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

Monday, October 27, 2014

Cover Reveal: Distorted

Fantasy Anthology
Date Published: November 7, 2014

   
Tantalizingly bloody tales featuring human pitted against beast and gods, with the true majesty and horrors of the afterlife, with love and death and desire...



Eight writers modernize ancient mythologies in DISTORTED, proving that not every story has been told.




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EXCERPTS

From “To Sing Which Tune” by Heidi C Vlach

Thinking that way made the truth weigh heavier: Helen might have picked up soda bottles on the beach last week, and worked on biochemical equations last night until her head screamed for mercy. She had stroked her own ego for attending her university's Sound The Sirens fundraiser gala, one where she wore an actual dress and some mascara. But she wasn't doing enough.

She couldn't think of Odyssia's face without a grey burden of guilt. The face that had beamed all throughout her childhood, crinkled with merriment around her eyes and poured joyous, warbling songs from her lips. Taught Helen songs she hummed offhandedly, even now. But these past few months, Odyssia barely smiled. She stared longer at Helen; like two stars with a void between them.

Sirens attack yacht, 2 dead.

Putting down the newspaper, Helen rose from the kitchen table to go get dressed and do something recklessly expensive. This was a bigger issue than one homicide case. Bigger than the one siren Helen owed a debt of love to. Bigger than her personal credit rating could make a dent in, but she had to try.




From “Bullman” by Anthony S. Buoni

"I'm still not sure it’s a good idea," Cassandra said, adjusting the top of her black corset.  Dressed like a cyber goth club kid, multicolored glow sticks dangled from the zippers and belt on her baggy black pants matched her glowing bracelets, necklaces, and earrings.  She scratched her short, spiky black hair with hot pink tips from her eyes before crossing her arms.

Theo wasn’t sure why Icky wanted Europe so bad—Cassandra's green gaze and hourglass figure made her the prettier of the two.  Other than a hint of social awkwardness and her taste for illegal intoxicants, Cassandra was a catch.

"Chicken," Icky said, clucking.

"Well, what is it?" Ariadne asked.  "Going to sit around with your fingers in a bowl of peeled grapes and tell each other stories about vanishing hitchhikers and perverts with hooks for hands attacking Lovers' Lane?"

"No," Icky said.  "Something way better.  We're driving to Hamilton Heights and looking for the Bullman."

Ariadne puffed.

"The Bullman?" Theo asked conscious of his date's aggravation.  The tale stemmed from a dark page in her family's history, so he tried downplaying it.  "There's no such thing."

Everyone knew the town's most famous urban legend.

Before Ariadne was born, her parents' first child came into the world stillborn.  Refusing any public response or funeral, the prominent family ignored the tragedy, and, as will often happen when scandal rubs elbows with the rich, their terse reaction prompted immediate gossip.

Stories claiming that the child survived began circulating the community.  The myth grew, taking on an insidious nature.

The most common account had Ariadne's mom falling in love and fornicating with their prize winning snow-white bull, resulting in the birth of a ferocious monster.  Fearing disgrace, Judge Hamilton ordered the creature destroyed.  Their doctor, taken by the genetic anomaly and unable to terminate the atrocity, gave the creature to hobos living in scattered shacks dotting the dense woods outside of town so he could study it in secret.

According to rumors, the creature matured and now lurked the forest near Cretan Road and Hamilton Heights, a sprawling park on the lake bordering the state's thick wilderness.  Campers and hikers would return from the forest with stories of a hairy, malformed creature stealing food and gear from their campsites before scurrying off into the brush.  Once in a while, someone would vanish in the woods, and parents told their kids that the Bullman roamed the neighborhood streets after sunset, stealing and devouring misbehaving children.

No one ever managed to photograph the thing.

No footprints emerged in the rich, dark soil or red clay hills surrounding Hamilton Heights.

Despite a lack of hard evidence, the stories lingered on the public tongue, whispers spoken around crackling campfires and in tight alleyways.

The Hamilton family did not appreciate the yarn and ignored the accounts, debunking them whenever the newspaper reported sightings or ran spotlights for their Halloween editions.

Of all the embarrassing things that could go wrong on a first date with Ariadne Hamilton, Theo couldn’t think of anything worse than Icky seeking out her fabled brother.


