Showing posts with label Horror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Horror. Show all posts

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Author & Character Interview: Zed


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Welcome to my stop on the blog tour for Zed by Jason McIntyre!

Zed, The Next Dovetail Novel
It’s the waning dog days of August, 1975 and Tom Mason’s in Dovetail Cove for the last few weeks of his summer job at the group home. His boss and the home’s owner is Karen Banatyne, one of the wealthiest folks in town. It seems like she’s got it in for Tom; she's the only one standing in his way as he scrimps for a new camera.
But Karen has her own problems. A regulatory agency might cut off her funding, plus her hubby hasn’t been seen in a few weeks, and she’s not saying why. Most ominous of all, it seems as though something’s hiding in the hot spring north of the main beach and one of Karen’s ‘houseguests’ is about to come face to face with evil. Tom is too.

Author Interview

What has inspired you to become a writer?
Inspiration to tell stories came early. I was the kid in the fourth and fifth grade sneakily reading Stephen King novels at 800 pages apiece behind my propped-up math text book. At eight, I was the editor of a short-lived school paper and we didn’t have enough content to fill the back page. I went home and hauled out my Mom’s old IBM typewriter to begin an epic serial about two young girls who are abducted by aliens in their backyard. I knew I had something when the other kids begged to know what would happen in part two. Alas, the teacher who managed the newspaper project got a transfer and part two of the saga never made it out. I guess, in a way, I’ve been writing towards the end of that tale ever since. 

How do you come up with your characters and how do you make them so interesting? 
I start in a very visual way. Without even closing my eyes, I can clearly see what’s happening and, as I noodle around on the ‘what’ of a story, I eventually start to form a visceral view of the ‘who’ in the tale. The people inside that vision have to become real to me, even before I start the first sentence. If they don’t then I don’t care about them. I have to care, or else I never haul them out of trouble. And, really, isn’t that what makes fiction great? Dumping someone you care about into a heap of worry and then methodically traipsing them out of said trouble in a believable and satisfying way. My biggest conundrum is when a dazzling or lovely person gets in a trap and they aren’t pulled out in time. It’s the biggest challenge for me — I can’t save everyone and, sometimes, a character I adore needs to die so that things keep chugging for the whole story. Forgive me, readers. I will kill again. 

What makes your stories and books different than other books you have read? Everyone has their own style, what is yours? 
I mix and match genres, influences and types of stories. One major thrust of my writing life is to never repeat the same kind of book twice. I want to push myself to unearth new and different pieces of myself as I tell stories. So while a book like ZED has companion books that have a flow between them, there are nearly a dozen different genres represented among them. One might be a coming-of-age paranormal while the next might be a murder mystery and then I may discover that the next works best as a straight-ahead horror. There’s noir and crime books and even a western. Now, do they all look exactly like their home genres suggest? Not at a glance. They use the tropes from each genre but usually in a new mix. They meld into something that, I guess, looks and reads like a Jason McIntyre novel. Hopefully, readers enjoy the journey through all the different places I like to play. Oh, and I hope they get scared and a little upset along the way. 

Do you plan on writing any other genres? 
Future genres include something that no one who’s read my work will believe. I want to write a romance novel and a deeply historical fiction that is true to an extremely ancient time period. As always, I want to have fun with what I write, and produce something unique that interests readers, but pushes me into new territory. 

Anything else you would like to discuss about you as a writer? 
ZED is part of a mosaic novel. The only other writer I know who’s written this kind of a work is George RR Martin. His mosaic comprised of books written by a dozen different writers all working within one world and telling stories about the same characters. DOVETAIL COVE works in a similar way. The characters flow in an out of the background of several books and the island setting is the same place, spanning a decade in the history of one place that has a succulent past and a lurid present. The difference between Martin’s mosaic and this one is that I’m writing all the pieces myself. Each DOVETAIL book stands on its own, with a distinct beginning, middle and end. But if you read more of them, the pieces of a much larger puzzle begin to fall into place. At present, ZED marks the fourth of ten books to be released. Others available now are BLED, SHED and DREAD. Look for new ones in 2015 and 2016. Getting to Know the Author as a Person What do you like to do when you are not writing? I travel as much as I can and spend time with my crazy kiddos. Readers and friends from social media will likely remember all the posts about the nutty things my kids say. I won’t even mention my wife here. She has her own cult following among my Facebook and Twitter feeds. I have built a lovely studio in my home and use it to write music, paint when I’m able and, yes, nap profusely when the spirit is not moving me otherwise. What relaxes you when you need to unwind? Creation of every sort is about the most relaxing thing I can imagine doing. I adore many forms of music and art and, when I’m in the middle of drafting a new book, it’s the greatest escape from life’s stresses. I peel back the page and transport to an entirely new place as I write. The process of uncovering a story is food for my soul. 

