Ladies and Gentlemen of Horror
Current mood: blessed
Category: Writing and Poetry
Finally here is the news you've been waiting for about the two anthologies you've been dying to read (and if you haven't been, it can be arranged). October 31st, 2008 Word Weavers will be releasing the much anticipated 2008 Ladies of Horror and the 2008 Gentlemen of Horror!
Each anthology features an in depth bio on each author, 6-10 "Sexy" or in the case of the guys, "Macho", photos and two works of fiction that showcase their abilities to make you shiver, sweat and faint.
So who's going to be in these anthologies? Glad you asked because there are some blockbuster names in these ToC. I'm going to list them below and I encourage everyone reading this to add them as friends because these are talents not to be missed.
For the Girls, Women and Ladies who love their horror twisted Word Weavers presents:
I highly suggest you check out the GoH and LoH pages as they have pics of the contributors in their albums for you to gander and gawk over. Check it out and leave comments to let them know how much you want it.
***Artists, both anthologies are seeking submissions for cover art, please send queries with a site address for your work to be viewed to the following e-mail address; gentsofhorror-at-gmail-dot-com Please remove the "at" and "dot" and replace with @ and a period.
Also if you can please repost this bulletin and pass on the word. It is up to the readers and the writers to support your horror genre!
Subscribe to Apex now!
Current mood: excited
Category: Writing and Poetry
From Jason Sizemore, Apex Digest
Fellow bloggers, feel free to pass this along.
Okay, I'm going to come right out and say it. The magazine needs more subscribers. Probably doesn't come as any shock, as this happens every year.
So we're going to do an old-fashioned subscription drive.
The reality of the situation is that we need 150 new subscribers (or roughly $3000), or we're looking at a hiatus until I have enough disposable income to push out another issue. I use the term "hiatus" because there won't be any mercy killings going on around here. I love the damn magazine too much to let it go (or possibly too stubborn), but the hiatus could be an extended one.
--How can you help? --By taking out a subscription! Or buying magazines from our store!
Subscriptions are a measly $20 for 4 issues in the US. $24 for Canada/Mexico. $34 for the rest of the world.
We've re-initiated the APEX FOR LIFE subscription option that gives you Apex until you die. This goes for $100.
If you're interested in the magazine, but want to check it out before taking out a subscription, then take a look through our ample back catalog.
Or, heck, if you're wanting to show your support but not necessarily want a subscription, check out our ample back catalog.
Every person taking out APEX FOR LIFE subscriptions will be entered to win the following prizes: 1) ARC copy of Broken on the Wheel of Sex by Jack Ketchum (Overlook Connection) 2) Signed limited copy of Orpheus and the Pearl by Kim Paffenroth (Magus Press) 3) Signed copy of Homebody by Orson Scott Card 4) Limited signed copy of When Dark Descends by Charles L. Grand & Thomas F. Monteleone (Borderlands Press) 5) Hardcover copies of Gratia Placenti and Aegri Somnia edited by Gill Ainsworth and Jason Sizemore
Furthermore, every person taking out a lifetime subscription will receive a TPB copy of either Unwelcome Bodies or The Next Fix.
**Jodi Lee would also like to add that the first five people to get a lifetime subscription get a fully signed copy of Courting Morpheus when it comes out. This awesome anthology features some amazing stories including, "Can of Worms" by Brandon Layng!
It was late as Henry drove the dark highway in his beat up Ford. The stars were like sparkles dropped on black velvet in the sky above Don as he stuck his thumb out hoping for a ride.
The beat up Ford spewed rocks into the air and a sharp stone hit Don in the shin, it smarted but he was happy to see the car pulled onto the shoulder, tail-lights, distorted red squares faking a welcoming warmth and he jogged to the passenger door. The hard fact of the switchblade in his pocket, a comfort and a pleasure to feel.
Henry smiled as the young man hopped into the passenger seat, the round cheeks of youth outlined well by a tight pair of Levis. The stiff joint of flesh in his slacks made his smile all the bigger as he greeted his new passenger.
"Name's Henry."
"Don."
"Where you heading?"
"Anywhere but here. Thanks for the ride Henry."
Henry nodded and for a few minutes they drove down the highway in silence. Henry's hard on growing with each movement as Don rubbed the Levi's pocket down toward his own crotch.
"So what's made you ride your thumb, Don?"
"That whole Kerouac thing." Don replied, wanting to take the knife out right then. "What about you?"
"Bible salesman." Don cast a glance into the backseat, which he found empty. "They're in the trunk."
Henry and Don shared forced chuckles at that.
"You know it ain't safe hitchhiking no more. Lot of perverts would be happy to pick up a young boy like you. Could have some real fun," Henry said and Don slipped a hand into his pants to grip the knife.
"Well it ain't safe picking up hitchhikers no more, either, Henry. Never know when a kid down on his luck might stab you just to jack your car," Don said and Henry tightened his grip on the pistol between his seat and the door.
They shared knowing looks. Seeing in each other's eyes the hard years of death. A truce was called with that look. A half mile up the road the beat up Ford pulled back onto the shoulder. Keeping hands on their respective tools, they gave hard smiles.
"Thanks for the ride Henry."
"No problem Don. Happy hunting!" This time the laughter was genuine.
Karma's a bitch.
The yellow lines spun past like a pattern on a spinning top. Hypnotic almost. A bump in the road thumped under the truck as it passed beneath all eighteen wheels. The trucker, Johnnie, snapped his eyes open.
The times when hitchhiking was all the rage and youth across America stuck their thumbs out to see their country was past and the ones who remained were a desperate breed.
In this day and age most drivers are too scared from watching the nightly news to help out their fellow man, for fear of being stabbed, shot, or raped and left lying in a ditch, except for the few who drive the highways in search of the unwary and stranded citizen.
The days of the long-haul trucker pulling eighteen-hour runs with the help of speed and greasy spoon coffee are days regulated out of reckoning in an attempt to make the roads safer from truckers falling asleep at the wheel.
Except for the remaining truckers who know how to fudge the books and need the money to pay off the $150,000 loans on their livelihoods, whether they be Macks or Peterbilts.
