Posts Tagged ‘horror’

Weekly Exercise #14 (11/19/13)

Posted: November 19, 2013 in Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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Time again for my Weekly Exercises! These flash-fiction pieces are part chance for me to practice my craft, part chance for the readers of my blog to let me know how I’m doing as a writer, and part shameless plug to get people interested in my published fiction. Remember that the Weekly Exercises are dependent on reader feedback, so if you have any thoughts, let me know.

If you would like to check out other Weekly Exercises, please check out their page. And if you have an idea for a Weekly Exercise, let me know. You might see one based on your idea here with your name on it.

That’s all right now. Enjoy.

~~~

Josef Mengele woke up with a start. He was strapped down to a metal chair in his kitchen and someone had placed a gag in his mouth. He tried to call out, but a voice said in his ear, “Nobody’s coming to save you.” From behind him appeared two men and a woman. Mengele didn’t recognize either of them.

“We’ve been looking a very long time for you, Josef Mengele.” said the woman, speaking German with a Polish accent tinged with some American. “Almost ten years, in fact.”

“Do you know who we are?” asked one of the men, whose voice sounded like the one Mengele had heard only a moment before. He was dark-eyed and he had a long, scraggly beard. Mengele shook his head, which made all three intruders smile humorlessly. “We guess you wouldn’t. After all, you caused so much pain for so many. How can you expect to remember three prisoners?”

Mengele’s eyes widened. His three captors pulled up their shirt-sleeves, revealing strings of numbers appearing on their arms. Survivors of the camps, and they had him tied up and at their mercy! How did this happen?

“We’ve been tracking you for a while, Mengele.” said the second man, young and curly-haired. “We and so many of your former patients. We formed a little group after the war, you know. All to find the killers who had escaped justice. You’re the latest find out of twenty-three former Nazis. Yes, twenty-three. We made sure they suffered before they all died too.”

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” said the bearded man, removing the gag from Mengele’s mouth.

Mengele coughed and spluttered before speaking. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said. “I was an innocent lamb. I had no idea what I was doing, I was just following orders—!”

The woman slapped him. “No lies!” she hissed, her eyes ablaze with anger. “No more lies! You separated me from my husband and son! They died in the gas chambers and never received a grave. And you put me through hell, making me work and then cutting me open and then sewing me back up. And you had no problem with your lab assistants having fun with me! Don’t claim that you’re a little lamb! My husband and son were lambs! You’re a wolf!”

“The courts will vindicate me.” said Mengele. “You’ll be punished for this ludicrous behavior. But if you untie me now, I’ll forget this ever happened—”

The three captors laughed, shocking Mengele into silence. “You think we’ll give you to the courts?” said the curly-haired youth. “That’ll take too long. You’ll commit suicide before anyone can punish you. No, we’ve got something better planned for you.”

Suddenly a black shape appeared in the kitchen, floating just above the kitchen table. Mengele stared as a monstrous face emerged from the black shape, its eyes fiery red like hot coals. “What is that?” asked Mengele, terrified.

“The Angel of Death.” said the bearded man. “You know, the namesake for your nickname? He decided to help us punish the Nazis we track down. He gets your soul while you’re still alive, and we give him ourselves over to him ten years early.”

“You’d make such a deal?” said Mengele, not taking his eyes off the Angel of Death. “Why would you give up your lives after surviving the camps?”

“Because it’s worth it.” said the woman. “I’ve been only living a half-life since I left the camp anyways. Giving myself over to Death early makes the nightmares quiet, because I know I’m getting the retribution I seek. And whatever’s on the other side, it’s better than what you’ll ever get, even if I never see my husband and son again.