About the Author:
@AlishaCostanzo

Alisha Costanzo is from a Syracuse suburb. She earned her MFA in creative writing from the University of Central Oklahoma, where she currently teaches English. She’s the author of BLOOD PHOENIX: REBIRTH and BLOOD PHOENIX: CLAIMED, and co-editor of DISTORTED. LOVING RED, a Broken World novel, is undergoing serious edits for its 2015 release. In the meantime, she will continue to corrupt young minds, rant about the government, and daydream about her all around nasty creatures.


About the Author:

Having relocated from Northwest Florida's lonesome roads and haunted swamps, Anthony S. Buoni now prowls the gas lamp lit streets of New Orleans, playing moonlight hide and seek in the Crescent City's above ground cemeteries. Anthony is the author of Conversation Party, Bad Apple Bolero, as well as the editor to the Between There anthologies.  His stories and articles have been featured in North Florida Noir and Waterfront Living. When not prowling, Anthony keeps it scary, writing dark fiction, editing, and watching horror movies.  In his spare time, he DJs, plays music, and conjures other worldly creatures with tarot cards and dreams.




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Monday, June 23, 2014

The Vampire Hunter's Review

The Vampire Hunters by Scott Baker (ARC Review)
The Vampire Hunters Book 1
Re-Published February 3, 2014
5 BLOODY FANGS!

"Monstrous, sadistic, deadly, evil, soulless... in short, true vampires!"

Synopsis -

As former Boston cops, Drake Matthews and Alison Monroe thought they had experienced it all... until they found themselves tracking down a serial killer who turned out to be one of the undead. Stopping him cost them their careers and almost their lives. 

Thanks to an influential and anonymous benefactor, Drake and Alison find a new job ridding the streets of Washington D.C. of the vampiric threat terrorizing the nation's capital. 

Only this time, Drake and Alison are not facing a single vampire but an entire nest led by Ion Zielenska, one of history's most evil and twisted masters. As the vampires indiscriminately prey on humans, seeing them as nothing more than food to satiate their hunger, they create a wave of violence that threatens to engulf the city. 

Orchestrating the carnage is Antoinette Varela, the mistress of the nest, whose vendetta against the hunters is personal.  (Goodreads)

Review -

"To Tiffany, Something to sink your fangs into. - Scott Baker"

What better way to start a read than with words that turned out to be true indeed.  Look for romaticizing of these vampires,  Baker shows them at their gruesome,  deadly best. While I do love PNR, I also need a good dose of vampires in the purest, rawest form. The Vampire Hunters truly fit the bill.  Readers will be taken into a dark world where the only standing between humanity and the undead are three unlikely heroes, and their mysterious, powerful, extremely influential benefactors'.

When seemingly a serial killer stalks the streets of Boston,  only one detective, Drake Matthews, realizes what they're up against is something far worst, a vampire.  Though he accepts the truth one family too late.  While Matthews finally excepts the impossible, and in the process probably saving more than a few more lives, his superiors nor his colleagues were ready to acknowledge such, costing him his badge.  None, that is, other than his partner, Allison Monroe.  Who follows Drake to rid the streets of Washington D.C. as they are overran by a particular nasty, sadistic vampire nest.  A nest led by two Masters' who take depravity to brand new levels.  So when "Mr. Smith" drops off a new recruit on Drake's doorstep it is none too soon.  Seeing as how Jim specializes in creating new and even more powerful weapons to use in the war against the undead.

A Fangtastic read for traditional vampires everywhere, regardless of gender.  Action packed with fight scenes so vividly detailed readers will feel as though they are right there taking part in the action.  Filled with blood, gore, thrills and chills to make every horror lover smile.  

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Blue Plate Special: Promo Blitz





Blue Plate Special - PROMO Blitz
By Harold Kempka
Horror
Date Published: June 4, 2013

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Hal takes you right to the action in the Blue Plate Special anthology. This compilation of horror flash fiction dips, loops, and twists to churn your gut and draw out your primal fear without lengthy descriptions and back story.

In the anthology’s namesake, “Blue Plate Special,” Billy stops at a roadside café on a lonely, foggy highway. The blue plate special on the menu sounds good and even comes with desert. Yum-yum.

An old woman matches wits with a burglar; while hitchhikers thumb rides and Good Samaritans pick them up. An office worker boards the last train home. Lonely singles, zombies, vampires, and dark sinister creatures bumping in the night further grace the pages, as do unruly children, psychos and the people who love them.