What are your favorite foods? 
I have always loved to travel and try new experiences and dishes wherever I go. Lately, I’ve been on a jag for Eggs Benedict and have been trying that in as many countries and cities as I can. Now, of course, lots of places don’t have that so I’ve broadened it to ordering eggs prepared in whatever style is most prevalent in the place I’m visiting. It’s really interesting to discover the different cooking methods — not to mention the different kinds of birds’ and lizards’ eggs that have been brought to my table! 

Have you ever had any paranormal experiences? 
I’ve had what I call ‘inconclusive’ paranormal experiences. Things have happened that, even after intense scrutiny, a rational person might not be able to form a judgment as to whether it was explicable by science or by para-science. Rest assured, all strangeness in my world (paranormal or just odd and intriguing) eventually finds its way into a story or two. Writing, I’ve discovered, has really become my own form of torture, er, I mean self-therapy. I write to understand the events of the world, of people and of my own life. Tell us anything you would like your readers to know about Jason McIntyre. I once shared a bottle of expensive red wine with a homeless man. The throat infection I developed the following week nearly put me in the hospital and my health insurance had lapsed so I couldn't get a scrip for antibiotics. I went through six tubes of topical Polysporin. Yep, I gargled the stuff five times a day until I could see straight again.

Character Interview

Record: 1974-03452 Subject: Zeke <Last Name Redacted> Date: August 31, 1974 Type: psychological assessment Method: audio cassette recording Interviewer’s notes: Zeke seems to be of below average intelligence. My understanding is that he’ll be given comprehensive intelligence and psychological tests upon admittance to a local group home care facility. - CF

Zeke, can you tell me how you feel about your family, now that you’re an adult? 
I got me no memory of my Mama. My Daddy, he and I didn’t get along so good. Now we have some good times. He lets me work with him. Least he used to. Now that Chief Birkhead come and get me and start doing his talks with me, I don’t know. I might never do the work with my Daddy again. That might be sad. What do you want from life? To keep my truck, wash it, and have it nice fer always. I only got a me few scratches and I buffed them out. I’d like to find a purty lady who maybe doesn’t care that my thinker bottle is cracked and don’t work so good no more. 

If you were granted three wishes, what would you ask for? Like a genie in a bottle? 
I saw that on a tv show once. I Dream a Genie. Let’s see. A shiny bufferin’ machine. For my truck you know. A new poker stick so’s I can reach way down deep into the sewers. For when I’m on duty and the trash pick up on Main street. And maybe, I dunno, maybe I’d like to take a train trip one day. I member going on the little loco-mota when I’s a boy. We got one on the island, you know. Lotsa people don’t know that but we do. It was fun. That big smoke stack going way up and making that big smoke in the air. It was fun and I’d like to get me on a train like that again. 

What three things would you take to a Desert Island? 
I dunno, I already live on an island. Dovetail Cove and a bit north of town is the only place I ever been. Hard question. Can I skip it? In your relationship with others, how are you different with family than you are with friends? Why? I ain’t never different with nobody. Same Zeke alla time. I hate when people give those fake smiles, you know? Or when they lie to you and you know they lyin but you can’t figure out what to say so that the lie is seen. Fakeness is hard. Same Zeke always. Scout’s honour. 

How do you fall in love? At first sight? Over a long period?
<inaudible> <muffled response> 

Zeke, can you answer? How do you fall in love? Does it take a long time or happen all at once? 
I bin in love a couple times you know. I like it when purty girls laugh. They sound so nice and when I make em laugh, that’s the best, you know. My Dad says I’m not supposed to talk about bein in love. Guys like Zeke, he says, guys like us, we don’t get to do that. 

What parts of loving come easy for you? Hard
Hard? Like you mean when dem girls do their laughing and my private parts get— <inaudible> No. Kay. Nevermind. I like the talking parts but I’m not so good at them. Making purty girls feel safe – I can do that real good. Really, Mister, if you’re gonna keep asking about lovey-dovey stuff, you gots ta talk to my Dad. He says I’m not supposed to talk about this. I got in trouble a couple times now. Chief said. and when I make em laugh, that’s the best, you know. My Dad says I’m not supposed to talk about bein in love. Guys like Zeke, he says, guys like us, we don’t get to do that. 

How do you decide if you can trust someone? Experience with others? With this person? First impressions? Intuition? Do you test the person somehow? Or are you just generally disposed to trust or not to trust? 
Trust? I don’t know. What do you mean, trust? Oh, I don’t know Zeke, I guess I mean, how do you know someone isn’t lying to you? I never really think about it. Don’t all Mommies and Daddies teach their little ones to tell the truth? Mine did. I always do. Everyone should. When you walk into a room, what do you notice first? Second? I was real good at re-doin floors. All kinds of floors. Tile and wood, polish and rug. I like to see how good a floor is and then I think about how I could do it better. 