“Have fun in Hell.” said the bearded man. “It’s your turn to feel unending misery and terror.”

Mengele screamed as the Angel of Death wrapped itself around him. Then he was falling through a tunnel, before crashing on the shore of a sea of fire. In the sea of flames, being poked with pitchforks by ghastly monsters were Nazis of all ranks and branches and ages. Some of them Mengele even recognized. There was Goebbels and his wife, and there was his assistant at Auschwitz, and there was a corporal he’d known in Berlin, and—was that the Fuhrer being ripped apart by hooks in his skin as demons tried to reel him in from all sides like a fish?

Before he could even process that the same fate awaited him, something kicked him into the sea of flames.

A “Phantom” of an Idea

Posted: November 19, 2013 in ideas, Novel, Scary Stuff, Writing
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As you will see, there’s a really bad pun in the title of this post.

You ever have that song stuck in your head, and you can’t get it out of your head but you really don’t want it to become unstuck? And for those writers out there, do you ever wish that you could find some way to connect that song to your writing? Both happened to me today. And here’s the kicker: the songs in my head were from the musical The Phantom of the Opera, based on the novel by Gaston Leroux (you see why I said there was a bad pun in the title?). What’s worse was that I wanted to write a story written around The Phantom of the Opera.

Sometimes ideas come to me quickly when the inspiration strikes. Today it didn’t. I had to actually spend all day thinking about this story before I came up with something. The story for it was there, I just couldn’t get quite the grasp on it. And it wasn’t until I read some poetry by a friend and stepped out of the shower this evening that this idea for a POTO-based story came to me. I literally started jumping up and down in the bathroom with excitement. I was so happy to have this idea before I went to bed.

Now I’ve written the idea down and I’m writing it here because I wanted to share it with you. It just seemed like the sort of story in my life that I wanted to share here on my blog. The idea involves magic, some familiar characters from the novel and the musical, and a supernatural war playing out in Ohio, New York, Washington DC and Paris, all in the course of at least three books (I love how my mind works. It just comes up with the strangest elements to add to my stories). There’s darkness, there’s intrigue, there’s even a little forbidden love involved. If I ever get the chance to write it, it’ll be awesome.

Of course, I’ve got a pretty full schedule, so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to write it. Hopefully some time soon, right?

Well, I’m going to sign off now (first time I’ve ever said “signed off” in over two years of blogging. How’s that for random?). It’s late, and who knows? I’ve gotten some great ideas from sleeping and dreaming. If anything comes up, I might just let you know. So goodnight, Followers of Fear. See you in the morning.

Weekly Exercise #13 (11/10/13)

Posted: November 10, 2013 in Living and Life, Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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Time for my Weekly Exercises (and a day earlier than promised). These flash fiction pieces are a chance to practice my craft, as well as get feedback from readers, and to possibly get them interested in my published work. Remember, the Weekly Exercises are for the readers, so if you like what you read, let me know.

This week’s Exercise is a special one, and not just because it’s the thirteenth. I’ve included a little section after the Exercise to explain why this one’s special. I’d suggest for you to wait until after you’ve read the Exercise to read that explanation, but scroll down if you want to. Just recognize it’s a much more impactful story if you read the additional stuff afterwards.

For more Weekly Exercises, please follow the link here. And if you have an idea for a Weekly Exercise, let me know. You may see your name and idea in a future Weekly Exercise.

