on, even when the odds are against us. It’s why we like movies about the underdog, the David and Goliath’s, 300 Spartan’s in the mountains of Thermopylae. We like to see ourselves as warriors who can’t be beat simply because we want to win more than the other guy.

What happens when the other guy doesn’t want to win? What happens when he just doesn’t know that he can loose? What happens when he is a brain dead monster that’s too stupid to understand your gun beats his gnashing, broken teeth?

Aim a gun at someone, they flinch, wet themselves, and sometimes beg. Point a gun at a zombie and it just keeps coming. There is no fear of death; they are already dead. They don’t understand.  The only thing squirming around their brains, besides maggots and the occasional blowfly, is hunger. Some underlying need to eat parts of you, but not so much that you can’t get up yourself and increase their numbers. Hit them in the face with a shovel, they keep coming. Break their legs, they don’t show pain, they just move on, crawling if they need to, until the can get you in their rotting, brittle hands. They don’t need to see, or hear, so go ahead and cut out their eyes, take out their tongue and stick spikes in their ears. Torture them, Burn them, pour acid over them and watch the skin melt.

They. Don’t. Care.

It’s one of the reasons we like them so much. They are machines; killing and eating machines that just keep coming. There is one chance, and one chance only, at killing them; destroy the brain.

Vampires can’t go out in the sun. They are allergic to garlic. Wooden stakes kill them. Being decapitated kills them. Traditional vampires couldn’t even cross running water, and if they got too far from home turf they died, carrying grave dirt in their coffins to keep strengthening up. Now, the modern ones SPARKLE in the sunlight, and are so full of brooding, conflicting emotions they don’t know if they want to drink your blood or go with you to the mall and get a mani/pedi. WHAT A BUNCH OF PUSSIES!

Werewolves only have a small window around the full moon. They can be killed by silver, wolfsbane, decapitation, and occasionally get put to sleep in pounds across the country because people refuse to adopt, choosing instead to seek out breeders because they want “purebreds.”  When they aren’t on their monthly cycle they aren’t anything special. Sure, they need to shave more often, but outside of a rather hectic waxing schedule there isn’t anything scary about the,. Even the more modern werewolves that can change at will don’t, because they are too scared of being discovered.  Again; PUSSIES!

Zombies don’t care what you think. They are the Emo kids hanging in the back of the school, smoking some non-conformist cigarette, happy to be outsiders, happy to lurk in the shadows. They ignore their parents when told that they should join the football team or cheerleading squad. Hell, sometimes they just kill their parents for such a brash suggestion, eating around the soft parts that hurt more and taste oh so very good.

That’s why I like writing about Zombies. They are bad ass. They don’t like you; they only want to kill you. There is no reasoning with them; no sharing your feelings and telling them you’re tortured too. Fuck you. I will walk after you. Feel free to run because sooner of later you will get tired, and I won’t. Ever. Then, while your back is to the wall and you’re huffing and puffing I’ll emerge from down the hall, lurch slowly towards you, and drag you to hell, kicking and screaming as I eat your fucking intestines.

Now, I want to share a small excerpt from the second book in my zombie series.

“You know how to use that?” The cop called over to Jarrod, motioning with his head to the gun.

“Yeah. I’m a cop.”

“Good. Don’t.” The cop holstered his gun and opened the back door of his cruiser, reaching in and removing two axes. The handles were weathered, smeared with a dark, rust colored substance, the heads chipped and slicked with gore. He handed one to Jarrod and regarded Stacy with a nod of his head and the tip of his hat.

“M’am.” He looked back at Jarrod and smacked him on the shoulder. “The sound draws others. Whenever possible we don’t shoot.” He began to walk forward, Jarrod keeping pace next to him. “Aim for the head, hitting them in the temple if possible.”

To display his theory the cop lifted the axe in both hands and swung it like a baseball bat, striking the lead zombie directly in the temple. The hollow thud of metal striking a skull sounded across the morning, echoing off the mountains and fading. Blood, bone, and brains sailed through the air. A fine mist of blood splattered the blade of the axe as bone cracked and the head imbedded inside the skull. The dead man dropped and twitching a few times before remaining still. Watery gray and yellow liquid oozed from the wound as they cop worked the blade around, the scraping sound of metal on bone not loud enough to block out the moaning from the dead as they continued to approach.

While the cop struggled to pull the axe from the corpses head Jarrod stepped to the side and swung, striking the next closest man in the side of the head. The blade wasn’t perfectly straight, the edge angle up enough to cause it to skip a little on the hard bone before cracking through near the top and cleaving the apex of the skull off. The zombie took two more steps forward, its body jerking as the already limited brain struggled to compensate for the damage done by Jarrod and his axe. Finally, the dead man collapsed, and Jarrod twisted the handle, driving the blade deeper and pressing it into the grey matter. The stench coming out of the head nearly made Jarrod gag.  While he worked at removing the axe head from his victim’s skull the cop killed the third.