When you walk into a room, what do you expect people to notice about you? 
Nobody should look at Zeke. My Daddy told me I ain’t supposed to look at nobody so maybe they shouldna look at me. 

Describe yourself to me. 
Me? I’m strong for my size. I can lift two of me, and I’m real good at looking after Main Street. Did you turn out the way you expected? The way your parents predicted? When I was a kid I got hurt real bad. My thinker took to leaking and I don’t imagine anyone knew I was gonna be like I am. But I can still get by. I do okay. 
 \
What really moves you, or touches you to the soul? 
Daddy says we ain’t got no souls. But if I had to say, I’d tell you. Purty girls. When they laugh. That’s what touches Zeke’s soul. 

What's the one thing you have always wanted to do but didn't/couldn't/wouldn't? What would happen if you did do it? 
My Dad says I’m not supposed to say. 

What do you consider are your strengths? 
My arms. My back is pretty strong too. 

What do you consider are your weaknesses? 
Can’t lift much with my pinky fingers. Or my baby toes. They’re the weakest, I bet. 

What is one physical attribute you are proud of? 
Physical what? I told you about my nice truck, right? 

What one physical attribute would you change? What do you consider are your weaknesses? 
Can’t lift much with my pinky fingers. Or my baby toes. They’re the weakest, I bet. 

What one physical attribute would you change? 
I put two new tires on the back when I saved up enough. I’d change out the front ones if I could afford to. 

What do you consider your special talent? 
I always do what I say I’m gonna. No one has to guess. Zeke always comes through. 

What do you wish your special talent was? 
Maybe if I could patch up my thinker. I can see the words. I know what I’m supposed to do and say, but it pours out before the words come to my mouth. Maybe like sand. Or water. If I could patch up m’ thinker, tha’d be good. 

What are you most proud of about your life? 
You keep asking me that same questions! I told you about my truck, din’t I? 

Is there anything you've always wanted to do but haven't done? What would happen if you did it? This question again. Where’s my Dad? Did he make you ask this one? Trine ta trick me, maybe. 

What's the worst thing you've ever done? 
Why? I have to go now, okay? I should get back to my job with the town. 

Describe your ideal mate. 
Please Mister. Can’t we just let Zeke go back to work now…? maybe. 

What's the worst thing you've ever done? 
Why? I have to go now, okay? I should get back to my job with the town. 

Describe your ideal mate. 
Please Mister. Can’t we just let Zeke go back to work now…? 

What are you most afraid of? 
 <inaudible> <muffled> Okay. I can’t talk to you anymore. Kay? 

Zeke, what's the most important thing in your life? What do you value most? 
<sobbing> Come on, Mister, please, you have to let me go back. I’m gonna get in trouble. I can’t do no more of your questions right now. 

How do you feel about your life right now? What, if anything, would you like to change? 
Pleeaaase! Let me go! <inaudible> *End of Recording   

About Jason:

JASON MCINTYRE is the #1 Kindle Suspense author of THE NIGHT WALK MEN, bestsellers BLED and SHED, plus the multi-layered literary suspense, THALO BLUE. His first novel, ON THE GATHERING STORM, earned a spot in the Top 20 Debut Authors for the Goodreads Choice Awards.McIntyre's debut novel, ON THE GATHERING STORM was VOTED as one of the TOP 20 DEBUT AUTHORS — Goodreads Choice Awards
Learn more and connect with the author at www.theFarthestReaches.com

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Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Book Blitz: The Forlorned


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Title:  The Forlorned
Author:   Angela J. Townsend
Published: July 21st, 2015
Publisher:  Crimson Tree Publishing
Genre:  Horror
Content Warning:  Violence
Recommended Age:  13+

Synopsis: 


When Tom Doherty first laid eyes on the lighthouse he knew it was damned.

An advertisement lured him to the island, offering a job renovating the old lighthouse and ramshackle buildings. What he didn’t know was that he was the only applicant. None of the locals wanted the job – no one dared.

Isolated and alone, Tom soon discovers why. Messages from disembodied voices; ghostly visitations and escalating horrors draw Tom deeper into the island’s evil past—a darkness that forces Tom to unbury the truth and bring demons of his own into the light.
The Forlorned upcoming movie release information can be found on IMDb at: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt4294968/?