~~~

Mark pulled the Toyota Sequoia into his usual parking spot and got out, sweaty and close to puking. Still he managed to keep his stomach down and went to inspect the front of the car. When he saw the blood, he actually did throw up.

He couldn’t believe it had happened. He’d been driving home from a party at his friend’s frat house after a few hours of boozing and a comfortable three-quarter hour with a lovely coed. He was slightly buzzed, but not enough that he thought it’d be a problem to drive. Besides, what did he care? He was doing well in his classes, he’d probably ace his exams, and he was graduating a semester early with a 3.7 GPA. What could go wrong with his life?

He’d been a block away from the intersection at Fifteenth and High, and the light turned green. He’d stepped on it, not even bothering to slow his speed or put on his turn signal as he went into the turn. It was then he’d first seen the pedestrian, a guy in a navy-blue coat and a wool hat crossing High Street. Mark saw him, but didn’t react. Neither did the pedestrian, who had just seemed to notice that a big white car was heading for him at nearly forty miles an hour.

There was a sickening crunching noise as the car’s nose hit the pedestrian head-on. He flipped -over onto the hood, rolled up to the windshield, bounced off the glass, and then off the car and onto the street. Mark hit his brakes, skidding to a stop in the left-hand lane. He looked behind him, seeing a crowd of people gathering from the nearest bar and from the street corners to see what had happened. The pedestrian lay on the ground unmoving, while people took photos with their phones and pointed. Still the pedestrian didn’t move.

Mark didn’t know how long he looked out the back of his car, but then he noticed people pointing at his car and he’d snapped back to life. He’d pressed down the gas pedal and bolted before anyone could stop him or call the cops. Mark didn’t stop driving until he was far from Fifteenth and High, and only then did he slow down enough to make it home in the narrow streets in his neighborhood without hitting anyone or anything else.

He’d killed that guy. He was sure of it. The amount of blood his car had brought with them, the poor bastard couldn’t have survived. Perhaps Mark should turn himself in—no, he couldn’t. He was going to graduate in a few weeks, and he had an interview with Safe Auto tomorrow afternoon. If he was even charged with killing someone, he could kiss his chances of graduating and employment away.

He’d have to get rid of the evidence. The window wasn’t cracked and the hood was only a little bent out of shape. If he could get the blood off his white car, nobody would know the difference. Mark turned to get a bucket and a sponge from his apartment, but standing in his way was a person. Except the person was covered in blood, his jaw nearly torn off, and his arm was bent at a weird angle. He couldn’t be a real person, could he?

Mark stepped back as the monstrous man limped towards him. It was then that Mark noticed the guy was wearing a navy-blue coat and a wool hat. It was the pedestrian he’d hit. “Hey dude.” said the pedestrian, looking at him through broken glasses. “You know, that was kind of dickish back there. I mean, you just left me in the street so that people could take photographs of me and post them to Facebook! What was up with that?”

“Stay away from me!” shouted Mark, but the ghostly vision came closer. Then it extended his good arm and pushed Mark into the front of his car. Mark felt the blood against his back, and he screamed.

“You didn’t care, did you?” shouted the spirit. “You just ran off to preserve your perfect life! My life’s gone now, it’s all over the ground and your car and your back.”  Mark stared in horror as the spirit started to fade in front of his eyes. “Well, guess what? Karma’s a bitch.”

The spirit disappeared. For a second, Mark thought he’d imagined the whole thing, but then his car roared to life behind him. He turned around and saw the pedestrian’s ghost in the front seat of his car. “Hey, I never got my license.” shouted the spirit, leaning his head out the window. Do you think I can still drive this and kill you?”

Mark screamed and ran. The car followed, its demonic driver laughing maniacally. He ran, dodging the car every time the engine gunned and it tried to hit him. At some point Mark realized that the ghost in the front seat was pushing him back towards High Street. But why? Did he want him to die like he’d died, on the very same street as he did?

Finally he broke onto the open lane of High Street, not seven blocks from where Mark had hit the pedestrian. The car chased him towards Fifteenth, a chase in the middle of the busy street. People watched as Mark ran, chased by his own car. Finally between Fourteenth and Fifteenth, the car’s engine died and the car rolled to a stop in front of a closed bookstore. Mark stopped running, unable to believe he was still alive.

“Excuse me sir?” said a voice. Mark turned and saw two cops coming his way from a sea of police cars surrounding the crosswalk where Mark had hit the pedestrian. And there, unnoticed by anyone, was the pedestrian’s ghost, sitting on top of one car. He waved as the police inspected him and his car.