Johnnie had pulled three of these eighteen-hour shipment runs, was only three payments away from owning his truck and he didn't even feel the American made steel crunch beneath both the truck and trailer in a mess of glass and bone.
By the time the roadway, empty of traffic, was splashed with red and blue, the highway was worry free for the death of a hitchhiker, the death of a perverted driver and the arrest of a fudging trucker.
Well, I finally got back some real info from MySpace and I have found out that for the good of its users they have blacklisted all geocities links. 13Human Souls: Horror E-zine runs off of this same web host. Now don't be e-mailing MySpace tech help again. I understand their reasoning if not their methods. It's okay.
I found a way to make things easier for people.
Here's the gateway to 13HS and my own website (still under construction) to make things easier for MySpace users. click the link below and get reading!
13HS Antho Guidelines.
Current mood: breezy
Category: Writing and Poetry
Ladies and Gents:
As mentioned in a previous blog posting 13Human Souls will be putting out two anthologies this year; A New Breed of Serial Killer and Innards on the Outside. Their endeavors are to bring a new life into the horror genre, which has been a part of 13HS' mission since its start back in '07. This doesn't just mean new ideas but new voices as well. So if you're a writer who is new to the game with only a few publications under your belt or none at all, I encourage you to submit. What's very important to the novice and the professional alike -- read the guidelines and follow them closely!
A New Breed of Serial Killer anthology
The title says it folks, "a new breed of serial killer", is what I want. Do some research with this one. These killers should be like none the world has ever seen and it is going to be tough to come up with something like that. I have sitting beside me at this moment, the A-Z Encyclopedia of Serial Killers and in my basement are about forty true crime books on everyone from Ed Gein to little known small town murderers. The underlying motive behind a serial killers actions is power, by causing pain they are exerting their need for power of the victim, which means I'm understanding if that motive is there in the story. What I won't be understanding of is if that is the main focus of your story or if you pick jealousy or greed as your overlying motive for your character. Remember the "Unabomber"? His overlying motive was Antitechnology. I think that's pretty creative (don't use it, as it has been done). I think you get the picture about motives. Weapons; so help me God you will be rejected immediately if I read that your killer is using a knife, gun, axe, chainsaw, machete or simply his bare hands. Unless you think it can be done in a way never heard of before. For instance what if he had an unusual malformation of his hand? Use your imagination. I want new ideas but don't forget the story and use this as an excercise to really try and get into these people's heads. This is uncensored -- with the exception of sexual situations involving children -- and you can feel free to be as graphic as you like, don't base your story around an excuse to write about intestines strewn out from open stomach cavities though. Lastly and more importantly: they have to be human, their victims have to be human and I want absolutely no, NO SUPERNATURAL ELEMENTS.
Innards on the Outside
This one is for you horror writers that just love the supernatural stuff that goes bump in the night. People have been stroking themselves over Stoker's vampires for a long time. They've been electrified by Mary-quite-contrary's Frankenstein and felt the undead hunger of Romero's zombies while barking at the moon for more half-man/half-furball. What I'm saying is... No Vampires, No Frankensteinish Monsters, No Zombies, No Werewolves and no other monster that has ever appeared on film. Here is your opportunity to breath new life into the horror monster world with a brand new monster. To use a cliche: I'm asking you to think outside the box. Come up with a creature that is so surprising a reader will be astonished and frightened of new things in their lives. Don't just make that television possessed with the image of a dead girl who likes to kill people that watch her fall down a well -- make the television a living breathing hungry thing, with motive and purpose and a drive to kill. Be as graphic as you want. You have to be excited about this, right? I mean think of the possibilities now that you've put the old mainstays to the side. And don't think that if you can breath new life into one of them that I will accept it. Automatic rejection people. There are plenty of other places that want to publish those pieces. Lastly, keep these monsters in our world. In our cities, our towns, our basements and backyards.
The Technical Part Format and Payment
All submissions should be in an attached .DOC or .RTF file format and not in the body of the e-mail. If it comes in the body of the e-mail I will be friendly and send you a reply asking nicely if you could send it properly. The actual submission should be formatted as close a possible to the way it is described at the link below.
Mr. Shunn is a genius when it comes to presenting a manuscript for submission, I use his sage words myself. I still can't figure out how to make an em dash appears as to hyphens but we can sometimes only strive for perfection. Run your spellchecker, that's what it is there for. Read your work allowed off of the printed page whilst you hold onto your little red pen, searching diligently for parts that don't sound right, or grammar mistakes that ruin the flow of the story. I would like to suggest that if you don't already own a copy, buy Noah Lukeman's "The First Five Pages". It is the Bible of beating rejection, in my opinion. Keep in mind, I am the editor of these anthologies and as editor, well, I have to edit the stories that are accepted. I am not a tyrant though, so it goes like this: I will be making suggestions as needed to stories that are accepted, so these will be "suggestions", not orders. My purpose in making them is to ensure that your stories get the best possible reading by your audience and helps you to make the best possible representation of yourself. word counts 2,500-5,000 words.
Payment: will be one print contributor's copy and one .pdf copy. The .pdf copy will be sent at the time of the publication with the print copy within one-two months after publication, which depends almost entirely on how your post office is feeling that day.
Other Info: I have managed to get ISBN's for these anthologies and I will be looking into getting barcodes as well. Which means your local library will not balk at putting them on their shelves and if I can figure out the particulars of how to do it, they could be sold through amazon.com and in other bookstores. They will be printed through lulu.com and if anyone has any helpful tips about that let me know.
Where, how and when to send it by: Send your stories by e-mail to foxtat2@hotmail.com with the subject line of Submission: KILLER or Submission: INNARDS. Type it in exactly as shown otherwise it might not get read. REMEMBER TO ATTACH THE FILES NOT EMBED. The deadlines are as follows:
A New Breed of Serial Killer -- July 13th, 2008
Innards on the Outside -- August 13th, 2008
If you have any questions you can message me here or at the hotmail address with the subject line "Query". Response times on manuscripts will be as they are read and depending on the volume of submissions but should be within a month of sending.