“Thanks for the help officer.” He extended his hand and Jarrod took it, smiling.

“Anytime.”

“Where you headed?”

“Little town called Amos. I used to go hunting there, figure it’s as good a spot as any to hide out while the shit hits the fan.”

It’s gory, depressing version of the end of days I am sharing with you. I like getting blood under my fingernails, and none of my characters are safe. I have plans for each and every one of them, and I hope you are there to curse me for killing off your favorites. Or not killing them off, or only kinda killing them off and leaving them to walk the earth endlessly as zombies.

Obviously, I want everyone to read my books. I want to run through the streets screaming about it, mouth glued to a megaphone as I disturb the peace, possible while wearing a pink, frilly nightgown, curlers in my hair, and slippers made of still living bunnies. I’ll endlessly put bright red lipstick on, swirling it around my pretty mouth while I shout “I’m Christian Jensen! BUY MY BOOKS!”

OK, to be honest I tried it, and the cost of my court fees prohibit I continue to try such marketing tactics. So instead, as a bit of incentive I am offering the following deal:

1.                          Buy a copy of my book ZOMBIES!…The beginning of the END on Kindle, Nook, or Smashwords,

2.                          Read it

3.                          Review it

4.                          Send an E-mail to mssproductions@verizon.net with your name, email address, and where the review is (Amazon, B&N, Smashwords)

When you have done those 4 things I will send you a FREE book. Not just any book, but The Bitch, my five star reviewed first novel. You will get a FREE .PDF version mailed to your in-box as soon as I substantiate your review.

Already own The BITCH? Pick any of my other novels and receive it for FREE.

            If you run another blog or review site and chose to review ZOMBIES!… let me know and I will send you The first three books in the Witches House series; The Bitch, Stanley, and The Evil Breed. All FREE, all via .PDF to your email address.

            And WAIT! It gets better! This special deal runs from now till the end of OCTOBER! On November first I will take all the people that reviewed my book and place their name in a hat, get one of my kids incredibly drunk, spin him around the room until he vomits, and then have him pick a name out of the hat.

            That person gets the first print copy of ALL 3 Witches House books, The Bitch, Stanley, and The Evil Breed sent to their door. PLUS the very first print copy of the Witches House Collection, complete with edited scenes, deleted chapters, and the first three chapters of the 4^th book in the series; Phoenix.

BUY MY BOOK ON KINDLE

BUY MY BOOK ON NOOK

BUY MY BOOK ON SMASHWORDS

So get busy. Spend $0.99 and receive a FREE book and a chance to win over $35 in more FREE books.

The Interview of Alyn Day

Today on the blog I have a very special treat. I got a phone call from Alyn Day, asked her a bunch of questions, and recorded the entire thing. I wanted to post the audio file, but I don’t know how. So I transcribed it, and what follows is most of that.

We talked about her upcoming works, her life, bacon-brittle, hookers, and trout. She mentioned something about stalking some mid-list horror author, meeting incredible people, and being a twitter whore.

Enjoy it, and get to know her, as she is about to become a very well known horror author.

Who are you? What do you want the world to know about Alyn Day?

I am a 28-year-old horror writer, a techno working, zombie loving, military brat, living outside of Boston Mass. Both my parents were in the air force, and moving around is what gave me the weird shy/social butterfly personality I hope people get to know.

Why do you write?

I started reading at a very young age. One of the firs things I read was Stephen King’s Christine when I was 5 years old. When I was 7 or 8 someone gave me a copy of Borderlands, and that was my first introduction to Poppy Z. Brite. That was the first time I understood that women could be writers.

Also, Thomas Monteleone wrote these incredible introductions to each of the short stories, and those introductions got me interested in being a writer myself.

I got away from it because I didn’t have the time or focus for it through college.

Then I got involved with an ass-hole ex boyfriend, and it wasn’t until I got out of that relationship that I started doing things for me.

Another thing is that both my parents were science officers, so they had the scientific background, and we had a lot of conversations about parallel universes and alternate dimensions and things like that. And when I was really small the idea of infinity scared me. I didn’t like the idea that there was just so much undefined possibility out there. When I explained this to my mother she told me to take a piece of paper and write my name on it. So I did, and she goes OK this is a piece of infinity and it’s all yours, and that moment really resonated with me, and I think the realization that I could create worlds and bring characters to life and create chunks of infinity that belonged to me, and only me, made me a writer.
So there you go.

That’s one of the coolest definitions of why somebody writes that I’ve heard.