Excerpt from The Forlorned by Angela J. Townsend:

The trap stood in the entryway of the kitchen, smeared with a thick glob of Peanut Butter. Tom sat in the living room and waited for it to spring. He’d take the rat to the opposite side of the island and release it. At midnight, he gave up and climbed into the chair by the fire. The tightness in his body relaxed and sleep overtook him.
Tom was awakened by his shivering only an hour after dozing off. He peered outside his frosted window. There must be a cold front moving in.
He added more wood to the fire and shivered under the quilt. The temperature continued to drop. He could see his own breath come in puffs of steam with every exhale. Exhausted and still shivering, Tom finally dozed again.
Deep asleep in the middle of the night Tom struggled, fought to move, but couldn’t. His eyes refused to open.
A sinister presence loomed over him, trapping him under like a heavy fish net, constricting his every movement, only inches from his face. Icy breath pelted his forehead.
Tom’s eyes snapped open. His chest seized with panic. He was no longer in the chair. He struggled to hold himself upright. Cold, fog-laden night burned his lungs with each gasping breath. His bare feet froze onto cold, wet wood. The crash of thunder and flash of lightning took turns adding to the torment of the night.
As if waking up from a bad dream, Tom stood on the deck of a strange ship. The massive vessel leaned forward and back, driving hard through the waves. Wailing winds and icy sleet tore at her ravaged sails, creating an eerie flapping noise. Tom’s heart pounded. Muffled voices of men shouted over the storm.
A shot rang past his head.
He struggled to wake himself from the nightmare but couldn’t.
Somewhere in the dark a man yelled, “Hold tight!” The sea rose and a wave washed over the ship.
Wrenched off his feet, he landed hard on the deck. He slid to the opposite side of the ship and grasped the edge of a rail just in time to avoid being washed overboard. A hot flash of pain seared in his back.
Tom rolled over and saw the men loading grape and canister shot into cannons lined up along the deck. Scrambling to his feet, he bolted to a man busy loading another round into one of the large guns.
“Who are you?” Tom shouted.
The man looked directly at him but didn’t seem to hear. Angry at being ignored, Tom shouted again, “What’s going on?”
The man looked past him.
Tom ran to the other side of the ship to avoid the salt-stiff rigging as it crashed to the deck. He realized the crew couldn’t see him.
A flash of lightning struck near the rear of the ship and he saw the pursuer, a massive frigate. Her great prow sliced through boiling black waters. An English flag boldly whipped back and forth atop her mast. Daggers of ice hung from her gun ports.
Someone grabbed his arm. He tried to wrench it away, but the hand held fast. He looked into the eyes of a young mast-hand.
“What ship is this? Where am I?” Tom yelled.
Lightning struck again, and the young man turned into a bloated corpse. The flesh fell away from his raw bones. A grape shot wound appeared in his forehead.
“It was hell, Tom. Don’t forget us. Come find us, Tom. Come find us.” 


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About the Author:


Angela Townsend was born in the beautiful Rocky Mountains of Missoula, Montana. As a child, Angela grew up listening to stories told by her grandparents, ancient tales and legends of faraway places. Influenced by her Irish and Scottish heritage, Angela became an avid research historian, specializing in Celtic mythology. Her gift for storytelling finally led her to a full time career in historical research and writing. A writer in local community circulations, Angela is also a published genealogical and historical resource writer who has taught numerous research seminars. Currently, Angela divides her time between writing, playing Celtic music on her fiddle, and Irish dancing.

Angela resides on a ranch, in rural Northwestern Montana, with her two children Levi and Grant.

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Crimson Tree Publishing Links:
(An adult division of Clean Teen)
Giveaway Details:
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Thursday, June 4, 2015

Cover Reveal: Spinner


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About the Author:
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Michael J. Bowler is an award-winning author of eight novels––A Boy and His Dragon, A Matter of Time (Silver Medalist from Reader’s Favorite), and The Knight Cycle, comprised of five books: Children of the Knight (Gold Award Winner in the Wishing Shelf Book Awards), Running Through A Dark Place, There Is No Fear, And The Children Shall Lead, Once Upon A Time In America, and Spinner. His horror screenplay, “Healer,” was a Semi-Finalist, and his urban fantasy script, “Like A Hero,” was a Finalist in the Shriekfest Film Festival and Screenplay Competition. He grew up in San Rafael, California, and majored in English and Theatre at Santa Clara University. He went on to earn a master’s in film production from Loyola Marymount University, a teaching credential in English from LMU, and another master’s in Special Education from Cal State University Dominguez Hills. He partnered with two friends as producer, writer, and/or director on several ultra-low-budget horror films, including “Fatal Images,” “Club Dead,” and “Things II,” the reviews of which are much more fun than the actual movies. He taught high school in Hawthorne, California for twenty-five years, both in general education and to students with learning disabilities, in subjects ranging from English and Strength Training to Algebra, Biology, and Yearbook. He has also been a volunteer Big Brother to eight different boys with the Catholic Big Brothers Big Sisters program and a thirty-year volunteer within the juvenile justice system in Los Angeles. He has been honored as Probation Volunteer of the Year, YMCA Volunteer of the Year, California Big Brother of the Year, and 2000 National Big Brother of the Year. The “National” honor allowed him and three of his Little Brothers to visit the White House and meet the president in the Oval Office. He is currently working on a sequel to Spinner. His goal as a YA author is for teens to experience empowerment and hope; to see themselves in his diverse characters; to read about kids who face real-life challenges; and to see how kids like them can remain decent people in an indecent world.
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Title:  Spinner
Author:  Michael J Bowler
To Be Published:  August 5th, 2015
Genre:  YA Paranormal Horror
Content Warning:  Mild profanity and language of a sexual nature
Recommended Age:  14+

Synopsis:

Fifteen-year-old Alex is a “spinner.” His friends are “dummies.” Two clandestine groups of humans want his power. And an ancient evil is stalking him. If people weren’t being murdered, Alex might laugh at how his life turned into a horror movie overnight.