I appreciate you stopping into read this. Below you will find a teaser trailer for the novel I have been working on called, "Sin in Skin". And below that there is an excerpt from the novel itself. I am trying to do some marketing research about interest in the novel and if you have the time I would like to hear what you have to say by answering a couple of poll questions you will find at the bottom of the page. If you would like to receive updates on the novel's progress and other bulletins about my work, e-mail me a blank message at foxtat2@hotmail.com with the word SIS in the subject line.
In the back of Mr. Sex Battery's blue Mack truck the black-haired girl was taking off her tight shirt. The support taken way from her breasts, they dropped, only the slightest tremble in the flesh giving any evidence to movement. The balls on the ends of the rings dangling from her nipples glint from the fake diamonds embedded in the metal. Light filters in from the front compartment was the only light in the back cabin.
Mr. Sex Battery actually had a decent set up with a mini-bar against one side and a bed along the back wall. He had pulled a half-finished mickey from the fridge and downed two shots. Offering his guest a shot, which she refused, he found himself surprised by her refusal. A girl like her normally needed a couple of drinks or a snort of coke to do the nasty with a guy like him. His ego was inflated like a blow up doll. She would be fucking him sober. Mr. Sex Battery, on the other hand, couldn't get it up without the help of his friend, Jack Daniels. He'd thought about trying Viagra and changed his mind when he heard the little blue pill could give him a heart-attack, so he stayed with what he knew worked. Besides he liked the taste.
He sat on the bed, making a mess of taking off his stained shirt and nearly falling over when he stood up to undo the big belt buckle. The teeth of the battered zipper jammed in his equally abused jeans and he started to cussing the damnable clothing. With a little rip the jeans gave and came undone. Crumpling down around his bony ankles, the buckle made a hollow thud against the metal floor and revealed his chicken thin legs. His sweat stained boxers followed.
The buckle at the front of the girl's skirt was considerably smaller than Mr. Sex Battery's, the rhinestones along the pleather strap not much bigger than the diamond in his wedding band. Belt undone, the zipper at the back sliding down smoothly, the little black skirt looked like nothing more than a discarded scrap of fabric going down her toned legs and resting at her feet. Mr. Sex Battery stumbled backwards to the bed as she released first one high heel boot and then another from the loop of material. She stood in front of him in her boots and a black silk thong.
"Turn around Baby, let me see your ass!" Spittle flew from his lips, broken off from the stream of drool drooping to his chin.
She slowly turned around as he took himself in hand, massaging the wilted instrument he envisioned her playing music with, as her ass cheeks came into full view his strokes had become fervent and the little pecker showed some signs of life.
From the top of her back down to the curve of one ass cheek a black tribal dragon tattoo twisted and curled over her body. She leaned forward and wrapped her hands around her ankles, her cheeks separating just enough to show the strip of fabric from her thong. Between the smooth roundness wrinkled pink skin could be barely seen on either side of the strip. From between the "V" of her legs she smiled at him.
Not without serious effort, Mr. Sex Battery managed to push himself up from the bed one handed; his other hand still busily stroking, wedding band cool against the not too tight skin. The friction made his penis hurt in a sweet way that only spurred on his excitement and nearly made him pop when the head rested in the clamp of her asscheeks.
"Man, you are one hot bitch!" Sweat poured down his face in tiny streams, that dipped in and out of the pock marked acne scars on his cheeks and chin. The sweat adding to the fog of body odor permeating the cramped space. "I can't wait to get inside of that tight little ass of yours, girl."
He held his penis in one hand rubbing it up and down the silk fabric of the garment while he grabbed a handful of firm flesh in the other.
"Well… what are you waiting for?" She wiggled her hips, to tease him. He couldn't believe his ears; she was giving him an open invitation! He horked a big gob of spit into the palm of his hand and hastened -- in case she changed her mind -- and pulled aside her underwear, rubbing it into her.
Slowly he pushed himself in with slow easy strokes at first until he was almost all the way inside of her. The wrinkled skin contrasted to the slick smoothness of her snug grip. The sensation was mind blowing, his knees were shaking and it took nearly every ounce of will power to keep it from ending right there and then. From the other end of him, she grunted and he sped up his strokes until they had become thrusts and the thrusts increased with speed and eagerness. She clenched her cheeks together holding him in place, squeezing him. His eyes were fixated on the tattoo, the tail curling under the cleft of a cheek, riding her back to the shoulder and the long tongue that licked the nape of her neck. Black ink beneath the trail of soft black hairs fading down from her scalp, tresses swinging in front of a shoulder to leave the skin open and uncovered, unhindered. With each deep plunge she tightened and he had to push harder, the wet spit drying and the heat brining him to that unbearable edge. The muscles of her back started to ripple as he watched. His hands were full of the flesh of her hips, the bones sharp handles under the skin, not yet splayed by childbearing but tender with youth. He was near orgasm and the sensations simply increased every time she flexed. The skin around the tattoo quivered and puckered with goose-flesh after each slam of his body into hers. She moaned, hungry mewlings escaping her mouth past off-white teeth and through luscious lips. He was thrusting inside of her, a splinter trying to break a sapling. The tattoo on her back was moving. He thought it was the force of their fucking at first, until it was lifting and pulling from her skin. The head detached from her shoulder and the skin it was detaching from snapped back into place. He watched the ink come to life as his orgasm overtook him in the release of a pent up flood
Cracked tiles dingy with furry bacteria, florescent lighting flickering with seizure inducing pulses, brackish water puddling the burnt ochre stained linoleum and the stench of staph infection permeating the air. The rusty stainless steel table ruled the decaying operating room.
Expectation was a film on the doctor and his staff.
Nurses in bloodstained baker's smocks scampered about the room. A half bald nurse used cauterized finger stubs to adjust the dull overhead light while the washed out brown of diarrhea hurtled over her torn fishnet stockings on its way to her anorexic ankles. Another nurse, banded tight with straps of browned and tattooed leather, shifted her colostomy bag before wheeling a dented cart over to the end of the table. Sweet smelling discharge seeped from the imperfect seal of the incision in her abdomen, the skin beneath the distended navel sunken and empty.