Cool

I like that, it’s very fucking cool.

Awesome, thank you, thank you.

Outside of  Poppy Z bright and Stephen king and you’re parents, who is your biggest influence?

Brian Keene is a huge influence of me. I need to explain my mooshie infatuation with Keene. I work two jobs, and have very little free times, and when I do it’s usually spent in this little library by my first job. Their horror section is about 2 feet long and consists of dog-eared copies of King books, and HP Lovecraft. One day I come into the library and hit my favorite section and I see something there that I’ve never seen before. There is a new book with a bright shiny knew cover with a new release sticker in the horror section. I thought one of the little old ladies that worked there or one of the little old ladies that hung out there had accidentally returned the book to the wrong spot, because this just didn’t happen. But I checked out the book anyway and lo and behold it’s Brian Keene’s Conqueror Worms. I read the back and I kind of drifted to the children’s sections cause they had the comfy bean bag chairs and I read it cover to cover in one sitting. And that was the first and only time I was ever late to work (laughs)

After that I went home and hopped on Amazon and ordered 4 more Keene books. That was my introduction to modern horror.

I’ve always loved the greats. Robert block and Lovecraft and King and Laymon, but that was my introduction to the modern horror movement.

I hope that kind of answers your questions, I know went on a long rant…

No, it’s perfectly all right. It kind of sets you up as a Brian Keene stalker, but we’ve all gone that route at one time or another. He is a sexy man.

Stalker? Just a little bit, a little bit.  (laughs)

Then we rambled about movies for 15 minutes….

I admit being sexually attracted to Bruce Campbell, and she told me that she made out with him once… or something like that.

And then I continued with real, hard-hitting questions…

If you could do a biography about one living person who would it be?

Stephen King, I would say Brian Keene, but I don’t want to appear too stalkerish. He’s a close second.

Stalk away. You can stalk him all you want, this is my blog, not his. (laughs)

I have to be careful though, he just may read this.

He has been known to pop on here and read things from time to time….

I know! He mentioned it on twitter when you called him old. And he mentioned you on his website!

Yeah, that was pretty cool. I mean really, how cool am I?

Oh my god I literally squealed when I saw my picture up after Horrible Weekend. I was like oh my god, I’m on Brian Keene’s official website. Wow!

See that, you’ve arrived, your somebody now.

Yup. Now all I need is copies of my actual work and people to want them, and then I can die happy.

Well, lets get you a little deeper in before you die happy. Which brings me to my next question, what are your successes up to this point?

Actually meeting Brian Keene was really big for me. And Kelly Owen, Bob Ford, Mary Sangiovani and JF Gonzalez. I met them all on the same day and it was just an overload of awesomeness! I tweeted, because I’m a huge twitter whore as you’re well aware, um.. when I met Brian Keene I had made a comment about a Robert Block quote and Keene looked and me and he goes “that’s Robert Block” and I said yeah, and he asked if I knew that, and I said of course, that’s why I said it, and he goes “You’re awesome..” and I think I was glowing so much people around me needed sunglasses.

Writing is a big thing for me now, actually putting things on paper and doing things with it, being published…I’ve already mailed in my contract so I don’t know if that makes me officially an author yet…but actually having signed my name on it from a publisher is huge. That’s been a dream of mine since I was little.

Um.. and I am proud of myself for dealing with the situation from last year (bad relationship) and moving out here on my own and starting over, I was just really, really proud of myself for being able to handle it.

So if those are your successes what are your failures?

Wow, Um, I’ve been printing out my rejections on regular printer paper and I can completely wallpaper my bedroom with them, every wall from ceiling to floor, so that’s definitely a failure.

I disagree; I think that’s more of a success.

(laughs) well, haha, I lost count somewhere near 112, these a lot of them.

Seriously. There isn’t a writer out there, myself included, who can’t wallpaper their house with rejections, and there is a direct correlation between the people who can receive those rejections and keep writing and the ones destined for success, so you’re on the right path.

I will say the first one I got was brutal. My first attempt was when I was a young teenager, I had actually written a novel, and submitted to a publisher. I got back a form letter and there was a personalized note on the bottom that said completely lack luster and unimaginative. Try again.

And that made me cry.

There is negative in that, but also positive. First off, to get a hand written note from an editor is huge. Second, being that you’re a teenager at the time is a huge accomplishment. The fact that they told you to try again is a positive.

It was several years before I managed to try again, but try again I did, and I do plan on eventually re-writing that novel with my now 28 year old vision. I’m twice the age I was then, so…

That’s good, It’s about not giving up and working through it. I still have some of my rejections hanging in my office, that means something to me. It’s a battle scar; it’s a badge of honor. I do a lot of self-publishing now, but I still submit from time to time with varied success. Every rejection letter is just part of the process.