Now Mark’s life was over too. The spirit disappeared.

~~~

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this on this blog, but back in February of this year I was hit by a car on the way to class. Luckily I got off with only a few bruised ribs and a scrape or two, but I was pissed, especially when the driver only waited for me to get up and start swearing before she tried to drive off. She didn’t get very far though, because the street we were on was not only full of cars and pedestrian traffic, but a construction site was nearby. She was arrested twenty feet from where she’d hit me!

Ever since that day though, I’ve been weary of getting hit again, and every time I cross a street, I’m watching twice as hard for anything that might hit me. Good thing I’ve been so vigilant, because last night as I was walking back from seeing the new Thor movie, I was crossing the street and a car nearly ran me over. And yes, it was a white Toyota Sequoia. If I’d taken a second longer to react, I might be a pancake in the road. And the way the driver reacted–actually, how he didn’t react at all to nearly hitting a pedestrian while driving too fast in a turn.–let me know that he would’ve just driven away as well if he’d hit me.

So as part therapy, part fun of writing, part warning to anyone who reads this blog and drives, and part imagining what might happen if he’d actually hit me and I could come back as a ghost, I dedicated a whole Weekly Exercise to what’d nearly happened to me. And now that I’ve written this out, I can say I can continue on with my life with just as much enjoyment and energy as usual.

Well, maybe with a bit more confidence and pride that my hyper-vigilance around traffic isn’t out of just paranoia and it’s actual useful. Good night everybody!

A Self-Publishing Milestone

Posted: November 10, 2013 in Living and Life, Novel, Progress Report, short story, Writing
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I’ve been meaning to write this post all weekend, but I’ve been crazy busy with homework (ah, the life of the busy college student with less than four weeks till finals). Anyway, this past Friday several people bought or downloaded copies of Reborn City. Before Reborn City came out, I’d sold nearly fifty copies of The Quiet Game: Five Tales To Chill Your Bones. With the additional copies of RC, I realized something: I’d sold fifty copies of all of my books, total.

Now, I know that’s not as prestigious as selling fifty or a hundred or a thousand copies of each book. But for me, it’s a big deal, especially as a self-published author. I remember very well when no one was reading this blog, let alone showing any interest in my writing. The fact that I’ve come this far, that people want to read my blog and that at least enough people for a mid-size class at my school want to read my book means a lot to me.

Still, I want to sell more copies of my books. Which is why I’m making an announcement. I wrote an article for Self-Published Authors Helping Other Authors a few days ago about how the publishing platform CreateSpace is offering new, free distribution options for its authors. I was hesitant to put either of my books through these channels though, because it would mean a higher price to buy my books. Not only did I not want to put a strain on my readers, but I was afraid new readers wouldn’t want to read my work because it cost more.

I’ve since changed my mind. My books will be available in bookstores and libraries if I were to take those distribution channels. Heck, I could reserve my own book from my local library! That would be amazing! And there’s always a chance someone will want to read the book even if it’s a bit pricier than most supermarket paperbacks. So look forward to possibly seeing RC and The Quiet Game in your local Barnes & Noble or library in the future, okay?

In the meantime, I’ve got some work to take care of. I’m hoping to get my homework done tomorrow, and to write a Weekly Exercise as well. Wish me luck, okay? Good night everybody!

Weekly Exercise #12 (11/5/13)

Posted: November 5, 2013 in Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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It’s time again for one of my Weekly Exercises. These flash fiction pieces are my chance to practice my craft, as well as receive feedback from my readers and possibly get them interested in my published work. Remember, the Weekly Exercises are dependent on reader feedback, so whatever you think, please let me know in a comment if you have the time.

Also, if you’re interested in reading the other Weekly Exercise, just follow the link here.

~~~

Daddy always said that Mommy had disappeared and that they didn’t need her because she was a whore and a bitch and they didn’t need that kind of woman in the house. Sometimes Devin thought otherwise, because surely Mommy was nicer than Daddy no matter what she was. Daddy was always angry about something, and he was angrier when he drank. One time Devin tried to ask Daddy not to drink because it only made him angry. Daddy punished Devin by making him wear a dirty diaper he’d stolen from the neighbor’s trash can and stand in the dark closet with the rats.