Eyeglasses embedded into the skin under the shelf of his brow, the surgeon read off of the chart clipped to the skin covered board. Hickory Stick fingers broken and bent at odd angles flipped the page over, a gingivitis black gummed smile cracking his hatchet face as he read on.
"The patient is placenta previa as well as separated?" The surgeon asked the assisting physician.
"Yes Dr. Sade," answered Dr. Carcinoma. His eyelids blinked like camera shutters, flapping rapid-fire over the milky white cataracts of his eyes. An indent in his forehead was an indicator of how often and how severely he had bumped his forehead into the edge of the operating table, his pygmy proportions to blame.
The surgeon was smiling so grandly with pleasure at the grave diagnosis, the corners of his mouth tickled the tregus of each ear, black gums around his incisors and cuspids releasing a sludge of blood onto his cleft chin.
"A separated and previa placenta, it must be my unlucky day. Most excellent." He slapped the physician on the back of the head, fingers making the dry snapping sounds of breaking twigs. "Aren't you excited, Dr. Carcinoma?"
Staring blankly at the ceiling the pale skinned maggot shaped Dr. Carcinoma nodded emphatically, bulbous lips slurping at the air.
Muffled bellows pumped from the figure on the operating table. She's gelatinous with toxemia, puffy faced, hands swollen near to bursting, wastes of tissue spread out over the table without muscle to give form, bones jutting under pasty skin like metal bars covered with tarpaulin and varicose veins spidered the woman's body in a roadmap of pain. Her full and protruding belly contrasted with the empty nasal cavity above the sewn shut lips. Her body rippled with another contraction as a green gangrenous fluid gushed from the folds of her vulva and flowed down the incline of the table.
Dr. Carcinoma sniffed at the drops of the green amniotic fluid that splashed over the edge and onto his face. "Her water broke, Dr. Sade!"
"I can see that," Dr. Sade reached over to the instrument cart. His cooked fingers tap each tool of his trade in turn. A bent fillet knife. A hay bailing hook with cracked wooden handle. A short and thick hunting knife with skinning hook. Barbeque tongs. Four pound meat cleaver with chipped edge. Cordless Dremel tool. And a saw-toothed pair of shears.
Dr. Sade lit a cigarette and with the acrid smoke of burning hair wrapped in scrotal skin following like a curling and wafting tail he checked the straps holding the woman's ankles and wrists. He stopped to admire the two punctures in her neck, the puckered edges the only sign of color on her skin. Seeing his admiration, the glint of barbed hooks, sodomy with splintered shafts of wood, the sting of razor tipped whips in his eyes she snarled at him, her needle sharp incisors dripping the poison of thirst. He smiled again that impossibly wide smile and moved down to ensure that the four gauge needle puncturing her arm, feeding blood through an IV, had not come loose.
"Nurses please prepare Jezebel for the caesarian."
No Fingers and Colostomy thread the fishing leads and hooks through the four eyelets on either side of the table and dug the barbed ends into the thick flesh of Jezebel's swollen stomach, pulling the thin steel taut before nodding to the surgeon.
Situating himself between Jezebel's splayed legs, Dr. Sade turned to Dr. Carcinoma. "The shears."
Pug nose twitching at the cart, the industrial scent of the plastic covered handle shears drifting up into his nostrils, Dr. Carcinoma stretched his stunted arms up and grabbed them from the tray. He swiveled on the balls of feet too quickly and the pointed ends of the shears poked a hole in the surgeon's leather butcher's apron. Dr. Sade gripped them above the plastic covered handles and shanked himself another three inches before removing the gore smeared instrument.
"Excellent, very sharp." Dr. Sade gave the pygmy doctor a pat on the head with an ungloved hand. "Now let's deliver a baby!"
He turned back around to Jezebel's quivering body, the sound of ragged breaths whistling through her exposed nasal cavity. The skin of the belly squirmed with the movement of its contents, a hand or a foot pushing up and digging the fish hooks deeper. Shears open the surgeon plunged the bottom blade into the leathery skin above Jezebel's pubic bone, thick gasses hissed out of the wound. Slow snipping as the blades sliced the thick tissue from pubis to sternum. The nurses pulled the fishing leads, opening the stomach cavity up like a South American giant flower that emanated the smell of rotting meat to attract its victims.
Dr. Carcinoma was jiving on the scent, practically jumping with excitement. He started running around the table, followed by Jezebel's muffled screams until he was stopped with a wet thunk by the corroded corner of the table. The blood ingested through the IV poured over the table through her stomach and into the troughs gouged into the edges of the table and streamed down the incline to a bucket on the floor.
Inside the blossomed putrescent flower of Jezebel's abdomen the child wriggled beneath a black caul. Using the barbeque tongs Dr. Sade pulled apart the caul and the smile was wiped from his greasy white face. "Nurse cover the patient's face. No mother should see this."
Nurse Colostomy retrieved a burlap sack from under the table and shoved it down and over the struggling woman's head. While the good Dr. Carcinoma recovered from being turtled on his back beside her. The overactive nose picking up on something different. As more of the caul was pulled off of the child, he was nearly choked on the stench. "What is wrong with the baby, Dr. Sade?"
Like new skin beneath a bad burn, the pink body of the newborn glowed against the black and dark brown of the placenta. Eyes wide and in shock behind the embedded iron frames he turned to Nurse Colostomy. "I need gloves now!"
She cinched the fishing leads to the eyelets and stepped to a darkened corner of the room, her high heels sloshing in the water, a thick piece of feces coating her ankles as she passed and when she came back, she handed Dr. Sade a pair of leather work gloves, dark with bloodstains.
He slipped them on and reached into the mess of decomposing organs, his arms were shaking as he lifted out the flailing little body. From inside the sack Jezebel's voice was a hoarse whisper, her struggles having broken the stitches around her mouth and released the long smothered voice.
"What's wrong with my baby?"