Yup, and I keep on trying and hoping for more and more success. Once I get more confidence behind me I’ll try again for the novel.

What advice do you have the newbie authors, the people who are just starting out?

Network as much as possible. Try contributing and editing for other people. Read everything and anything you can. Find things that inspire you. Surround yourself with things that will inspire you and make the muse come out!

Good advice.

I try.

So what does the future hold for youI hope more published work, more opportunities to dress as the walking dead, which I really enjoy, and I am really looking forward to my reading at Antho Con and I hope that leads to more readings and more successes. More networking, and I definitely hope things continue to go well with my new boyfriend, because that’s definitely going good so far.

Congrats on all of that. Say one year from, what would you like to see in your life?

More works published, another reading, and my own Amazon author Page.

Cool. What about 5 years.

I would like the novel to be finished, maybe not published but definitely finished. I’d like at least 5 more stories published, and I’d like to have at least one signing.

What about 10

2 novels published, a couple signing and conventions under my belt and I hope to be married.

Awesome. So what is something about you that would shock the readers?

I am a former pageant girl and I auditioned for CSI Miami.

Really?

Really.

How did the audition go?

I made it to the second round of call backs…so….

That’s pretty cool.

Then we talked about bacon brittle (?) – hookers, and trout.

She promised there would be hotness and bacon brittle at Antho Con, which interested me more than hookers and trout, although the hotness is coming from the very taken Mary Sangiovani, and to truly enjoy said hotness might just get me punched in the face. Thinking I’ll stick with bacon brittle, and perhaps hookers. They only punch you in the face if you pay extra, and I never have the money for that.

How would you like to be remembered, outside of bacon brittle?

For contributing something to the literary world, and I hope to have kids some day and I hope they remember me as an awesome mom.

So what do you want your tombstone to say?

Vini Vidi Verbum…she came she saw she wrote.

So there you go, fan’s of Alyn Day. Now it’s up to you. Write a comment, ask her all the things I didn’t, all the things you want to know but I was afraid to ask.

There is more to this interview, and if I ever get tech savy enough to actually download the audio file I will put up the interview in all its glory. There is over 40 minutes of it, included a lot of our rambling and giggling like little girls.

 Oh, and Alyn wanted you to have the following info:

Links to my blog: http://alyndayofthedead.blogspot.com/

my twitter feed:  http://twitter.com/#!/z0mbiegrl

And an interview with @Griffmoy: http://immaturemacabre.tumblr.com/post/7386568104/meat-casings-who-dig-horror-alyn-day

ZOMBIES!...Post 5: The Walking Dead, FREE books, and Skip

The Walking Dead premiered on AMC this past Sunday to 7.6 million viewers, which is one of the highest ratings for a regular season show ever. Ever. It broke records for the number of viewers tuned in to a cable program. The first season, which ended in December of last year, averaged nearly 5 million viewers per episode. That’s not regular, free TV. That’s cable. Cable doesn’t get those kinds of numbers. Horror doesn’t get those kinds of numbers.

It does now.

First a hit comic series that that has spawned graphic novels and books, and now a hit TV series on AMC The Walking Dead follows a group of survivors trying to stay alive after the zombie apocalypse. A sheriff and his family, his deputy, two sisters, a retired man, two rednecks, the token black guy, an Asian kid, an abused wife and her daughter. Not the paramilitary group you would think of as survivors. Season one killed off a sister, disappeared a redneck, and killed a black woman, to name a few. The season two premier lost us a little girl and got a little boy shot. Shocking, and not the kind of thing you would see on network TV.

Drama abounds. The deputy was having an affair with the Sheriff’s wife, but to be fair they thought he was dead. The surviving sister only wants to die, and tried to kill herself once but was tricked out of it by the old man. The abused wife is dealing with the guilt of what she has lived through and the hell her daughter went through Now that she is finally free of the abusive douche, her daughter goes missing.

And then Carl gets shot.

This scene raised the question "Do ZOMBIES digest?"

And then there are these little things called zombies, and they are walking around in herds culling the living, always growing, never tired, always hungry.

Food is an issue. So is water, medicine, supplies, gas. The damn Winnebago keeps breaking down. No one knows why there are zombies, or how to stop them. There is no government and no help.

If you think things are bad now, just wait.

Sunday night at 9 PM 7.6 million people tuned in to see The Walking Dead, shattering records and proving that America loves Zombies. Placing it around Halloween is a brilliant idea, but one more thing increased their success; it’s debut was the same weekend as the first book in my zombie series ZOMBIES!…The beginning of the END. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

Or, maybe I strategically put the first book of my Zombie series out on the same weekend as the Walking Dead. I will never tell which came first, choosing instead to let you, my dear and faithful readers, make that judgment.