In a wheelchair since birth, his freakish ability has gotten him kicked out of ten foster homes since the age of four. Now saddled with a sadistic housemother who uses his spinning to heal the kids she physically abuses, Alex and his misfit group of learning disabled classmates are the only ones who can solve the mystery of his birth before more people meet a gruesome end.

They need to find out who murdered their beloved teacher, and why the hot young substitute acts like she’s flirting with them. Then there’s the mysterious medallion that seems to have unleashed something malevolent, and an ancient prophecy suggesting Alex has the power to destroy humanity.

The boys break into homes, dig up graves, elude kidnappers, fight for their lives against feral cats, and ultimately confront an evil as old as humankind. Friendships are tested, secrets uncovered, love spoken, and destiny revealed.

The kid who’s always been a loner will finally learn the value of friends, family, and loyalty.

If he survives…
Pre-order on Amazon 


Excerpt from Spinner by Michael J Bowler:

They were in. 

Now to find the grave.

They had a map, of sorts. With the graveyard paperwork Alex’s mother had sent was a map that had numbers on it. Roy knew from his own mother’s funeral that those numbers meant the different graves. One area was circled on the map, and Roy had told them that must be where Alex’s folks were buried. All they had to do was follow the map.

Yeah, he thought, as they stood in a darkened graveyard looking at a paper map with a tiny flashlight beam, trying to figure out just where in the hell on that map they were, sounded easy at the time. Since he was the only one who drove, the others let him plot their way. But shit, he hadn’t been here since last year on his mom’s anniversary to put flowers and, well, that had been during the day!

Israel stood quietly keening with fear, his eyes darting everywhere at once, while Java and Alex waited patiently for Roy to figure things out. Their best landmark was a lake near to where Alex’s parents were buried. They’d have to wander around till they found it.

“They’re near some lake, and there’s a fountain, I think, so we should, like hear water splashing, right?”

Java shrugged, but Alex nodded excitedly. “Yeah, we will. Let’s look around till we hear it.”

They moved out into the tree scattered, grave-filled cemetery with nervous anticipation. Java carried the shovels because he didn’t trust Israel not to drop them if a gopher ran past in the dark. 

The grass slowed Alex’s wheels so he let Roy push the chair from behind to conserve his arm strength. 

Most of the graves were the small ones like his mom had, just a flat metal plate with names and dates on them. The wind gusted and blew leaves from the fading trees onto the grass, swirling them around their feet as they walked. No one spoke. The silence crushed them. Dark, ominous clouds only added to the horror-film atmosphere, and Roy wished he hadn’t watched so many of those movies at Izzy’s house.

The grass rose up into hills and mounds, all scattered with graves that they passed nervously between. Roy felt weird, walking on top of dead people like this, and he could hear Israel panting with fear. He was about to approach and calm the boy when Java stepped up and flanked Izzy, offering his own muscular body as protection. The gesture surprised Roy, just like the one atop his truck, given Java’s daily frustration with Izzy’s ADHD. But the move clearly helped Izzy, who looked at Java and smiled with gratitude.

The flat graves gave way to the kind with tall headstones by the time the splashing of water came from ahead in the darkness. Roy increased his speed. The tall headstones looked really old, and for some reason they creeped him out more than the newer ones, like somehow older dead bodies would be more likely to haunt them or something.

The splashing grew louder, and the wind stronger. It also got colder, and Roy shivered. Must be the lake water making him cold, he told himself, hoping that was the only reason. The image of that huge, evil cat crept ceaselessly into his mind as he pushed Alex toward his parents’ graves. To find out what? That Alex was a bigger freak than he thought? That he might destroy the world some day? Roy knew these things could never happen, not from Alex. But Alex feared himself even more than he feared the cat. And that broke Roy’s heart every time he thought about it.

The lake loomed ahead, not too big, but bigger than Roy could calculate using his body-height method. A jet of water shot into the air at its center and fell back, hitting the surface with the kind of splashing sounds he used to make in the bathtub as a child. 

Java and Israel stopped by the shore of the lake and turned to face him. Roy let go of Alex’s chair and slipped out the map. He squatted down so Alex could see and turned on the tiny penlight. Together, they squinted at the circled spot and tried to figure out which direction it was from the fountain of water.