The thin red lips quivered as the newborn girl tried to release the cry buried in her chest for ten months. Her puckered weak chin depressing her bottom lip and cheeks dimpling under the cover of a curdled cheese-like substance. The wail was long and piercing as the surgeon hung her by the ankles and slapped her pink bottom with a gloved hand. He wanted to drop her, it's written all over his face like lines on a chalkboard.
"Doctor, what's wrong with my baby?" The whisper was louder, the sound desperate and demanding equally. Hanging his head infant cradled in his arms as he walked to the head of the table and removed the sack. Ripped and flapping, her lips were open in expectation.
Dr. Sade held out the pink and flawless newborn to her mother. Jezebel pulled away, crying and screaming, unable to look into those dark blue little eyes so full of life. All the vitality in her tiny squirming body too much for Jezebel to bear.
Grimacing Dr. Sade brought the baby back to his chest. Behind him, Dr. Carcinoma added bile and half-eaten lady's fingers to the slop floating over the floor. The nurses were turned to stare off at opposite sides of the room from which the surgeon stood. "There's nothing wrong with her, she's a beautiful living baby girl."
Currently
reading
:
Pandora Drive
By
Tim Waggoner
Release date: 14 March, 2006
13Human Souls is getting into publishing more than just online stories and this bulletin is to get your creative brains working. I'll be posting the guidelines soon. I'll give you a brief synopsis of both;
A NEW BREED OF SERIAL KILLER Anthology -- I'm looking for 13 stories that showcase unique serial killers. I want new methods of murder. Axes are out, knives, guns, etc. If you want to use these traditional items of death, be very, very creative about it. So not a butcher knife but maybe a butter knife. Not a tradional wood chopping axe but a survivalist's shovel/hatchet. But seriously think broader than that. Serial Killers on Mopeds who scalp people with authentic Tomahawks. You get the idea. Not just unique weapons though, we're talking behaviour and motives, even down to sex and race. Most serial killers are white males in their mid-twenties to mid-forties. Graphic content is essential. Leave a mark with your words. All Human characters.
INNARDS ON THE OUTSIDE Anthology -- Once again 13 stories that showcase something unique. This one needs new monsters. No Vampires, Werewolves, Mummies, Zombies or members of the traditional ilk. I'm looking for monsters that have never even been heard of. Remember the Family Guy episode where they made fun of Stephen King and made a joke that he could write a horror story about a possessed lamp? If he could write it why can't you? I think there are a lot of writers out there who could. How about a demon chair that devours the people who sit on it? A tree man, that pulls, people in and turns them into apples? See what I'm talking about?
I should be posting the guidelines by the end of the week and if you have any questions just send me a message. There will be a four month submission period and no problems with people submitting for both anthologies. Payment will be small and most likely will consist of discounted copies. Proceeds from the sale of the books will go towards 13Human Souls: Horror E-zine and hopefully will result in the ability to pay contributors to both future anthologies and the e-zine.
An Evil Dead: The Musical Proposal
Current mood: drained
Category: Life
It started with an awkward, uncomfortable, completely desired for first kiss. That was two years one month and ten days ago. Time is an amazing flexible thing in the mind's eye, what may seem like yesterday – a drive after a night of painting a house destined for the market that ended at a closed drive-in theatre gate – may feel to the body to be a small part of an astounding eternity worth experience with the person you have suddenly found yourself to have always been in love with. From the moment Stephanie gave me permission to do what I wanted so desperately to do since the first day I saw her (which was to kiss her obviously) when she whispered to me; "You can lean in now," I wanted to ask her hand in marriage.
Thus began the journey towards the perfect proposal to augment the perfect first kiss.
Stephanie had told me in conversation, that if I was to propose to her it would need be something original, she wanted a story to tell and as a writer I can understand that. It had to be original. It had to be unique to us. And it had to be something that had never been done before and was as fine an example of my feelings for her as I could possibly come up with. She did not believe it could be done. I'm not saying she didn't want to marry me. She had stated she wanted nothing less than to spend her life with me in the comforts of matrimony. Many a night was spent in discussion of tears shed as aisles were walked and commitments were made in the prescense of family and friends. She was simply being a woman (no offense intended ladies, this is actually more of an insult to the men in your lives) and women have little faith in the abilities of a man to accomplish much of anything without their help. I tend to agree for the most part.
I came up with approximately 30 ideas. Have her picture taken with a fox, a ribbon tied around the fox's neck with the ring hanging from it. I know a zoo that could make it happen. She guessed it. Give her a half-bloomed rose with the ring nestled in the folds of its petals. Too simple. Take her to the top of the CN Tower while looking out over the world. Too common. The other problem I had was this; I couldn't keep a secret from her. I can't tell her a lie without telling her the truth an hour later because the guilt overwhelms me.
The ring. I was smart about that. I let her pick exactly which one she wanted. It wasn't extravagantly expensive, which is another reason why she is an amazing woman, she's sensible about money and isn't materialistic. But it is absolutely beautiful in its flowery shape made of white gold and diamonds.
Finally the perfect idea.
We are huge fans of horror and at the end of 2007 she heard about Evil Dead: The Musical, which is based on Sam Raimi's cult films and star Bruce Campbell. I have the complete series, including the necronomicon covered DVD. Needless to say Stephanie phoned me immediately when she heard a local radio station was offering tickets in a contest. I was not lucky caller number nine. The show was so popular though they came back for a second run. I scraped together the cash as fast as I could and I bought the ring. Then I bought the tickets. She was as excited as I was. She wanted desperately to sit in the splatter zone ( a front section of the theatre where attendees get splattered with red dyed corn syrup) and although I could get tickets to a nearly completely sold out show, the splatterzone was sold out. You see what made the timing so important was that I needed it to coincide with our two year anniversary so this little theatrical event outing would be believed to be for that occasion and not for the proposal. I e-mailed the Diesel Playhouse's info address, the Diesel Playhouse being where the Toronto engagements were taking place, and I immediately received a phone call from the general manager, Bryan Reinblatt (brother of George Reinblatt who wrote the lyrics to the musical) and he wanted to help me make this proposal one that would go down in history. I am greatly indebted to Bryan and the entire cast and crew of ED:TM for making everything happen.