But now Devin wasn’t so sure that things were better with Mommy. Because Mommy had come back. At first Devin was glad to see Mommy again, but then Mommy had pulled out a knife. Daddy had been sleeping on the couch, burping and farting in his sleep. Mommy had stabbed Daddy while Devin watched. There was a lot of blood, and some of it got on Devin. She stabbed him again and again. And Devin could only watch and cry.

At some point Mommy stopped stabbing Daddy and looked at Devin. It was like she’d never noticed him standing there till now, judging by the look of surprise on her face. “Devin!” she said. “What’s the matter?”

Devin could only cry harder as he tried to speak to his mother. “Why-why did you stab Daddy?” he hiccupped. “Why?”

Mommy smiled, and her pearly-white teeth scared Devin because they looked like rat teeth. “Because I’ve always wanted to.” she said. “And because I can.”

My Scary Scene Might Just Be Okay

Posted: November 3, 2013 in Living and Life, Novel, Reflections, Scary Stuff, Writing
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A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post about the scariest scene I’d ever written in my career. It was a pretty intense sexual assault scene, so bad that I had to go out shopping in the middle of a downpour just to find my center and write about it in a blog post (it was that bad). Two of the concerns I had with the scene was if it would deliver the emotional effect I was looking for, and was it well written?

Well, I can’t really testify as to the former question. Only readers of the story could tell me, and that novel is still in its first draft. But for the latter, I might have an answer.

The book I’m reading for class right now.

I’ve mentioned before that I’m taking a literature class that covers science-fiction literature (and a couple movies). One of the books we’re reading is called The Windup Girl by Paolo Baciagalupi, and early on it has a pretty terrifying rape scene. I found myself reading it on my couch, putting a hand over my mouth as it ended. I was thinking about it the whole rest of the day and well into the evening, trying to wrap my head around it.

And then I realized something. I felt these same emotions writing my own rape scene. Not at the same intensity, but close to it. And it was written in a similar way to my own scene as well. In fact, I thought to myself, “There are many similarities between the scene in Baciagalupi’s novel and my own draft for Laura Horn.” Now I’m not saying I’m on par with a novelist who’s won the Hugo and Nebula Awards (and besides, his scene had some sci-fi twists, making it very different from mine), but the similarities really sprung out at me, especially the emotional similarities. It made me realize that wondering whether it’s well-written–whether I included the right words, whether I was describing anything right–was the wrong thing to worry about.

Instead, I should be worrying about delivering the emotional impact that you’d expect from a rape scene. The terror, the humiliation, the pain, the anger, the crushing despair. I should be more focused on those aspects of the writing when I write those sort of scenes. If I do that, the well-written part will somehow weave itself into the scene.

So now that I’ve figured that out, I think I’ll approach those scenes very differently in the future, should I decide to do one again. In the meantime though, I think I’ll go to bed, as it’s getting quite late. Goodnight, my dear Followers of Fear (that’s what I’ve started calling people who read this blog regularly, along with those on my Facebook page and Twitter feed. Do you like the nickname?).

Oh, and for those of you who are wondering when I’m going to end this self-imposed hiatus on my writing (if anyone’s wondering that at all. I’m sure most of my readers have more important things to think about, but you never know), I promise you it’ll be as soon as my workload clears up a bit. That might not be till after final exams, when all I have is work at my job and whatever’s on TV or whatever I’m reading at the moment, but on the plus side, exams are in four or five weeks, so it’ll be soon. And then I plan on writing up a mean storm of fiction! It’ll make up for all I’ve missed during NaNoWriMo!

Weekly Exercise #11 (10/29/13)

Posted: October 29, 2013 in Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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It’s time for my Weekly Exercises. These flash fiction pieces are part chance to practice my craft, part sounding board to see what works with readers and what doesn’t, and part shameless plug to get people interested in my published work.