“Note: In no way would anyone believe that The Walking Dead chose to open the same weekend as my book, so I regress. Obviously I jumped on their bandwagon, and to great success. Hundreds of people have been enjoying my book, which is on sale for the Nook, Kindle, and on Smashwords for only $0.99. If you haven’t bought it, I hope you do so now.

As a bit of incentive I am offering the following deal:

1.            Buy a copy of my book ZOMBIES!…The beginning of the END on Kindle, Nook, or Smashwords, by clicking the appropriate link to the right, under my book cover for ZOMBIES!

2.            Read it

3.            Review it

4.            Send an E-mail to mssproductions@verizon.net with your name, email address, and where the review is (Amazon, B&N, Smashwords)

KINDLE

When you have done those 4 things I will send you a FREE book. Not just any book, but The Bitch, my five star reviewed first novel. You will get a FREE .PDF version mailed to your in-box as soon as I substantiate your review.

Already own The BITCH? Pick any of my other novels and receive it for FREE.

        If you run another blog or review site and chose to review ZOMBIES!… let me know and I will send you The first three books in the Witches House series; The Bitch, Stanley, and The Evil Breed. All FREE, all via .PDF to your email address.

NOOK

        And WAIT! It gets better! This special deal runs from now till the end of OCTOBER! On November 1st I will take all the people that reviewed my book and place their name in a hat, get one of my kids incredibly drunk, spin him around the room until he vomits, and then have him pick a name out of the hat.

        That person gets the first print copy of ALL 3 Witches House books, The Bitch, Stanley, and The Evil Breed sent to their door. PLUS the very first print copy of the Witches House Collection, complete with edited scenes, deleted chapters, and the first three chapters of the 4^th book in the series; Phoenix.

So get busy. Spend $0.99 and receive a FREE book and a chance to win over $35 in more FREE books.

SMASHWORDS

Now because I am awesome and it IS ZOMBIE month I asked several of my friends to write short ZOMBIE stories. Today’s short is from the twisted mind of Skip Novak.

        Skip Novak is a contributing author to the recent zombie anthology named “Death, Be Not Proud” edited by Thomas A. Erb and published by Dark Quest books. The full line up of authors is quite impressive and features original tales from Gord Rollo, Joseph Mulak, Joe McKinney, Gregory Hall, Lucy Snyder, Rick Hautala, Steven Shrewsbury, Scott Christian Carr, David Dunwoody, Sheldon Higdon, Dave Brockie, Jonathan Maberry.

        This tome of delicious indulgence can be purchased from http://www.amazon.com/ and http://BarnesandNoble.com/ now go forth and purchase books and leave reviews. Starving writers and their families everywhere need your input!

Pat Tries

By Skip Novak

        Pat looked out the bedroom window of her three story town home and into her neighbor’s back yard. The sun was gleaming off the swimming pool and she was aching to get in the water and let the cool, soothing water wash away the stress of the work week.  Carl and Davie, her neighbors whom she’d had the honor of being the matron of honor at their wedding two weeks ago, were both lying in chaise lounges sipping cocktails. She could hear the sound of Beethoven’s ninth symphony blasting out of the pool speakers and she quickly started to change out of her work clothes and into her bathing suit.

        All three of them had been following the same Friday night routine for almost three years:

1.   Get home from work.

2.   Change into bathing attire.

3.   Lounge by the pool sipping wine or cocktails.

4.   Order Chinese food.

5.   Talk until one or two in the morning.

6.   Pass out.

        Every now and again Davey would invite a gentleman from work over to try and set Pat up on a blind date but those dates rarely lasted through the evening. Once though, one gentleman actually had tried to build a relationship with her. The affair lasted four weeks and they had actually talked about a future together, that is until she brought him to work. Then one of her subordinates, Eddie, had ruined the relationship for her.  God how she hated Eddie, she wished everyday she could have him fired. But, he had seniority over her and tenure with the academy.  It didn’t help either that Eddie had been employee of the month four times and employee of the year once. He was almost untouchable. And she hated how smug he was, and how he walked around joking and laughing with everyone… except her. He never joked with her and that pissed her off.

        Don’t let him get to you. She said to herself as she finished putting on her one piece bathing suit. She took one last peak out the window and saw Carl’s tall form standing by the bar mixing up a batch of margaritas. Perfect, she couldn’t wait to have three or four of those frozen concoctions in her stomach.

        “GENTLEMEN! START YOUR ENGINES!” her phones ringtone screamed into her bedroom. She walked over to the bed, picked it up and looked at the caller id. It was her brother, Tim.