After a few moments of bobbing his head up and down from the map to their surroundings, Roy thought he’d figured it out. He pointed to their right, to an older part of the graveyard that was a mix of flat plates and stone markers. “Over there.”

The others nodded and they set off. They passed nervously through the rows of graves. Even though Alex hadn’t said anything, Roy felt eyes on them. 

Lots of eyes. 

But every time he looked around there was nothing but the wind and rustling leaves and their own cushioned footfalls against the grass. 

I’m crazy, he thought, imagining dead people watching.

Or maybe it was those creepy-ass stone angels bending toward a grave, hands clasped before them in prayer. Maybe they were watching. Whatever it was, Roy’s skin crawled.

This was the section. He stopped pushing Alex, and the others stopped, too. Now was the part they all hated – reading. They had to look at each grave and try to figure out which one belonged to Alex’s parents. Alex looked at him and Roy whispered, “The last name starts with “O,” right?”

Alex nodded. Roy squinted at the paper and found the name. He could tell because there were two names in front of it and that meant the “O” word was the last name. He pointed to it for Java and Israel. “That’s the name we gotta find.”

“Are dead people, like, you know, laid out by ABCs?” Israel asked.

Java looked at him in annoyance. “Fool, do you even know your ABCs?”

Israel shrugged. “Some of ’em. I always get stuck around, like, ‘G’ or ‘P’ or something like that. I never could–”

Before Israel could start rambling, Roy whispered, “Just look for a last name starting with ‘O.’ Then we’ll check it with the paper.”

Java nodded, but Israel’s mouth fell open. “You mean we gotta split up?”

“Just around here, fool,” Java snapped, keeping his deep voice low and controlled.

“But there’s dead people here!” Israel hissed, his eyes wide with fear.

“That’s why it be called a graveyard,” Java spat, his temper obviously rising.

“Look guys,” Alex said, “you two stick together and me and Roy’ll stick together. ’Kay?”

Java grunted, but Israel nodded rapidly. “Yeah, that’s better.”

The two groups wandered off in opposite directions, each with a penlight.

Roy aimed his light while Alex slowly pushed himself between the graves. The beam struck each headstone or metal plaque long enough for both of them to squint at the last name, and then Roy moved it along to the next. He still felt that sensation of being watched, and it sent chills up and down his spine. The cold, biting wind didn’t help, and he kept his hood up and over his head to keep his hair from blowing into his eyes.

He spotted the other flashlight beam a short distance away, but there seemed to be no one else anywhere around. So who was watching them? Finally, he stepped closer to Alex and leaned down to his face. “Someone’s watching us.”

Alex peered out from his hood, brushed hair from in front of his eyes, and looked at him soberly. “Not someone. Some thing.”

Roy froze. “What thing?”

Alex shrugged.

Giveaway Details:
There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:
  • ARC PDF copy of Spinner (INT)
  • A mug with the book cover image on front (US only)
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Thursday, January 29, 2015

Spotlight and Guest Post: Suicide Forest

Suicide Forest by Jeremy Bates
Published December 14, 2014 by Ghillinnein Books
Horror


Suicide Forest:

Just outside of Tokyo lies Aokigahara, a vast forest and one of the most beautiful wilderness areas in Japan…and also the most infamous spot to commit suicide in the world. Legend has it that the spirits of those many suicides are still roaming, haunting deep in the ancient woods.

When bad weather prevents a group of friends from climbing neighboring Mt. Fuji, they decide to spend the night camping in Aokigahara. But they get more than they bargained for when one of them is found hanged in the morning—and they realize there might be some truth to the legends after all.

Book Trailer:






Jeremy Bates Bio:

Jeremy Bates is the author of the #1 Amazon bestseller White Lies, which was nominated for the 2012 Foreword Book of the Year Award. He has spent the last ten years traveling the world, visiting more than thirty countries. He has lived in Canada, the United States, Australia, Japan, South Korea, and the Philippines. Bates is a graduate of the University of Western Ontario with a degree in English literature and philosophy. He is an active member of Horror Writers Association, Mystery Writers of America, International Thriller Writers, Inc., and Crime Writers of Canada.





Links







Guest Post by Jeremy Bates
Top 5 Man vs. Environment Movies.

In Suicide Forest, a group of friends get lost in Suicide Forest—where they have to contend with the elements, among other things. Given the plot, I figured a post listing my top five man vs. environment movies would be appropriate. So here it goes:

1)      The Blair Witch Project
Yeah, I know. Some people are probably groaning at this choice. But this is one of the few movies that have genuinely freaked me out. This is due to the fact I watched it in the theater while I was teen working at some secluded resort. I hadn’t heard any hype about it, and I believed it was real found footage (as the found-footage genre was a novelty then). Later that night I had to cut across a dark golf course bordered by forests to return to my cottage—a truly freaky experience.