If you like or hate this week’s Exercise, please let me know. I appreciate feedback, positive or negative. And if you want to read past Weekly Exercises, please click here.

~~~

Darla led her cousin Will through the fields behind her Daddy’s farm, pulling on his hand as she led him through the tall stalks of corn. She giggled and he laughed, letting himself be pulled along. Overhead, the country moon shown bright above them as they raced for the woods behind Old Man Keller’s house, where they would have some alone time.

Will had come to stay with them this summer because Darla’s Uncle Pete thought that Will’s city friends were bad news, and he wanted Will somewhere away from that sort of environment. Darla didn’t mind at all. She and Will hadn’t seen each other at all since they were both four years old, and in that time Will had gone from a cute little boy to just plain cute. Plus he had that big-city swagger and confidence and that dialect you only heard in the city and in the blockbusters they showed at the theater in town. It made Will that much cooler, and if he didn’t mind, Darla wouldn’t mind herself if they were kissing cousins for the summer.

“So what was your Dad talking about earlier?” asked Will when they reached the woods. “That Owl-Man thing he mentioned?”

Darla groaned; her father had probably figured out that she planned to take Will out to the woods and had tried to make her reconsider by mentioning sightings of the Owl-Man in the woods and in the fields.

“It’s just an old urban legend.” said Darla. “That the guy who owned Keller’s woods before he did was into black magic and one day he cursed himself with an owl’s head, so now he lives in the woods pecking the eyes out of anyone who crosses into his woods and sees him so he can keep his secret. It’s just meant to keep kids from making out in the woods. The real reason why nobody should go in is because Old Man Keller has a gun.”

“Then why are we going in?” asked Will.

“Because it’s the only place nobody goes to make out.” said Darla with a wink. “We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.” Will grinned as they ran into the trees. When they were a ways in, they stopped and Will pulled out two of Daddy’s beer cans from inside his jacket. They were about to take a long deep drink when they heard a branch break. Both froze, looking around in case someone had followed them in. There was no way around.

Shrugging, they toasted each other with the beer cans and took a long gulp. The beer tasted dark and full of teenage rebellion. Darla wiped her mouth and looked at Will. She wondered if this was a good time to see if he wanted to kiss when there was another cracking noise. Will stood up, looking around. “Somebody there?” he shouted.

“Oh, sit down.” said Darla. “It’s probably somebody who had the same idea as us. And if Old Man Keller hears you, he’ll shoot you—Eek!”

A man emerged from the dark, holding a rifle in his hands. Darla couldn’t make out his face very well, but from the smell of tobacco and his girth she was pretty sure that it was Old Man Keller.

“Oh, hi Mr. Keller.” she said. “Um…we were just leaving. So if you don’t mind telling my Daddy about this, that would be great. ‘Kay?”

All Old Man Keller did was fall over onto his belly. Darla jumped away, spilling beer all over her shirt. Why was he so big? And why did he fall down? He had nearly crushed her!

Will turned over Old Man Keller, asking him if he was okay. The next moment he jumped away, his face suddenly green. Darla looked at Old Man Keller and saw that his eyes were missing from their sockets. Darla screamed, dropping her beer can in fright. She must’ve stood there screaming for half a minute before Will pulled her away. They were running away at top speed, heading through the cornfields and back to Darla’s house. When they got there, they stood bent over their knees, breathing hard.

“What was that?” asked Will. “Why were his eyes–?”

“Didn’t I tell you kids not to go out to Old Man Keller’s woods?” said a voice, Darla’s Daddy’s voice. Darla and Will jumped, looking around for Darla’s dad. “Owl Man’s watching for anybody who goes into his woods at night who shouldn’t be there. That includes his own family.”

They looked up and saw a man in a T-shirt and overalls standing on the roof. At first Darla recognized her father and was glad he was there. But then feathers sprouted from his face. And then to her horror he jumped down, his beak clicking loudly for eyeballs to eat.

She screamed until her own throat was torn out.

Review: “The Wolves of Midwinter” by Anne Rice

Posted: October 28, 2013 in Novel, Review, Writing
