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     I rarely call out to the darkened void that is the internet for aid as doing such a thing is tantamount to praying at the altar of an Old One: futile at best, hazardous at worst. But I find myself at said altar, knife raised high with sacrifice ready at hand.
     I am of course referring to Patreon, the site that allows my dear readers to contribute to my coffers in an attempt to wean me off of standard employment so that I can manufacture horror as a living, creating more terrifying tales to update the site with on a more consistent basis.
     Follow the link above to see how you can help out a struggling author, and the rewards you can get by doing so.

Blurred Edges, Chapter One

The station wagon pulled to a stop, prompting Claire to look up from her IPad (playing an old cartoon she watched when she was a kid) and out into the yard of the seemingly gargantuan manor. Pushing a stray few strands of blue hair from her eyes, she opened the door and stepped out into the chilly autumn weather. Hands immediately sought the warmth of her hoodie’s pockets while her jean-clad legs shivered from the frigid wind blowing up from the curving driveway. Leaves circled and frolicked about, carried by the wind, an endless sonata of silence serenading them as they cantered back and forth across the extensive lawn.

The Merchant of South Texas

Bass was in trouble. He needed money to pay rent on his apartment, and he’d just spent what was left of his unemployment on food for his six-month-old daughter, Leah. The child was ravenous and growing larger by the day, as children are wont to do, and Bass was determined that his daughter would never go hungry. But now he faced the proposition that his daughter may be homeless for a while.

Dead Girl's Dance, Part Two

Previous

I lean back as I admire the work that Amanda, my friend in the theater department who happens to do the tailoring for the costumes in all of the plays, has done on my Joker costume; Lurid purple with black pinstripes going down the legs, a pair of black suspenders and a green silk shirt with a purple jacket. Add to it my own shiny black shoes, and I have a great costume to wear to this Dead Girl’s Dance.

Shrieks and Shivers is Here!

     The new anthology by Jeani Rector (of the Horror Zine) is here and ready to be ordered/purchased. There's a kindle version as well as a paperback version so feel free to choose either one. Though if I were you I would purchase sooner rather than later, as we have a discounted release price up right now.

The Other Side of the Coin

“Lucy get the door! I’ll board up the windows!” I shout as I toss a pile of boards down to the ground beneath the stairs, a bag of nails already present from the work we’ve been doing on the house. I can hear the kids crying upstairs and pray that the sound won’t attract them. Slamming a board across the back door I begin hammering it into the framework, taking nails and hammering them into the crack between the door and the door frame. By my third board I hear the moans coming from our back fence, signaling that the dead have heard us.

Post Mortem: The Woman in Black Two

     Ventured from the graveyard today to investigate this new horror movie based off the first installment that was released in 2012. While the first wasn't accepted by many as an amazing film, I found it to be a delightful romp down a suspenseful maze full of fog and mysteries. Daniel Radcliffe spends the film exploring the haunted house and visiting with the townsfolk, who are fearful of this seemingly all-powerful spirit that seeks vengeance upon any who would see her by slaying a child.

The Calm Before the Storm

Night in the desert was calm, a placid time when the temperatures dropped and the dangers of the day gave way to the dangers of the night. Hassid had been warned by some Bedouin traders not to take this rocky pass, for it contained “dreaded things”, but Hassid wanted to reach Mecca within the next few days and this route would take him through the mountains instead of around them. What choice did he have?

Dead Girl's Dance, Part One

“Dead Girl’s Dance?” I repeat, wiping down one of the many tables at the coffee shop in the student union. Looking over my glasses, I stare at the girl who’d come up to me, asking if I wanted to go with her out of the blue.

Editing Process, Part One

     "I remember last century in a far more favorable light than this one," the Ghoul remarked, a party hat perched stickily atop his rotten skull. Rolling, bloodshot eyes turned to peer at the Editor, who was already going over a few new stories the Ghoul had pulled from his collection. "Well?"