2)      Open Water
A couple go scuba diving. When they surface they discover their boat is gone, along with all the other scuba divers. Add to this scenario a lack of drinkable water, a lightning storm, and circling sharks, and you have yourself one hell of a nightmare.

3)      Wolf Creek
The Outback is big. Really big. I live there right now. You can drive for hours without seeing much of anything. Imagine being lost out there, chased by a crazy bloke with a knife that makes Crocodile Dundee’s look small. Scary, scary, scary.

4)      Frozen
No, not the Disney flick. This one’s about three friends who pay off a ski lift instructor to let them do one last ski run after closing hours. Unfortunately fort them, the ski lift shuts down while they’re halfway up the mountain. I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say the freezing weather eventually drives them to make the decision to jump or not. A classic, What would you do in that situation?

5)      All Is Lost
Robert Redford’s a retired old guy plying the ocean on his small sailboat. Sounds nice, right? Well, when a storm knocks out his radio, and his boat springs a leak, it soon becomes a life or death battle against the elements. There are maybe five words of dialogue spoken throughout the entire film, so it might not be for everyone. But to tell you the truth, the story and acting was so engrossing I barely noticed.


Honorable mention: The Gray. The Reef. The Ruins. Wrecked

Monday, January 19, 2015

Interview With "The Devil": The Devil At Play

The Devil at Play
Marcus Damanda

The Devil in Miss Drake's Class, 3



“Everyone loves the devil until they know him. Until they see him for what he really is.” 

Nobody ever did, even as the bodies started to pile up. 

But now, too late for it to matter, Audrey understands at last. The devil of Fairview has been courting her for days, and watching her for much longer than that. The murderer is her boyfriend—and he’s been killing on her behalf. 

His name is Jack Maddox, but everyone calls him Mad Jack. He’s planning a party, where everyone is invited, especially Audrey’s tormentors—especially the Facebook Fifteen. 

Audrey will have her revenge, whether she wants it or not. 

Because, in Miss Drake’s class, the devil will have his due.


14+ due to violence and adult situations

Buy Links:    Evernight Teen    Amazon

Excerpt:

As he cleaned the knife, she fought her way back to the surface. Eventually, she managed words. “I still don’t know which parts of this were real. Or if I’m completely crazy.”

“You’re not crazy, Audrey,” he reassured her. “You never were. No more than I was. And you’re not crazy now. Just the opposite, in fact.”

When she let the silence stretch again, making it meaningful, he continued.

“Your problem is the same as mine. You see things how they really are, and it makes you sad. Makes you angry. What happened here wasn’t a hallucination. What happened here was justice—for you.”

Polishing the blade, he glanced at her sidelong, expectantly.

He’s holding a knife, she said to herself. And spoke her mind anyway. “I’m nothing like you.”

He smiled. “You’re nicer than me, that’s for sure. No contest.”

“You’re… like the devil, Jack.” Please don’t kill me. You can read my thoughts, I know it now. You’ll know if I lie. I’m being honest with you. I want the truth.

“The devil?” Jack said, chuckling. “Not sure if I believe in ‘the devil.’ Never been to the other side, either way. But I know from pictures he has red skin, pointy tail, horns, carries a pitchfork… usually has pretty big eyebrows.”

Audrey put her hand over his wrists, stopped his polishing. “No, Jack,” she said. “The devil is far too smart to look like that. Everyone loves the devil, until they know him. Until they see him for what he really is.”

They regarded each other.

“Does this mean we can’t be friends?” he joked. “Bet you never thought you’d have first period English with the devil.”

“No,” she said. “I never did.”

“By your description,” Jack said, his smile fading. “The devil was in Miss Drake’s class. But it wasn’t me.”

“Jack,” Audrey said, giving up. “I want to go home. Can I go home, please?”

“Soon,” he said, tossing the knife in the sink, turning around, and leaning up against it. “You have to do something for me first. Don’t worry. I don’t think you’ll have a problem with it. I hope not, anyway.”

Audrey narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t afraid. After tonight, she didn’t know if she had any fear left in her. “What?” she asked.

“In order for you to understand the ‘what,’” he said. “You first have to understand who Ireally am. Completely—or at least as much as I understand, myself. Time is short, so pay attention.”

Audrey listened.

Interview With "The Devil" by Marcus Damanda

JACK’S SECOND INTERVIEW (now revealed as “Alastair Hutchinson”)

Character Interview with Alastair Hutchinson, Master of the 1,000 Ghosts—also known as “The Observer” from Devils in the Dark, A Devil in Daylight, and The Devil at Play. We’ve recently discovered that Alastair has been masquerading as teenager “Jack Maddox” at Battlefield Secondary School, though his reasons for doing so remain unclear. What we do know is that at least three Battlefield students, possibly four, have died—or been murdered—in the past three days, beginning with Gabriel Daniels on the day “Jack” and Audrey Bales began attending the school.