Blue Plate Special contains something for nearly every twisted mind, and in the span of a lunch hour you can read a tale or two. While you head back to work energized, you may even ponder an idea or two about retaliating against your heavy-handed boss.


EXCERPT

Billy leaned against the steering wheel, his fatigued eyes trying to follow the white line separating the gravel shoulder from the deserted highway. The soupy fog, however, swallowed up his headlights a few feet past the bumper. Hunger ate at his stomach as he turned the radio dial scanning channels.

“Come on!” he grumbled, hearing only static.

He glanced back at the road. The hazy aura of flashing red lights lit up the darkness ahead. Billy slowed to a near crawl upon reaching the accident scene.

A state police officer stood beside a red flare, flashlight in hand ready to direct traffic. Emergency crews worked at a feverish pace, extricating victims from the smoldering, crumpled vehicles. A paramedic performed CPR on a bloodied, mangled victim thrown onto the road shoulder.

Visualizing the horror of the victim’s incineration, Billy shuddered and hoped they died first. As he drove past, the traffic officer’s deep set eyes bored through him with an indifferent gaze.

The last he heard was a paramedic shouting, “Come on, buddy, breathe!”

A few miles past the carnage, the fog thinned and he accelerated. Up ahead, Billy spotted a neon arrow on a sign pole that impaled a mangled Peterbilt. A placard on the truck’s grill read, Junkyard Café.

Anxious for a hot meal and a brief respite, Billy pulled in. A field littered with rusting, wrecked cars sat in the lot behind the cafe, no doubt the reason for its namesake. He parked alongside a gray Chevy Van in the otherwise empty lot, and walked toward the cafe entrance.

The aroma of hot coffee and greasy hamburgers swirled through the air as he stepped inside. The only other customer was a family hunched over a table tucked against the far wall.

They avoided eye contact as Billy slid into a booth and grabbed the menu off the table. A plump, tired-looking waitress stepped from the kitchen. After wiping her hands on a grease-stained apron, she waddled to his booth.

“It must be my lucky night,” she said. “Crappiest fog in years and I got customers. I’m Lorraine by the way, and not ‘hey you’ or ‘waitress’.”

“Yeah, well…uh, Lorraine I’m lost and hungry. I hope you can help me out on both counts.”

“Uh-huh,” she said poising her pencil over the order pad. “So, do you know what you want or do you need a minute?”

Billy glanced at the special on the menu jacket.

“I’ll have the hot beef sandwich and coffee.”

“Good choice.”

Lorraine turned toward the kitchen and hollered, “One Blue Plate Special!”

Billy heard muffled laughter in the kitchen. She returned a minute later with his coffee, but disappeared back into the kitchen. He stared through a window toward the junked cars. The bluish flashes of fireflies dotted the darkness.

An older, raggedly dressed couple stepped through the doors and Lorraine hollered, “Hi there! I haven’t seen you two in ages.”

They sat in a booth near Billy. “It’s always good to swing by and see you, Lorraine.”

As other customers straggled in, Louise greeted them in a similar fashion. She stayed busy chatting and filling coffee cups.

Finally, Lorraine returned with his meal. The tantalizing aroma fueled Billy’s hunger. He shoved a forkful of roast beef mixed into his mouth. His stomach welcomed the pleasant warmth.

After a few bites, however, the taste turned rancid. He glanced at his plate, where pile of maggots wriggled among slices of nearly raw flesh. Billy gagged and gulped at his coffee, but spit out the mouthful of warm, coagulating blood.

Billy gasped for air and broke into a sweat. He glanced at the family. Gaping wounds covered their charred and twisted bodies and a pool of dark crimson oozed from beneath their table.

A fetid odor filled the air. He slid from the booth and staggered toward the door. Lorraine and the others watched him through milky eyes set deep in their sockets.

Harold Kempka

 photo Hal_zps017d46c4.jpgHarold “Hal” Kempka is a former Marine combat veteran and resides in the Inland Empire of Southern California. His post military career revolved around sales and sales management in the graphic art industry, including fine printing paper and packaging. After courses in the creative writing program at UC Riverside he began writing short stories, eventually gravitating toward horror fiction. He has had over one hundred flash and short fiction stories published in magazines, ezines, and anthologies in the U.S. as well as the UK. Hal’s email is: rvnvet6667@yahoo.com

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