        She pressed the talk button “Hi Tim! What’s going on?”

        “Listen Sis, I can’t talk long, I’ve got orders to get my plane in the air. Get out of town. NOW!” He said hurriedly.

        “What? What’s wrong?”

        “Just get out of town. Pack up some shit and leave. NOW. There is no time to waste. I’ve got to go. I shouldn’t even have called you.”

        “Where do you want me to go? What is going on? Is this a joke?”

        “Not a joke. Just leave. Jesus FUCKING CHRIST! Pack some shit, get in your car and head for the mountains! Don’t stop for anyone, don’t talk to anyone. Just leave!”

        “Ok, but why?”

        “Because I said so! Damn, ok… look… there’s been an outbreak that makes people eat other people. The doctors don’t know what it is and we can’t contain it. I’m flying half of congress to some fucking island. Now get the fuck out of town!”

        The line went dead. Pat’s knees gave away and she landed on her rump on her bed. She just stared at the phone in her hand. She didn’t know what to do. She had always listened to Tim, sure he was her younger brother but he had always been the most stable and sensible person she knew. She always sought out his advice and did everything he told her to do. But this… this was madness. People eating people? Some sort of outbreak? Why wasn’t it on the news or radio?

        She stood up and walked over to her window and looked down at the swimming pool, Carl and Davie were laughing about something and Beethoven symphony sounded so inviting. She was getting a headache trying to figure out what she should do. Should she tell her friends, try to convince them to go with her? Leave? Stay? She turned and looked around her room, walked over to her closet, grabbed an overnight bag and threw some clothes, shoes, her purse and the gun her brother had given her on her last birthday. Then she headed downstairs.

        She loaded her stuff in her car and was about to drive away when she had an idea. She got out of her car and headed to her neighbors backyard.

        “Pat! You’re here! Now the party can get started!” Davie exclaimed as she came down the cobblestone pathway.

        “Hey guys, I have to run up to the store for some things. You two want to come with me?” she said nervously.

        “Nah, we are in no condition to go anywhere. Carl started making margaritas around three this afternoon and he’s been making them pretty strong.“ Davie answered

        “We could use some more tequila though.” Carl answered as he got up to walk towards the blender. “Everything ok? You look terrible Pat.”

        “Um, yeah, I’m ok.  Just been a rough week.”

        “Eddie still giving you a fit at work?” Davie asked

        “Yeah, he doesn’t even talk to me unless he has to. I hate that. Look, I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to….”

        WHHHHHEEEEEE WHHHEEEEEEE WHHHEEEEEE!!!!! The afternoons peace was interrupted by air raid sirens.

        “What the hell!” Carl shouted as he dropped the pitcher of margaritas.

        “Shit!” Pat said and turned to run for her car

        “Where are you going?” Davie shouted after her.

        By the time Pat got to her car, she saw her tranquil neighborhood had become a slaughterhouse. Her neighbors were outside screaming at each other, people were attacking each other, gun shots filled the air drowning out the sirens and standing in front of her car was Peter, her lawn boy. His face was covered with blood and he held what looked like a severed leg in his right hand. He was grinning at her and gurgling up blood.

        “You… you stay away from me Peter…” She stammered.

        Peter answered by slamming the severed leg against her Blue HHR and growling at her. The leg left a splatter of gore on the hood and Pat knew she was in trouble. She slowly reached for the door handle as Peter started to lumber towards her. She felt the hard plastic handle in her hand but her sweat soaked hand slid right off. She tried to grasp the handle again while watching Peter, he was getting closer and his mouth was mimicking eating motions while an unearthly guttural noise came non-stop from his throat.

        “Ppppetttterr… you just stop rrrriigght there.” She stammered and finally felt the door handle in her grip and she pulled it as hard as she could. The door opened quickly and hit her in her left hip sending her sprawling on the ground.

        “uuuuhhhhhnnnnnn….uuuuuhhhhnnnn….” she heard over her head from where shy lay. She glanced over her right shoulder and saw Peter was only a couple feet away leaning towards her. She tried to roll under her car but hit her temple against the sharp edge of the door and passed out.

        Pat woke up for a split second and realized she was being drug into her neighbor’s back yard, she could see Carl’s thin, pasty, hairy leg and she could smell the Bullfrog sun block…

        Carl smelled delicious.

As always please leave comments, let me know what you think, say hi, tell me i suck, or that i don't suck, whatever. Just please tell me something.

ZOMBIES!...Post 4

ZOMBIES!… The beginning of the END is here, undead, and available for sale on:

Amazon.com            

Barnesandnoble.com

Smashwords.com

It’s a tale of undead carnage, violently graphic and fast paced.