We are conducting this interview online. Alastair’s present location is unknown.

© You do realize we’ll be forwarding a transcript of this interview to the Fairview Police, Alastair. Full disclosure. You should be in custody, being questioned.

Alastair: No doubt. Listen, don’t worry about it. I’ll be in touch with them myself, soon enough. Time is short, though. Have at it.

© Why the secret identity? Why become “Jack Maddox”?

Alastair: Tell me you’ve never wanted a chance to do high school over again, if only for a few days. Anyway, I wanted to get to know Audrey Bales better. She needed a friend.

© Sources tell us she was doing remarkably well after being released from the hospital—making friends, blending in. What did she need you for?

Alastair: Conflict resolution.

© Is that a reference to the “Facebook Fifteen” who bullied her at her old school? Because, as of tonight, each one of them that transferred to Battlefield after their suspensions were served is either dead or missing, Alastair. Did you know?

Alastair: I certainly hope they’re dead. That was the idea, after all. I do try to be thorough.

© Are you admitting you killed them? As I said, Heather Roberts is still missing.

Alastair: That bitch is fish food. I expect they’ll find her, soon enough.

[As the interview continues, Bobby’s at work trying to wire the police and see if they can slip in and see this conversation right away. I can’t believe I’m getting a murder confession. Poor kids …]

© Does Audrey know what you’ve been doing?

Alastair: Audrey Bales is the best person I know. She’d never have anything to do with any of that. She doesn’t even want some petty little teenage version of payback. She just wants to be left alone. She’ll hate me pretty quick when she finds out—so sad. I really do care for her. So naïve. So easily damaged.

© Why are you doing this, then?

Alastair: You know, that’s ironic. Those were Audrey’s precise words when she entered the chat with the so-called “Facebook Fifteen.” I know what’s best for Audrey, even if she doesn’t. I know what’s best for everyone.

© You said time was short. What are you doing, Alastair?

Alastair: I’m arranging a party. My sendoff, you might say—and Audrey’s final liberation. All of the best people will be there.

© Really? Where is it?

Alastair: Nice try.

[Bobby has the police on the phone, but they’re complaining about some kind of encryption on Alastair’s end. They can’t cut through. Or even trace it back to its source.]

© Alastair—if you’re planning more violence, I have to ask you to please stop. This has gone far enough.

Alastair: Any of the Fifteen could have ended this three days ago. I made sure they knew how. I’m only waiting for one of them to “step up,” as the saying goes. This is their fault. And Maggie Lassiter’s. I am only a vessel.

[The police are asking us to keep him online as long as possible.]

© How old are you?

Alastair: That depends on if you count the time before I joined the host. I’ve been there for one hundred and three years. So, all told—one hundred eighteen. My, time does get away.

© Who’s coming to this “party” of yours?

Alastair: By now, I expect the police are putting every member of the Fifteen they can find into protective custody. You’d really be better off asking them. Each one they do not find, they’ll be at the party. Also, Maggie will be there. And Audrey, of course.

© You plan on killing her, don’t you?

Alastair: Audrey? Absolutely not. She deserves a life, if that’s what she truly wants.

© And Maggie?

Alastair: My plans regarding Miss Lassiter run far deeper than killing her. No, I do not intend to harm her, myself. As for the others …

© Alastair, they’re KIDS! Children!

Alastair: Yes. Yes, they are. And yes, I’ll most likely kill them. Please, stick to questions. Your statements of the obvious annoy me.

[Still no luck with the trace.]

© Was Miss Drake involved in any way? We’ve learned she taught a “Jack Maddox” five years ago, and that he died. Suicide.

Alastair: Intrepid, aren’t you? No, as to the current situation, Miss Drake is more fairly counted among those you erroneously label as “victims.”

© What’s that supposed to mean?

Alastair: The body count is not “four,” my friend. It’s actually six. I’ve been quite busy, you see.

© I’m not sure I even know what to say to you, Alastair …

Alastair: That’s fine. Listen, there’s actually a car pulling up. In this weather, it could only be assumed these are my guests.

© Alastair, wait.

Alastair: I’ve waited long enough. I’m afraid we’re done here. Please tell the police I’ll be in touch in an hour or three.

[End of Interview]

About the Author:
Marcus Damanda lives in Woodbridge, Virginia with his cat, Shazam. At various times throughout his life, he played bass guitar for the garage heavy metal band Mother’s Day, wrote for The Dale City Messenger, and published editorials in The Potomac News and The Freelance Star. Currently, while not plotting his next foray into fictitious suburban mayhem, he spoils his nieces and nephews and teaches middle school English.




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