Bryan had a plan to make my wildest hopes come true.
First I had to throw off Stephanie so she wouldn't suspect what we had planned. I had to learn to convince myself to lie to the woman I loved. I knew it was for the best and I conceived a way to throw her off thanks to her own suggestion. She told me it no longer mattered if I came up with a grand way of proposing or even if I had the ring, which I told her I was unable to afford as of yet. I could ask her to marry me with a twenty-five cent plastic ring, so long as I was sincere. I made the most pitiful and pathetic proposal on Valentine's Day. It was a completely miserable day with nothing going right and I wrote the "will you marry me?" part in the card I gave her while on bended knee in nothing but my underwear and t-shirt I asked her before she could even finish reading the very brief card. We were in the middle of watching the first Evil Dead movie at the part where Ash gives his girlfriend Linda a necklace when I paused it to give her the card. The following week, she was very unhappy despite my urgings that everything would be great on the 22nd because we would have a night out on our own sans kids. I also tried to comfort her with the thought that by April I would have the ring paid for and could replace the cheap piece of plastic she refused to keep on her finger.
The 22nd arrived with its own complications completely not of my devising and we were on the road to Toronto. Then we nearly got lost on the way to the Diesel Playhouse. We found it and found our seats and then Bryan threw one over on me, according to the original plan we weren't going to be transferred to the splatter section until the second half of the show and it threw me for a loop when at the start of the show ten minutes after sitting in our seats with our drinks we were told there was a problem with the seats for which we had purchased tickets for. Bryan had resold the seats I assume since he had planned to seat us up front from the beginning. It gave me a surprise which helped to keep things convincing. The attendant informed us that they did this once a show where they gave away splatterzone tickets to a couple. Bryan handed us the tickets which he said were comped for the trouble of the seat situation.
Stephanie took one look at me and said, "You are so full of shit." The smile on her face was huge. I proclaimed in complete denial, "What you think I had something to do with this? The only way I could arrange for us to get these seats would be if I knew someone." "Do you?" she asked. "No, who the fuck would I know?" I denied.
The show started and it was hilarious. Fucking Hilarious. I will post a review here on ED: TM on Monday.
To see her smiling and laughing again after all the shit we've had to go through lately, was enough to make my heart grow like the Grinch's. It was amazing to watch.
When the show finished the cast came back on stage to announce a birthday (incidentally although it was not his they were announcing, it was actually George Reinblatt's birthday that same day) and then with chainsaw hand Ash points to me and lets everyone know I have a special announcement to make. As soon as I stand up and a few members of the cast help me up on the stage there are oohs and awws from the audience who can guess what is happening. Is Stephanie surprised, you betcha. She's so happy she's crying. A considerate audience member hands her a knapkin. Ash, who is played by Ryan Ward, the only member of the original New York cast and has an uncanny resembleance to a young Bruce Campbell, hands me the cordless microphone which Bryan has specially arranged for me to have.
Looking down at her from the stage and seeing only her despite the 150 other people watching the show plus staff and crew, I say;
"We have had a lot of tough times in our life, and a lot of bad luck in the last couple of years, would you come up here and make me the luckiest man in this room?"
I helped her to the stage, she said she nearly pissed herself, with all the excitement and the two strongly made alcoholic drinks, lol. Face and hair covered in blood I put one knee down in a puddle of the stuff and pulling a specially purchased ringbox with the day's date engraved on it, I asked her to marry me.
So you want to know what she said?
Well, "Yes" of course. Wouldn't you?
Next thing we know there is a server with a tray holding two glasses of champagne. Bryan is kind enough to take pictures of us with the cast. His brother George video taped the entire proposal and when I have that available and his permission I will post it. Amid a standing applause we exited the stage to the multitude of congratulations from the cast and crew. Bryan snapped a few pictures and a sever told us he would leave the rest of the complimentary bottle of champagne at the bar for us. The best part... the smile on my fiancee's face. Stephanie couldn't have been any happier. There could not have been a better proposal of marriage for two horror fanatics. We found out that there had not been, either in Toronto or New York, ever, a marriage proposal. It was original, unique to us, it was as special as my feelings for her and it had never been done before. She has a little more faith in me now.
Oh and the way I describe it compares not in either the excitement or the happiness as when my fincee, Stephanie, tells the story of how I asked her to marry me.
Take care everyone.
Brandon
Currently
watching
:
Evil Dead Companion
By
Bill Warren
Release date: 21 July, 2000
The most graphic Stories in one collection
Current mood: excited
Category: Writing and Poetry
DARKENED HORIZONS VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL EDITION
Saturday February 16th.
To whet your whistles as to what is being offered in this volume here's a list of authors contributing.
JENNIFER L. MILLER
JESSICA LYNNE GARDNER
ANDREA COLLEEN
ERIC ENCK
CHARLOTTE EMMA GLEDSON
MATTHEW PIERCE
CASSANDRA LEE
BRANDON LAYNG
And a new short from me, Jordan M. Bobé
We took our gloves off and went bare knuckle with this one. There's strong, graphic violence, sexual content and profanity littering every page. It is NOT recommended for children.
Mark your calendars. After all the love you're going to feel on Valentine's Day you're going to need something to counter act and Till Death Do We Part is going to be the answer to that. Happily ever after is not an open in our world.
Let Us Darken Your Horizons.
On Saturday February 16th it will be available for purchase here. they will also be running special sell prices on all of the volumes on the website until March 1st in celebration of the 5th Darkened Horizons release.
Keep your eyes peeled for a special edition hardback volume including DH1, DH2, DH Halloween, and DH3 COMING SOON as well.
Support Your Horror! Subscribe to Apex
Current mood: animated
Category: Writing and Poetry
SUPPORT THE HORROR GENRE!!!!!!!
Do you like Horror? Do you like Science Fiction? That's perfect because the people over at Apex Publications love them too! Want to know what else is great? They have some amazing promotions going on right now. Signed pre-order copies of books, an amazing buy a book/ get an issue of the magazine free deal. But what you should really do is get your subscription to their amazing digest sized magazine. It's great for a fix when you need some commuter reading. Are you a big fan of Fantasy and Science Fiction Magazine, yet you find yourself wanting for more of the blood and guts disturbing content? Apex Digest has it.