Follow two groups of survivors as they struggle to stay alive. Society is gone, and fighting off the walking dead is the worse part of the apocalypse. Roving bands of marauders hunt, taking what they please by brute force.

Can these two groups band together, forming a haven for the living, or will their differences and personal agendas tear everything apart?

So that’s the sell copy, more or less.

But since we’re all friends here is the real scoop; I’ve always loved horror. It’s been my first and biggest calling as a writer, a voice that will never be silenced. I have been meaning to get back to my roots, so to speak, and write a good old fashioned horror book. It’s been a long time in the making, and let me tell you this was one of the hardest books I’ve written to date. It took several false starts before the characters would talk to me, but talk they finally did. Now I can’t get the voices to shut the fuck up, which is a very, very good thing.

I’ve been writing erotica for the past eight months now, and making some pretty decent money off it. I consider that my bread and butter, constantly putting short books and collections out. Honestly I have done pretty well, and since it’s something I enjoy doing my work doesn’t feel like work. But all the time that I am writing my sex scenes and working the stories out and building the characters I feel like something is missing. No one dies, there is no blood (well, sometimes a little…heehee), and the concept of a monster, although sometimes introduced as a werewolf or vampire but always in the context of erotica, is muddled and not very scary.

I have deleted hundreds of accidental scenes in which something horrible happens. I can’t say that it feels false, because I do love erotica, but it doesn’t feel like home, if you know what I mean.

Writing about zombies over the past couple weeks has felt like coming home. I’m happy to be here, and based on the initial sales numbers other people are happy to have me back.

Halloween is right around the corner, ghost and goblins and witches and werewolves abound, scaring people, stealing their candy, covering their houses and bushes in toilet paper, and of course slaughtering the innocent in the name of the dark lord Satan. It’s a time to be scared and to celebrate death and the thin veil between the living in the dead. It’s a time to sacrifice, slaughter, maim, and cannibalize. It’s a fucking HOLIDAY people, celebrate.

Here is something different that I have done for the month of October: My Book ZOMBIES!… is on sale for ONLY $0.99 – and will remain at this ridiculously low price through the month.

Also, I will be adding one volume per week throughout the month, and each of them will be on sale for ONLY $0.99 throughout October as well.

In November ZOMBIES!… will go back to the regular price of $2.99, except for the collection of the first five books, which will be on sale for $7.99 – After the first five books in the series are done I am going to continue writing this series, although not as prolifically, until the characters have nothing left to say, or I kill everyone off, whichever comes first. 

And if I may remind everyone; I am also the author of the 5 star reviewed series Witches House, The Chronicles of Rosario, Books 1-3. They are available on Kindle, Nook, and Smashwords.

A bit of exciting news on that front as well; Book 1 The Bitch is about to be available in print!

So hang on to your hats kiddies, there are big things coming.

Now, stop what your doing and click one of the links for the e-reader of your choice and buy my newest book, or my first book, or anything in between as long as I wrote it.

For $0.99 how can you possibly go wrong?

Next week I have a very special surprise: I am sharing a book written by my SON, Eric, who is 6. It’s about a boy and his dog, and a zombie. Of course it is. I’m so proud.

Thanks as always for reading and I hope you enjoy ZOMBIES!…The beginning of the END.

ZOMBIES! Part 3

An old man sits in the near dark, the sound of his quill pen scratching across yellowed paper filling the single room of his cabin. Outside the hewn log walls, the Pesnnsyltucky night closes in, the cacophony of a summers night in the wilderness suffocating. Candlelight reflects off his bald head, sweat beading on the shinny surface and dripping down his hairy back. The deep wrinkles of his pale face turn into a grimace, thin lips squirming around like malnourished worms. Firelight deepens the shadows of his visage, creating a monster more hideous than that of which he creates.

He is Brian Keene, and this is the rebirth of the great American Zombie.

Brian Keene - the Man, the Myth, the Legend

In 2003 The Rising was released, a novel which is considered to be single handedly responsible for rebirthing the Zombie craze. Two other Zombie novels followed over ensuing years; City of the Dead, and Dead Sea, as well as several other short stories and novellas, and even a short film based on his story “The Ties that Bind”, directed by Jeff Heimbuch.

Keene has been writing for well over a decade, selling millions of novels, novellas, short story collections, and comic books, as well as his contributions to anthologies. He is a very busy and successful man, and I think it would be unfair to say that he owes that success to zombies, however I also think it would be unfair to NOT say that Zombies owe their success to Mr. Keene.