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(The following review has more than one spoiler, so if you haven’t finished or even begun reading The Wolves of Midwinter but are planning on it, please don’t read this till you do. Sorry I have to spoil some things, but I can’t do the novel justice in this review without mentioning one or two very important plot points. I’ll try and keep the number of mentions down though.)

This’ll be last review for a while, so I wanted it to be special, and I can’t think of anything more special to review than Anne Rice’s latest novel. Some of you may remember my review last summer of Ms. Rice’s The Wolf Gift. I’m sorry to say that I won’t be using food metaphors this time around, not just because it’s been a couple hours since my last meal, but also because I found it a little ridiculous, looking back, that I was the reviewer who used food metaphors.

Now on with the review.

Anne Rice has a talent for crafting truly extraordinary stories. In another author’s hands, they might seem mundane or boring, but with her hands she’s able to craft a engrossing novel that keeps  you reading the story long after you should go to bed. The Wolves of Midwinter is no exception. In this volume of The Wolf Gift Chronicles, protagonist Reuben Golding has some unexpected developments in his life, including the visit of the ghost of a friend of his. This sets the stage for further developments in Reuben’s life as a Man Wolf, as his fellow Morphenkinder Margon and Felix introduce him, fellow pack member Stuart and Reuben’s lover Laura to some more aspects of their strange, immortal world. At the same time, Reuben deals with the changing dynamics of his family as changes in his life and in the lives of his loved ones occur and as his own immortality becomes more apparent to him, sometimes rather painfully.

What do you brood about tonight, dear Morphenkind?

What is most magnificent about The Wolves of Midwinter is that the novel is always engaging even without a central antagonist or conflict to drive the story forward. Sure, there is a dangerous pack of Morphenkinder with some very dark plans for Reuben and his pack, but they are not essential to the plot that without them there would be no story. Indeed, reading the novel you get the sense that you’re reading about several chains of events closely linked to one another like crisscrossing lines of dominoes, and that the dominoes are just falling to their inevitable conclusions in the book you are reading in your hands. I marvel and kind of envy how the novel was written that way (I wish I could write a story like that. I wonder how Ms. Rice learned how to do it?).

The only part of the novel that I didn’t care for was when Reuben gets a little surprise gift a few months before Christmas, he seems to accept the implications rather quickly and give into the demands his family puts on him without much of an argument. I would’ve rather seen a more in-depth exploration of how he reacted to this surprise gift (not to mention how Laura takes it), but the rest of the novel moved along very well, so that was the only complaint I really had. And when you compare it to the rest of the book, it seems a little bit trivial.

My favorite portion of The Wolves of Midwinter was the last hundred or so pages, starting with some terrifying and unexpected events at a Morphenkind Yuletide celebration, followed by some tribulations in the life of Reuben’s brother Jim, and ending in a joyous celebration at the end of the Christmas season that almost makes you want to cry but instead makes you marvel at how masterfully crafted the ending of the story is.

For The Wolves of Midwinter, I’m giving it a 4.4 out of 5. The storytelling and language, the plot, the characters and how they deal with events as they (sometimes literally) hit them, made this a truly enjoyable read. I hope to read more of Reuben’s story in a future volume of The Wolf Gift Chronicles. Either that or another novel in the Songs of the Seraphim series, I love those books.

Oh and speaking of which, congratulations to Ms. Rice for her Song of the Seraphim novel Angel Time getting made into a TV show like Stephen King’s Under the Dome was this past summer. No word yet on when that’ll be happening, but I can already see it in my head and I bet it’s going to be great. I’m kind of seeing Christopher Eccleston as Toby O’Dare and Mehki Phifer or Omar Epps in the role of Malchiah. Don’t know if that’ll actually happen, but I definitely wouldn’t mind if it did..

Excerpts

Posted: October 27, 2013 in ideas, Living and Life, Novel, Progress Report, Scary Stuff, short story, Writing