If you're not sure if you're willing to fork out the $20 US for the four issues a year, you can pick up a copy at one of over 600 stores, including your Barnes&Noble or Chapters/Indigo Books.
Here's the real deal; you probably have your favorite writers of short fiction, right? Well you believe they deserve to get paid a professional rate of 5 cents a word and the wonderful people at Apex want to see that happen, but it can't happen without you. They currently have 455 subscribers and the pay rate is 2.5 cents a word, which is amazing but they need to be at 1,000 subscribers to attain that professional pay rate. If you don't think it's something you can do, that's fine. What you can do though, is spread the word, cut and paste this piece into your own blogs and bulletins. You might have a friend who would be interested.
I've included below a complete list of available products from Apex Publications and at the bottom you'll find links to their store and their website where you can sample some of their online content.
Apex Digest
- US $20.00USD, Canada&Mexico $24.00USD, Internationally $34.00USD
This is the much anticipated follow up to the Stoker nominated featured writer anthology Aegri Somnia. Gratia Placenti translated means "for the sake of pleasing." Thirteen of the most sinister, darkest writers in the horror business were tasked with conveying their take on the theme of gratia placenti.
150 copies with signature plate available. Signed by Lavie Tidhar, Laura Anne Gilman, and Melissa Gay
Popular short fiction writer Lavie Tidhar gathers some of his best work in one collection. Stories that are infused with centuries of tradition and painted with Hebrew mythology. We meet Tzaddik as he faces off against a vengeful angel intent on sending the Fallen to hell. The shapeshifting Rat fights lycanthropic Nazis. The Rabbi takes us on a thoughtful and amusing journey into the possibilities of a Jewish state in the heart of Africa. Finally, all three protagonists appear in an old-fashioned caper story that will leave you breathless.
A man awakens in a filthy bedroom with no recollection of who he is or how he got there. Seeing an old Gideon bible on a nightstand, he finds a name to call his own – Temple. This is the story of Temple's quest for identity and purpose in a dying, decaying world.
By turns heartbreaking, enlightening, and surreal, British fantasist Steven Savile has created a story that T.M. Wright describes as "a story about Death written by a man who has clearly consorted with devils."
Aegri Somnia translated literally means "a sick man's dreams." Loosely, it can mean "troubled dreams." The first twelve Apex Featured Writers were tasked with writing the darkest, scariest short fiction their twisted minds could create using the theme of "aegri somnia."
All copies include a signature plate signed by all contributors and the cover artist.
Brandy Schwan's debut poetry collection titled Grim Trixter is now available for order from Apex Publications. Schwan's unique writing style, mixed with dark and evocative imagery, has helped gain her many fans, including such noted horror authors such as Kealan Patrick Burke, Weston Ochse, Michael Laimo, and Brian Knight. She first caught the eye of publisher Jason Sizemore via her popular MySpace page
Dark SF collection from Jennifer Pelland Trade Paperback: $12.95 (pre-order price) Hardcover: $27.00 (pre-order price) All pre-ordered hardcovers signed by author ISBN TBPB 252pp: 978-0-9788676-8-3 ISBN HC 252pp: 978-0-9788676-7-6 Release Date: February 29th, 2008
So that's a lot of stuff to choose from and it's all worth it folks. Subscribe or order a book and take advantage of the limited time deal of getting a free issue of the mag with your purchase. Then pass this puppy around to your friends and encourage them to lend a helping hand as well.
If you're not sure and you want to sample a freebie to see what they are all about. Follow this link below.
Preditors & Editors Readers Poll Nom
Current mood: ecstatic
Category: Writing and Poetry
13Human Souls: Horror E-zine has been nominated by someone for the Preditors & Editor's Readers poll! I'm pretty excited about this and I would like to know who nominated it, (as I would like to thank them for thinking of 13HS when presented with so many wonderful publications to vote for). If you would like to cast your vote for 13Human Souls click on the link below.
There are also some friends of mine that could use your votes, cast a vote in their direction before you leave.
Louise Bohmer: Best Anthology - The Unknown Guardian/Raw Meat Best Author Best Book Editor Best Publisher - Editor-in-Chief/Lachesis Publishing and LBF Books
Jeremy Seffens: Best Book Editor Best Magazine Editor - The Bloodied Quill Best Magazine - Editor/The Bloodied Quill Best Horror Novel - David Greske/Anathema Best Publisher - Junior Editor/Lachesis Publishing and LBF Books
Jodi Lee: Best Anthology - Clipped/Fried! Fast Foods, Slow Deaths and Copy Editor/Gratia Placenti Best Author Best Book Editor Best Short Horror - Thirsty/Night to Dawn Best Fiction Magazine - Submissions-CopyEditor/Apex Science Fiction and Horror Digest Best Publisher - Junior Editor/Lachesis Publishing and LBF Books
Naturally, we would like to see our families, friends and clients support us with their votes, so please feel free to pop on over there and make your mark!
Also, many of our friends have been nominated as well (and we're probably missing a lot of you!):
Kevin James Hurtack has been nominated in the Best Artist, Best Artwork categories.
Bret Jordan has been nominated in the Best Artist, Best Book Cover Art categories.
Jason Sizemore and Apex Digest have been nominated in the Best Editor, Best Anthology (Gratia Placenti), Best Sci-Fi Novel (Steven Savile/Temple), Best Artwork (Melissa Gay/HebrewPunk), Best Fiction Magazine and Best Magazine Cover categories.
Brandy Schwan has been nominated in the Best Poet category.
Lachesis Publishing, LBF Books, Graveside Tales all nominated for Best Publisher.
MR Sellars/The End of Desire has been nominated in the Best Horror Novel category.
David Wong/John Dies at the End has been nominated in the Best Novel category.