I may tease Mr. Keene about his age (he is a whopping 10 years older than I) and a few other things, but in truth I am in awe of this man. He took something dead (pardon the pun) as zombies because he wanted to write about them, and turned it into a viable genre. If you seriously look at it, without Mr. Keene and his incredible novel The Rising there would be no books such as Apocalypse of the Dead, Dead City, or Flesh Eaters (Joe McKinney) or Hater and Dogs Blood (David Moody) as well as dozens of others. There would be no films like 28 days later, Shawn of the Dead, Zombieland, or the hundreds of others Mr. Keene probably wants no credit (or blame) for. (Seriously, Zombie Strippers? The movie starred a Porn actress and a mixed martial artist, although the premier Porn Actress and a one time UFC world Heavyweight Champion) *Note – Yeah, OK. I actually really liked Zombie Strippers. Why pretend to be high brow now. I do write porn for a living.

BUY MY BOOKS!

If he hadn’t written a little book about Zombies, the world would be a different and more boring place. We already have Vampires that sparkle and werewolves that are nothing more than misunderstood, brooding douche bags. Could you imagine where we would be without the festering stench of Zombies in the air? I shudder at the thought.

I’m dedicating October to Zombies because they are a personal favorite of mine. In conduction with the blog and my interviews and publishing other people’s short stories I am also writing an on going Zombie series, which will be available for sale on Kindle, Nook, and Smashwords within a few days. I plan on having the first part available by Friday, October 14^th, and yes, I know that’s this Friday.

I’ve asked some of my friends to write me a real short Zombie story, something I can put at the bottom of my posts so y’all don’t’ get too bored with my ramblings and history lessons.

This weeks entry is by Kat Dugger.

Half kitten, half vampire, and half witch, Kat Dugger slips unconsciously between full time roles as mother, wife, coach, and referee. An artist, poet, and creative soul, Kat writes out of North Texas nestled between day and night.

Sweet Music

                Three months ago, Alana created a memorial near the stadium for her boyfriend, Bradly. A small wooden cross was in the ground, a faded picture of him sat next to it and flowers, new and old, carpeted the ground. This was her special spot. As the sun finished its final descent from the sky into the western horizon, she held her head in her hands and cried for him. His parents refused to believe he died, because his body was not found. Alana knew he died. She heard his the gurgles with his last scream as she ran away.      

                Tonight, she had cried so much, her eyes closed from exhaustion and she woke, two hours after sunset. Alana stood, took one last look at his picture and wiped her eyes. The autumn air was cooler than normal, even for the small costal town. A chill swept through her as her feet shuffled slowly in the direction of her house.

                An odd feeling came over Alana as the hairs on her neck stood on end. A seductively sweet ballad tickled her ears and caressed her body. It was barely audible, howeve,r as it flowed from outside her and into her heart, the sax's growl grew louder, as if it were alive. It found her.

                The song tugged at her aching heart. As the music drew her to the source, to him, it teased her with its softness. The notes spoke to her of lost love, forgiveness, the want of a companion, of loneliness and desire.

                Alana found a small boom box in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. She knelt in front of it and swayed back and forth with the tempo. Her eyes closed as she remembered hearing Bradly play for her. She did not know it, but he stood behind her.

                He moaned softly. Alana turned toward him slowly. She gazed into the fading blue eyes, sunk into his skull. She took in every inch of him as chills covered her arms. When she saw his letterman's jacket, she gasped and knew it was him.

                "Bradly?"

                He stumbled and turned his back to her.

                "It . . . can't be . . . you. . ."

                Tears fell down Alana's cheeks. Bradly turned back to her, knelt by her side and wrapped his arms gently around her. She looked down at him. They kissed and his tongue parted her lips. She carefully slid her arms around his waist.

                Reluctantly she pulled from him. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her breathing came in pants and her heart raced. She did not see what he had become, but what he used to be, and wanted him. They'd never been together and now she wanted nothing more than for him to be in her.

                Her hands trembled as she fumbled with his pants. She was pleased to see that the decay had not affected his cock and it was hard and throbbing at her touch. Bradly hiked her skirt and she took him inside her wet pussy. Alana cried as he took her virginity, but moaned as they moved as one. Neither lasted long before they climaxed and what was left of his sperm crawled into her womb, like living zombie microorganism and started the transformation.

                Before she collapsed onto him, she whispered "I love you. Now, we can be together, forever."

                Bradly smiled. He lay her on the floor next to him. He put her skirt down and fastened his pants. When Alana screamed in pain, he returned her to his lap, pet her as she convulsed. Her eyes fluttered and quickly found his.

                She slid onto the floor in front of him, a smile played on her already decaying lips.

                "I knew you would come to me."

                She reached her hand out and wrapped it around his. "I couldn't live without you."

                Bradly helped Alana stand, her legs shook from the change, then her stomach growled.

                "Let's get you some food. I know where some really good brains can be found."

                Together, they shuffled their feet out of the warehouse, to hunt and live together.