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I’ve decided to post excerpts of my published work on separate pages. From now on, readers can click on any of the pages for the books I have out and read excerpts from the final drafts of each novel/short story collection. So if you’re interested in getting a sneak peek at The Quiet Game, Reborn City or Snake, you can scroll above, click on any of the pages for those works, and find a link to an excerpt.

I hope you get a chance to take a look at them. Each excerpt is carefully selected to give you an idea of what you might be reading should you decide you might want to purchase a hard copy of my published work (or e-copy, as it is these days).

I’m signing off now, but I want to let you know at some point during the week, besides more countdown posts for Reborn City and the usual Weekly Exercise, I also plan to write a reflection piece or two on themes in writing and perhaps a special Halloween post. Oh, and my last review till the Doctor Who 50th anniversary special.

Until then, have a good night everybody! See you later in the week and happy reading!

Review: Dracula Series Premiere

Posted: October 25, 2013 in Review, Scary Stuff
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He and Lestat can bite my neck any time.

Yes, another review. Don’t worry, I plan to do the new Anne Rice book and then just leave it at that till the Doctor Who 50th anniversary special. On with the review!

From the beginning, promoters for the new Dracula series have been saying this won’t be your usual look at the Dracula story, and they certainly didn’t lie. In this incarnation, the Prince of Vampires is played by the darkly sexy Jonathan Rhys Meyers (I cannot believe I just wrote that, but it’s true). And guess what? Dracula’s playing roles too, this time as Alexander Grayson, an American industrialist who plans to bring free power to England using fantastic technology. Why the disguise? Because apparently he’s hunting the Order of the Dragon, a secret society that Dracula has a history with (quite literally actually: the Order of the Dragon was a real order during Vlad Tepes’ time that fought to keep Christendom in Europe safe from Turkish and Moorish invasion. Here though it’s every myth about the power of the Illuminati/Freemasons/Jews rolled into one tight British package). When not hunting members of the Order though, Dracula seems rather taken with a certain young medical student named Mina Murray, who looks a lot like Dracula’s deceased wife from 500 years ago.

While the whole my-love-has-been-reincarnated trope has been used before with the Dracula legend, it’s been done sparingly enough that there’s room for breaking new ground here, and it looks like they intend to break a lot of new ground with this Dracula story. Here Dracula’s portrayed as an antihero seeking to use a combination of traditional vampiric war and deft political maneuvers to take out his enemies, who so far are portrayed as elitists wishing to retain their power with oil and their money and influence (gosh, why does that sound familiar?). And Mina Murray and Jonathan Harker have also been updated in this version, given the roles of a sweet medical student and an aspiring reporter respectively, and Renfield’s been portrayed so far as an intelligent black gentlemen who acts as Dracula’s link to the world rather than a crazy bug eater in Bethlehem Hospital (progress in the media!).

I have returned with a sexy beard. And thank the producers I don’t glow!

The acting is very solid as well. Meyers switches accents very well, as he also does with his personality, going from charming Victorian to ruthless, tormented killer in seconds. The character of Lady Jane, played by Victoria Smurfit, is also an interesting character, because she seems to be holding more secrets than other characters. It’ll be interesting to see where her character goes in the series…if she survives! And I can’t wait to see the interplay of the Dracula-Mina-Harker love triangle that will inevitably occur (we’ve known it would happen before we even saw the previews). If it’s done as well as the first episode has been done, even things we can see coming can have quite the impact.

And for those of you who are wondering if it’s too scary to watch, it’s not that bad. And coming from a guy who doesn’t get too terrified watching Evil Dead or Carrie, that’s saying something. There’s minimal blood and the scenes where blood does show up are tolerable. Indeed, you find yourself more interested in the action, the character interaction, and wondering how this battle will play out.

I’m looking forward to seeing where this miniseries goes. The first episode sets the bar high, but if they can keep meeting the challenge…who knows? Emmys and a second season might be in the mix.

I’m giving the first episode a 4.2 out of 5. I look forward to next week’s episode. I hope it’ll be terrifying.

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