The Malignant Double (Sci-Fi Short Story)
Current mood: blah
Category: Writing and Poetry
THE MALIGNANT DOUBLE
By
Brandon Layng
There was a knock at my door, to which I went and answered. As I had come around the corner from my neat squared off little sitting room to the closet-like space of my hallway, it was a shock to me to discover the sight of the cars hovering along the street, children playing on the sidewalks with mechanical pets and standing in my doorway was my neighbor, the reclusive Mr. Tryx. It was a shock since there was no door, the one that had been in place only moments before when I had plucked my morning paper from the stoop had vanished, in its place stood the meager figure of the rarely seen scientist.
Mr. Tryx rocked back on his heels upon seeing me come up on him so suddenly, seeming himself surprised to find no barricade between our eyes so shortly after his knock. He looked a wretched sight with a coffee stained dress shirt only partially tucked into his greasy pants. My heart was pounding. I could see there was a mad excitement in his eyes, he was moving towards me as a zealot incensed.
I felt for some reason that he must not touch me and was not entirely sure why. I was convinced that this man, whom I only saw as he walked to buy groceries at the farmers market, was in some way dangerous. With a few steps accompanied by a frenzy of mutterings about a life's work completed and strange worlds discovered he had me returned to the sitting room and stumbling into my recliner. He clearly saw I was disturbed by his behavior, made a big fuss of straightening his wild hair and took a seat of his own on the sofa.
"Mr. Kassen, good neighbor," he said to me with a voice fighting to stay on a level plain. "I have seen amazing things, cars that seem to float upon the air, children playing with dogs and cats made of metal. Never in my life would I have thought we would ever achieve such things."
I was most positive the man had become delusional. Hover cars had been all the rage for twenty years and the MechPets were commonplace since diseases had required the control of their biological counterparts. Mr. Tryx should have known these things and he went on further to tell me that it was all a result of his life's work. The machine. He was in too much of a state of wonder and pride to explain the function of this machine, which I found a great disappoint, since I fancy myself somewhat of an inventor and when I tried to press him on it, he would simply turn to some new -- though not really so new-- discovery he had found while walking over to my house. I was quickly growing less frightened by the man and more tired of his fluctuating speech.
I stood from my chair, which in turn prompted my unwelcome guest to do so as well. I attempted to guide him to the door with nods of agreement to convince him that I simply wanted to carry on our talk outside to see what great work his machine had done to the world. Then a disturbing thing had happened…
My eye caught the brighter patch of floor almost in passing and it shocked me so fundamentally that I was stopped in my tracks while Mr. Tryx continued in his ramblings on his way to the doorway without a door. I had begun to believe that whatever madness he carried must have carried to me as well, but to the opposite affect, since he saw things that had always been there and I was not seeing something that should have been there. In the seconds that it had taken to make our way to the front hall, the sofa, upon which he had been sitting, had disappeared.
The missing door and missing sofa compounded each other in my mind, giving me chills that danced up and down my spine. I assumed immediately that there was some great wrongness about the man, a thing so affecting that all things in his power to touch were vanishing.
It had come as quite a shock when Mr. Tryx reached out to me in an attempt to emphasize the importance of the coffee cans. I attempted to pull away, jerking backwards, succeeding in only tangling my own two feet and reaching out for what was nearest that I could catch myself with. Seeing my flailing arms and being closest to me, Mr. Tryx, being ever so kind, grabbed hold of my hand.
I must be honest, I am normally a man of substantial composure under duress, however, never had I been faced with being vanished.
My neighbor kept hold of my hand as I, in a panicked state, tried to get my feet back under my trembling body. He continued to do so as I took large mouthfuls of air into my lungs, realizing I was still in my hallway and not vanished. Mentally I chided myself for such foolish thinking and for letting myself get so flustered by something that was clearly impossible. It was not a second later that, convinced I was not going to have an embolisim, Mr. Tryx let go of my hand and I found myself on a neglected lawn accompanied by my front door and the sofa from my livingroom.
Needless to say my new surroundings only elevated the state of shock I had been afflicted with since Mr. Tryx's arrival.
I am in quite a more calmed state now, living in the house attached to the lawn on which I had suddenly found myself six months ago. Mr. Tryx has not faired so well. Not the one who sent me here with his touch, rather, the one who created the machine in our time. He has become considerably irritable since switching places with his double --who was more crackpot than inventor—and discovering the version on this line had been working on a machine as well… comprised of string, paper clips, a plastic globe of the world and coffee cans.
I don't leave the house much, but on one excursion I have come to learn that my own double had until two years ago lived with his house in the vacant lot next door, perhaps if had not grown so tired of the madness of his neighbor he would not have uprooted his home and I would have switched places with him like the two Mr. Tryx.
There is one more curious thing about this place. Time runs backwards. I thought at first it was simply the clocks were screwy, yet since this finding I have noticed the gray hairs are growing back to black and the lines at the sides of my eyes are softening.
I have always wondered what it would be like to be a child again, I suppose, only time will tell.
This is a little short Sci-Fi story I came up with a while a go as just a way to exercise my brain for some other stories of this ilk. It's not polished and I'm sure the science is flawed but I had a fun time doing it. It's been a long while since I posted a story, things have been very busy for me lately, but I hope to have the opportunity to post a few more on here in the near future. Let me know what you guys and gals think.
Take care,
Brandon
Currently
reading
:
Toybox
By
Al Sarrantonio
Release date: February, 2000
I did it! NaNoWriMo 2007
Current mood: creative
Category: Writing and Poetry
It was a rough month and I didn't think it was going to happen but with a final effort of over 8K in two days and five coffees (I don't drink coffee normally) I made the 50K club and I have half of a novel now. I'll finish the last half of "Sin In Skin" in December and after some serious editing I'll be looking for some first readers. Anyone interested about a cursed hooker/stripper, a widowed trucker, an ambitious police constable and a really twisted carpenter?
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So here's my official NaNoWriMo Winner Icon!
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I'll be back again on Monday so I'll talk to everyone then. Have a good weekend!
Brandon
Currently
reading
:
Headstone City
By
Tom Piccirilli
Release date: 28 February, 2006
blessed
excited
bitchy
animated
amused
breezy
disgusted
drained
ecstatic
blah
creative
